AN: Here you go, 3 chs for this week. A quick note: I'll take a break. Gotta stockpile lol. Been a bit busy this month with work, so didn't get enough time to write. Now that I'm free, it's time to stockpile. So, when I return, you'll get daily update.
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[Restaurant – 12:32 PM]
They ended up at a quiet little restaurant tucked between a bookstore and a boutique shoe shop.
Charlie held the door for Kate, who gave a polite smile to the hostess. They were seated near a window with a view of the street. The music playing overhead was something classical but unfamiliar, probably Debussy or a lesser-known Mozart piece.
A waiter came by and poured water. Kate ordered a salad niçoise and a glass of Chablis. Charlie went for the steak frites and black coffee, still riding the tail end of adrenaline from the podcast.
For a few minutes, they made small talk about the weather, New York traffic, and how the city always felt like it was in the middle of an unplanned dress rehearsal. But once the food arrived, their conversation shifted.
Kate set her wine glass down and looked across the table at him.
"I meant what I said earlier. The album's really good. It's honest in a way that most people never get to. Especially on their first real try."
Charlie wiped his hands with a napkin and nodded. "Thanks. That means a lot coming from someone like you."
She raised an eyebrow. "Someone like me?"
"You've been famous longer than I've been paying bills. You've done the big movies, the press tours, the tabloids. You know what all this can turn into."
Kate's expression softened. She leaned slightly forward.
"I do. And it's not always as fun as it looks from the outside. The pressure's strange. It comes from everyone and nowhere at the same time. You can feel it in the questions people ask. In how they watch you walk into a room. Some days it's fine. Other days, it's like carrying glass in your pockets and pretending it isn't cutting you."
Charlie took a sip of his coffee, eyes on hers.
"Sounds exhausting."
"It can be," she said. "But then you get a good script. Or a role that actually says something. Or a letter from a fan who tells you they felt seen for the first time. And it makes up for it."
Charlie nodded slowly. "Yeah. That sounds familiar. This whole thing... I still don't feel like I belong in it. Like I keep waiting for someone to walk up and say, 'Sorry, we mixed you up with someone talented.'"
Kate laughed gently. "That never goes away. You just learn to ignore it. Or use it."
He cut into his steak and chewed thoughtfully.
"I thought it would feel different. Like once I got here, everything would make sense. But now I've got people listening, and I'm still figuring it out as I go."
She smiled, not unkindly.
"That's the truth of it. Nobody really knows what they're doing. Some are just better at pretending."
He leaned back, nodding.
Charlie set his fork down, wiped his mouth, and gave Kate a quieter look. The kind that wasn't filtered through fame or flirtation, just honest curiosity.
"So," he said, nudging the conversation away from the industry, "are you... dating again? After your last breakup?"
Kate raised an eyebrow, not in surprise but amusement. "Going straight for the personal column, are we?"
Charlie chuckled. "Just trying to talk about something that isn't work or fame or whether I'm using my sudden platform wisely."
She sipped her wine and gave a small nod. "Fair enough. No, I'm not dating anyone right now. After my last relationship ended, I decided I needed a break. Not from men, necessarily, just from trying to fit myself into something that didn't feel right."
"Yeah?" Charlie said.
Kate swirled her wine gently before continuing. "You spend so much time trying to make something work because everyone expects it to. The appearances, the events, the rehearsed chemistry. It wears on you after a while. And after that, I just… stopped looking. I haven't found someone good. Not yet."
Charlie nodded slowly, considering her words. "That makes sense. Sometimes it's easier being alone than pretending you're not."
Kate tilted her head, giving him a look. "And you? Are you still with your girlfriend? The one you mentioned at that yacht party, what was her name… Lisa? Wait! That's your girlfriend from the videos, huh?"
He gave a quiet laugh, then looked out the window for a second. "Yeah. We are together. But it's complicated and fun." He turned back to face her. "I'll tell you, but you have to promise not to judge me."
Kate raised both hands with a smile. "Now I'm definitely curious."
Charlie leaned forward, resting his arms on the table.
"Lisa is still in my life. But so is someone else. Her name's Laura. You've seen her in the music video. And… I'm seeing both of them."
Kate blinked once; she was clearly surprised.
He continued. "They both know. It's not some secret affair. It started out strange, obviously. Laura came back into my life out of nowhere, and Lisa... well, she wanted to spice up our relationship with something unique, and both talked a lot. And eventually, they came to me with the idea. That maybe this doesn't have to be a triangle. Maybe it can just be... something new. Something we make work."
Kate set her wine glass down gently. Her expression didn't shift into judgment or disbelief. If anything, she looked more curious than before.
"So they agreed to that? To share?"
"They did," Charlie said. "It's not perfect. We're still figuring things out. But it's honest. Nobody's lying or sneaking around. There's trust, actual rules, and a lot of communication. And I know how this sounds. But it's real."
'Damn it! I was hoping he's single. Just like the last time... Haa, my bad luck. Now he has two beautiful women in his life.' Kate sat back, folding her arms lightly. "That's rare. Most people can't even manage honesty with one partner, let alone two."
