Chapter 149 He's Not Used to Charlotte Being Gone
Frederick couldn't stand it.
But he wasn't young anymore; he couldn't act rashly just because Charlotte was dating Nicholas.
He couldn't just break them up or impulsively confess his love and propose to her.
He was the one who had told Charlotte he couldn't give her what she wanted.
He thought breaking up was normal. When he saw her a few days ago, he felt desire but didn't think he couldn't live without her.
But realizing she might be with someone else hit him hard.
Frederick was going through a change he couldn't understand.
If it was just about her looks, there were others more beautiful than Charlotte.
As for companionship, he never lacked it. With his background and looks, many people wanted to be around him. Only Charlotte would leave if she didn't get a commitment.
Fireworks lit up the sky.
Frederick looked up, feeling incredibly bitter.
When he looked down again, the pair was gone.
Where did they go?
With such a romantic night, did they head to a hotel?
Frederick's heart ached, making it hard to breathe.
Charlotte finished viewing the art exhibit, and Nicholas politely escorted her home.
He noticed she wasn't that engaged. She liked him, but it was mostly because of his looks and status.
In other words, Charlotte wasn't moved.
Nicholas wasn't discouraged. He gracefully arranged another date.
As the night deepened, Charlotte said goodbye to Nicholas outside her apartment.
The streetlight stretched their shadows. Nicholas, probably liking her too much, talked a lot. Finally, he laughed, "You better go up! Otherwise, I'll talk until dawn."
Charlotte nodded and handed back his scarf.
Nicholas didn't take it. His refined face showed depth. "Charlotte, I hope you'll invite me up one day."
They were both adults, and it was clear what he meant.
Charlotte wasn't a young girl anymore.
She didn't say yes or no.
She smiled slightly. "Let's take our time."
Nicholas walked backward, waving. "Miss Russell, good night."
He got into his car.
Charlotte waved back.
She thought the date was pleasant. Someone like Nicholas seemed more suitable for her.
Charlotte was in a good mood.
She took a bath, wrapped herself in a towel, and got a message from Nicholas.
He sent a picture, probably of his villa, with fireworks and cheer.
Charlotte smiled lightly.
Just as she was about to reply, her phone rang.
It was Frederick.
Charlotte hesitated but answered. There was a long silence on the other end.
Finally, Charlotte spoke. "Mr. Hawkins?"
Frederick's voice was slightly hoarse. "Charlotte, how have you been?"
It was unusual for Frederick to ask such a question, but out of respect for him helping her father, she replied calmly, "I've been good."
Frederick asked again, "Where did you spend Thanksgiving Day? Did you have fun?"
Charlotte wasn't a fool.
Frederick asking this meant he knew something.
She was silent for a moment, then whispered, "I had a good time! It was fun."
"Did you get a boyfriend?"
He was practically interrogating her. After some thought, Charlotte said, "Yes."
Frederick kept pushing. "What's he like? Is he good-looking? What does he do?"
Charlotte couldn't hold back anymore.
She lowered her voice. "Frederick, we're over!"
"So?"
"So you don't need to worry about my life anymore! If you must know, he's a good guy and good-looking."
She regretted saying that immediately.
Why did she even tell Frederick?
On the other end, Frederick was silent for a bit before softly asking, "Is Nicholas better looking than me?"
Then he hung up.
Charlotte blinked, stunned.
Frederick knew who her date was and was just pretending not to.
Her mood was ruined, and she lost interest in chatting with Nicholas.
Meanwhile, Frederick felt even worse.
He stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse, overlooking the best night view of the city.
Fresh out of the bath, his hair still wet, he wore a black bathrobe with his chest slightly exposed.
He leaned against the bar, staring at the night view, lost in thought.
After ending things with Charlotte, he wanted to forget her, but his apartment was filled with reminders of her.
In the walk-in closet, her bathrobe hung next to his.
The two pairs of couple slippers she bought were still unpacked.
Every day when he opened the accessory cabinet, he saw the jewelry he had bought for her, lying in velvet boxes.
She hadn't taken any of it.
All these things reminded him that a woman had once been a part of his life, maybe even of his heart.
Recently, Frederick started having insomnia.
Even though he was exhausted from work, he couldn't fall asleep.
Sometimes, in the early morning, he would turn over, thinking Charlotte was still there, wanting to give her a good morning kiss or just make love.
But there was nothing, just a pillow.
In the large bed, he couldn't touch anything.
Frederick finished his wine, ending this lonely Thanksgiving Day, and went to the bedroom, which felt cold and empty.
He lay down for a while but got up to go to the bathroom.
Moments later, the sound of water splashing.
Amidst the water sounds, there were occasional restrained breaths coming as he touched himself.
After finishing, Frederick returned to bed with the steam still on him.
He turned off the lights but felt even more empty.
In the dead of night, his body was more honest than his mind.
He missed Charlotte and her body. It had been almost a month since he last had sex.
In the early morning, Jessica returned to work, cleaning the house and making breakfast.
Frederick came out of the bedroom.
Jessica didn't know Charlotte had moved out and naturally asked, "Is Miss Russell awake yet?"
Frederick adjusted his tie.
He sat at the dining table, took a sip of coffee, and said calmly, "We broke up. She moved out."
Jessica realized she had said the wrong thing and apologized repeatedly.
Frederick opened the morning paper. "Just be more careful in the future."
He paused, looking at Jessica. "Today, clean up the bedroom and organize the walk-in closet. Pack Miss Russell's clothes in a bag, and have Cherie handle the jewelry."
Jessica realized they had completely broken up. She felt quite sad.
'Previously, Mr. Hawkins had seemed to treat Miss Russell very well, couldn't get enough of her, and even did that thing early in the morning. How could things change so quickly?'
Jessica hesitated and asked, "What should I do with the packed clothes? Just throw them away?"
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