A far cry from the dilapidated two-bedroom house she’d grown up in. Just picturing the broken yellow shutters, overgrown yard and sagging roof made her want to cringe. She wasn’t a materialistic person; if anything, growing up poor had made her all the more grateful for the lifestyle she had now. No, the memory of her childhood home didn’t make her cringe because of its appearance. It was the woman who’d lived there with her, the people who’d turned their noses up at her, the kids who’d thrown eggs at the front door while speeding past on their bikes—that’s what caused the cringing.
“You’re rich and famous now, Charlotte.” Georgia’s voice pulled her back to reality. “No one’s going to be a jerk to you if you go. If anything, they’ll apologize and bow at your feet.”
Yeah right. No matter how successful she was now, no matter how many albums she put out or how many sold-out concerts she performed at, the people of Paradise would always view her as the hand-me-down-wearing, born-out-of-wedlock daughter of the town whore.
She didn’t say that aloud, though, merely shrugged instead. “I have no desire to see any of those people. I don’t want or need any of their apologies.” She moved back to the couch and flopped down, suddenly feeling on edge.
“Not even Nate?”
The breath promptly drained from Charlotte’s lungs. “I already told you, I don’t want to talk about him anymore.”
Georgia’s brown eyes softened. “I know, but I still think you should. Jeez, Charlotte, the guy is ruining your love life.”
A sigh rolled out of her chest. Yep, that about summed it up. Nate Bishop, the guy she hadn’t seen in fifteen years, had interfered with every relationship she’d ever had since him. Charlotte wished she hadn’t confessed it to Georgia, but after the painful breakup with Russ, she’d needed someone to talk to. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t forget about Nate. Her first love. Her first lover. His callous parting words had succeeded in making it impossible for her to sleep with another man. When she did, those old feelings of inadequacy reared up like an angry dragon, effectively breathing fire on any chance of ever achieving an actual orgasm.
And when she was able to let go of the insecurity and let herself feel desire for a man, like she’d done with Russ, she ended up calling out Nate’s name during her climax.
How fucking healthy was that?
“Have you slept with anyone since Russ?” Georgia asked.
It was an odd question to get from an assistant, but Georgia had become much more than that during the years she’d worked for Charlotte. The music business made it difficult to find anything close to a true friend, one who didn’t want to use her to get ahead, and Charlotte’s friendships had always been surface-level acquaintances until she hired Georgia.
“No,” she confessed, reaching for the wineglass she’d been neglecting for the last hour. Now she chugged it down in one gulp then proceeded to pour herself another glass.
“I think you should.”
“I’ll pass.” Regret squeezed her throat. “God, you should have seen Russ’s face when I said Nate’s name. He was humiliated. What if it happens again with someone else?”
“Fine, then don’t sleep with anyone else. Sleep with the guy whose named you called out.”
She sucked in a shocked gasp. “I’m not sleeping with Nate.”
“Why not?” Georgia reached for the invitation on the glass coffee table. “You’ve got the opportunity right here.”
“I’m not going back there. And I’m not having sex with Nate Bishop, not after what he did to me.”
She promptly ended the conversation by downing some more wine. After a moment, Georgia let it go, changing the subject to Charlotte’s upcoming tour. Though she wasn’t much of a drinker, the talk of the past had brought back unpleasant memories, and Charlotte found herself pouring another glass. An hour later, she and Georgia had cranked open a second bottle, and Charlotte felt relaxed and giddy. So much so that when the topic of Nate came up again, she didn’t attempt to stop it.
“I hate him,” she admitted, her cheeks heated from the wine. “But sometimes…sometimes the hate dissolves a little bit and I remember how much I loved him.”
“You need to get him out of your system,” Georgia said in a frank voice.
“I know.” She sighed. “But I can’t seem to do it. Every time I’m close to having a normal relationship, I think about what he said the night we broke up.”
Her entire body tensed as Nate’s parting speech slipped into her head like an unwanted intruder.
The sex sucked. Seriously, Charlotte, I thought you’d be better than that.
I’m bored with this. We had our fun, okay? But I don’t want you anymore.
You’re really not that desirable, but I figured you’d be easy.
As far as breakups went, that one had been an absolute killer. The most demoralizing and degrading experience of her life. She never thought Nate Bishop could be that cruel. Never thought that what she’d believed they both felt could have been so one-sided. She’d loved Nate with all her heart. The first—and only—time they’d made love, her heart had soared and her body was overcome with uncontrollable passion. To think that he hadn’t felt any of that brought waves of humiliation to her belly.
God, she’d been willing to pass up a scholarship to Julliard, to stay in a town she hated, just so she could be with Nate.