Charlie looked down at his plate, then back up at her. "I thought it would fall apart. That it would be a disaster. But somehow, it hasn't. They support me. They support each other. And yeah, people would have opinions if they found out, but I stopped caring what strangers think. I care about the people who show up when it matters."
Kate nodded slowly, absorbing it. "That's more mature than half the married couples I know. Maybe all of them."
Charlie smiled, feeling strangely relieved. "So... you're not going to lecture me about morality and traditional values?"
She laughed. "Charlie, I've been in a nine-year-old relationship with a guy and even had his child, but in the end, he never proposed to me, and one day it's simply over. Maybe, if he were as honest as you with me from the beginning, things could've been different. But well, if you've got something that works, and everyone involved is on the same page, without sneaking around, and you have good communication, then good for you."
Charlie smiled at her last comment and reached for his coffee. He took a slow sip, then set the cup down and looked at her.
"You must like honest men then. The ones who lay it all out from the beginning, no filters."
Kate gave him a thoughtful smile. "Yes. I do. I've had enough of guessing games. I don't want to go through another messy relationship where someone pretends to be someone they're not, only for everything to unravel six months later."
Charlie leaned in a little, not flirtatiously, just sincerely. "It's weird, isn't it? You'd think honesty would be the bare minimum, but people act like it's this rare skill you have to earn."
She nodded. "Most people lie because they think it's easier. Or because they want to be liked more than they want to be understood. And in this business, the truth gets diluted until no one recognizes it anymore."
"I didn't know that at first," Charlie said. "I used to think honesty would make people run. That if they really knew me, if I didn't put on a little charm or soften the edges, they'd disappear."
"But you tried it anyway," Kate said. "And they didn't disappear."
He nodded. "They stayed. And even when it got messy, they stayed anyway. That changed how I look at everything."
Kate looked out the window for a moment, watching people walk by. A man with a briefcase hurried past a woman in a long coat who balanced a coffee and a phone. The city moved around them, fast as always.
"I admire that," she said, turning back to him. "I really do. Most men in your position wouldn't say any of what you just said. They'd stick to the script. Pretend they're single for PR. Make vague comments about focusing on their career."
Charlie smiled. "Well, I already wrote a song about a threesome last night. Not much left to hide."
Kate laughed, the kind of laugh that relaxed her shoulders. She picked up her wine glass again but didn't drink yet. "So let me ask you something, since we're being honest. Why did you say yes to lunch today?"
Charlie didn't hesitate. "Because I never stopped wondering what might have happened if I had called you. I figured I might never get another shot, and if I ran into you again and didn't take it, I'd regret it just as much."
Kate watched him quietly for a second.
"Is that the only reason?" She asked, raising an eyebrow as she leaned forward.
"Humm..." Charlie also leaned forward. "Maybe there's another reason."
"Are you going to tell me?" She asked.
"Only if you promise to have breakfast with me," He said with a warm smile.
Kate couldn't help it. She laughed, louder than she intended, and it drew a glance from the waiter across the room. She covered her mouth for a second, trying to compose herself, but her eyes stayed fixed on Charlie. The man had just asked her to breakfast. Not dinner, or drinks, not even a late-night "want to come up?" kind of invitation.
'Breakfast.'
'Who asks a woman for breakfast?'
She had spent years swimming in a sea of polished actors and overconfident industry men who all seemed to think charm was a currency and sex was the receipt. They played their parts well—well enough that she sometimes went along with it, hoping maybe one of them had something real hiding behind the scripts. They all said the right things. They knew how to flirt, how to flatter, how to build a moment. And when dinner was over and the car pulled up to the curb, they knew how to say "my place or yours" without ever saying the words. And when she said no, she stopped getting good roles. It was like they began to blacklist her and push her away from the mainstream.
But Charlie… he didn't play by those rules.
Breakfast.
It sounded innocent, but the more she thought about it, the more it landed differently. Too many thoughts ran through her mind as she reached multiple conclusions: Breakfast meant the night had already passed. It meant someone stayed, not just for the sex, but for the morning after. It meant he cared whether she liked her eggs scrambled or poached. It meant he was okay seeing someone without their makeup, with sleep still in their voice, and their hair a little out of place.
Breakfast was intimacy, not seduction. [PS: Took a while to think this one up about breakfast.]
And here he was, sitting across from her, calm as ever, like he didn't even realize what he had just said. Or maybe he did. Maybe he meant it exactly that way.
Kate tilted her head and studied him for a moment.
He wasn't trying to impress her. He wasn't leaning in with bedroom eyes or dropping compliments designed to disarm. He was just there. Honest, steady, and open in a way that most men never managed to be. Especially not men who had just gone platinum and topped global charts.
She picked up her wine glass again and took a small sip, letting the coolness of the Chablis settle the flutter in her chest.
"You really mean breakfast?" she asked.
Charlie smiled. "I do."
She shook her head, still smiling. "You are… something else."
"I'll take that as a yes," he said, gently pushing his empty coffee cup aside.
Kate leaned back in her chair, looking out the window again, then back at him. "Alright."
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