I give a dull smile at the thought of referring to myself in third person.
“You wow me anytime I’m near you,” he says just under a whisper as if it weren’t entirely meant for my ears—simply a thought he whispered out loud. I want to smirk at the idea, but he brought me to this beautiful place as if he wanted me to see there is still beauty in this life. Misha is a far cry from Ned’s dismal Café. And, here, Carter hasn’t ogled the waitress once.
“Abby is adorable, by the way.” I peruse the menu a moment before settling on the gluten free Ahi personal pizza. I want to acknowledge the fact he brought her by. I realize she’s a part of him, an intimate part that he was willing to share. It crushed me to see Cheryl in her smile, but she had Carter’s even temperament, and for that small favor I was grateful.
“Thank you.” That pained expression he wore yesterday returns briefly. “I wanted you to meet her. And she had a lot of fun at the gallery. She can’t wait to get back.”
Get back? I muse to myself. It sounds as if Carter has decided it’s time to get our relationship back on track, and he’s already making changes, rearranging marriages, people, places as if our lives were a Rubik’s Cube, and he just had to make enough correct moves to land us where we needed to be.
“So do you share custody?” Of course, he does. Carter is hands on, not some weekend father who might even skip out on those seldom yet awkward gatherings like my own father did. Carter held Abby. His face filled with joy when she bounced back into the room, and then he gave her a happy spin as they made their way out.
“I have her every other week. There’s a schedule for holidays and special occasions.”
I give an anemic smile, wondering how in the hell I managed to paint us into a Cher-colored corner before we ever had the chance to kick start our digestive systems. The best thing to do is change the subject. Although, technically, I did paint Cher once. Black, lots of burnt umber. I think I wanted her to lose the baby that night. I painted until daybreak like some Santeria Priestess, useless, reckless, a blight to my own God. I’m glad she didn’t lose the baby. Abby won my heart as soon as her big eyes pulled me into their happy sea.
“So where are you living these days?” Perfect. He’s going to think I’m far more interested than I should be. I might be, but that’s beside the point. How can I not be? Carter is a god among mere mortals. His bed should never be empty. That, in and of itself, is a crime against humanity. Although the thought of other women warming his sheets makes me want to crawl under the table and bang my head against the floor, start swallowing shards of glass to end this misery already. I didn’t learn of his divorce from Cher until well after it happened last fall, so, in every way, Carter is still a fresh wound to me. The thought of him dating again sends my head spinning in an entirely new direction. A part of me wants to suction myself to him and never let go, but there’s too much damaged history between us, not to mention an entire person named Henry.
“Funny you should ask.” Carter loosens. His smile hooks onto his ego and dangles there for me to catch it. “My lease is almost up, and I’ve been on the prowl for new digs.” He nods over his shoulder. “There’s a house near Shipwreck’s I’m interested in. Maybe, afterwards, I could get your opinion?” Carter smolders into me as if this invitation were simply a means to lure me to his lair. His finger makes nonstop revolutions over the table in a small circular pattern, and that sweet spot between my legs pulses with promise.
“I would love to see the house.” My chest expands and retracts nonstop. This emotional tap dance Carter and I are engaged in already has me winded. So easily he’s cast me under his spell again. I knew, I knew being in his proximity would be nothing more than a mistake. Carter and I have so many wounds between us, hacking through the scar tissue alone is enough to kill any thoughts of a future we might have.
And then there’s Henry. Henry doesn’t feel as much as my husband as he should. In fact, it feels as if my true husband, Carter, walked out on me in the most brutal manner and Henry, the imposter, quickly took his position. It did feel right at the time. I measured how much pain it might bring to Carter and then dove into my revenge nuptials in hopes of gutting the one who hurt me most. I knew, deep down, I was doing love a disservice, but Carter had started the barbed ball rolling. The wounds were simply inevitable.
“Tell me what’s new with you.” Carter blinks me right out of my hypnotic trance as we put in our orders. “How are things with Henry?”
