Novel & Cerita Frozen Charlotte

With each sip of wine, I find myself agreeing more and more with everything said around me. "I’m not going home with any guys tonight. I’m going to enjoy myself and my air fryer," Charlotte says, chuckling. "I’ve had enough of men. They’re all shitheads." "The air fryer or... the air fryer?" Lina wiggles her eyebrows. "Both," Charlotte laughs.

Charlotte would bring the bill and take my card. Charlotte McAllister was twenty-eight years old, she owned the diner and worked from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. She lived alone in a comfortable single-story house on Second Avenue SW. She was five foot four and about a hundred and twenty pounds. She liked to read thriller novels and preferred romantic movies where she always cried at the end.

"Deal! I promise, Charlotte. Cross my heart." She ruffled his hair, heart easing. "Good. Now... do you want ice cream? My treat." His eyes lit up like fireworks. "Yes! Please!" "Which flavor?" she asked, already scanning the park. "Chocolate!" he declared, fists pumping. "The gooiest one." Charlotte chuckled. "Chocolate it is. Stay put." She wheeled him toward the exit path, parking the chair in shady comfort near a bench, brakes secure. "Wait right here—I'll bring it back. No wandering, hero."

In fact, the interior alone cost more than two luxury penthouses in this upscale neighborhood. I ignored her self-absorbed rambling, put my phone on silent, and went to sleep. … Early the next morning, I went downstairs on time and headed toward my reserved parking space. As soon as I pulled open the car door, a figure suddenly darted out from the side and grabbed the passenger door. It was Charlotte; she was wearing an incredibly over-the-top, sequined slip dress and a pair of four-inch heels. Worst of all, she was holding a steaming bowl of pungent chitlin stew.