Cold Husband Burning Regret: The Divorce He Couldn't Handle novel Chapter 69

"And who's this?"

Jonathan's gaze shifted to the young man sitting across from Charlotte. Charlotte smiled. "My brother, Hiram."

"Ah, Mr. Sterling." Jonathan reached out to shake his hand. "I'm Pembroke—Jonathan Pembroke. I'm a friend of your sister's."

Hiram shook his hand, looking awkward, a little uncomfortable at being treated so formally for the first time.

"Jonathan Pembroke? Are you eating here too?"

"Yeah, I'm here with a few friends," Jonathan replied, glancing over his shoulder and waving to a group upstairs.

Up on the second level sat the usual crowd from his social circle—the sons and daughters of wealthy families, without a doubt.

"Weren't you supposed to treat me to dinner? You still owe me a meal, remember?"

The thought suddenly struck Charlotte, and she laughed. "You're right. If you hadn't mentioned it, I probably would've forgotten. So, when are you free?"

Jonathan shrugged. "I'm free whenever you are."

Charlotte nodded. "How about this weekend? I'm off work."

He smiled faintly. "Sounds good."

After Jonathan left, Hiram watched him go, biting down on his fork. "Sis, do you think that guy's got a thing for you?"

Charlotte choked and coughed. "What are you talking about?"

She'd known Jonathan since college. If he'd ever been interested in her, he would've made a move long ago. Why wait until now?

"It's just a feeling," Hiram muttered, pulling a face. "What can I say? My sister's gorgeous—guys are always trying to get close to you. People used to say we didn't even look like siblings. Why couldn't I have inherited at least half your looks?"

Charlotte paused mid-bite and looked up at her brother.

Hiram was probably just joking, but looking at him closely, she realized he actually took after their mother. When their mom was young, she'd been strikingly good-looking, and Hiram's features were sharp and handsome—he cut a fine figure.

She, on the other hand, didn't look much like their mother. Or their father, for that matter…

Could it be…

A sudden thought flashed through Charlotte's mind, but she quickly dismissed it.

She'd been part of the Sterling family for as long as she could remember. Something that far-fetched couldn't possibly happen to her.

Evander didn't answer.

Charlotte drew a steady breath. "Seven o'clock."

With that, she headed to her bedroom.

Evander spent the night in the guest room, and Charlotte slept soundly for the first time in ages. Early the next morning, Lana arrived to make breakfast. For once, Charlotte and Evander actually managed to sit down and finish a meal together.

It felt strangely unfamiliar—she couldn't remember the last time she'd patiently shared breakfast with him.

No sharp words, no veiled sarcasm.

Just a rare, quiet moment.

Evander dabbed the corner of his mouth with a napkin. "You go ahead tonight. No need to wait for me."

He set the napkin down, grabbed his coat, and left.

Charlotte watched him go, lost in thought.