Unappetizing, I want to say. Can we not talk about Henry? I want to enjoy my Ahi. Henry is a knife plunged into my stomach. Henry isn’t a topic I want to explore with anyone, least of all Carter Cannon.
“Things are great. Henry is busy with life, and so am I.” The lies spill so seamlessly I wonder if they’re true.
Carter reaches forward and places his hand over mine, his fleshy warmth just a tad moist, and I try to drink him in this way, our cells joining in union by way of osmosis.
“I know this is none of my business”—he leans in with hushed tones, his eyes searching both of mine for answers before he can get the question out—“But Stevie has said things, and I just want to make sure you’re safe.” He nails his gaze into mine with that last word.
My heart throbs into my ears. Who knows what my sister has been filling his head with. My eyes gravitate to his, and my entire being freezes.
Carter. His eyes suck all the color out of the sea, out of the sky, and greedily absorb it for themselves. Carter is good at greedily taking the things he wants and making them his own. But what about the sky? The sea? Does he have no regard for the very thing that defines them? He didn’t for me when he took the color out of my soul, but that’s another story.
“Do I look unsafe to you?” I slip my fingers out from under his, and the breeze licks over my hand as if it were a fresh wound.
“You look hurt. You look sad.” There’s a heaviness in his voice as if he were the one about to cry because he was forced to point out the obvious.
“I’m safe. Henry treats me well.” Every time I open my mouth, an angry bee of a lie escapes just waiting to sting Carter. “You see what you want to see in other people, Carter. That’s always been you. You tell them what they’re supposed to feel because you are God, and you are in charge of everyone’s story.” The words pepper out like bullets from a sniper on some unseen hillside. They scrambled his brain, and now he doesn’t know what to say.
“I’m sorry.” He pauses to take a long drag from his water. “Just know that I care, and I would kill anybody who ever thought of hurting you.”
Carter would kill for me. This makes my heart swim through my skull with its ragged rhythm. I’m not sure why this homicidal theory appeals to me.
“That’s funny.” I hold back a smile from eclipsing the moment. “You’re still alive and breathing.”
“Aspen.” He leans in so close, I think he might kiss me. “There’s so much I did to us that I’m sorry for.”
The two of us enter into a standoff. Here it is, our past spraying in our faces like dried bear shit through a wood chipper. I’m not sure why I went there. Eating Ahi on the company dollar, while sitting on the edge of the Pacific is really a beautiful thing. But my anger has come to the party, and it doesn’t give a flying fuck about Ahi or the fabled edge of the ocean—it wants retribution hard and fast.
I lean in with a fire in my eyes, poison in my heart. “Listen to me because I’m only going to say this once.” My fingernails dig into the tablecloth in lieu of his flesh. “The topic of us is off limits for the next two weeks. After that you will continue to be dead to me, and I will go on with my husband.” I blink into my harsh words surprised they came from my lips at all. It’s as if I were thinking them, and the horror that I’ve actually spoken them out loud is almost too much to bear. Carter may have knifed my heart out four short years ago, but it was Cher who took the time to field dress me. Sometimes just speaking about the most painful experience of your existence is like imp
aling yourself on a sharpened blade for the hell of it. It should simply never be done.
We finish the rest of the meal in silence.
Carter
When I met Aspen she was about to topple from a ladder as she put up a sign in the student union. It was advertising homecoming, and I caught her before she could hit the ground, then I took her to the dance as my date. Of course, it was under the pretense of making my ex-girlfriend, Cheryl, jealous. She left me for a defensive lineman earlier that month, and my ego was only slightly bruised. Aspen suggested the idea in jest, and I took her up on it—even then I knew Cher and I weren’t right for one another. Making her jealous was pointless. Then Cher had a new roommate, Aspen, who soon became known to my dorm brothers as the-girl-I-caught-in-the-fall. But it was me who fell. Hard. I fell like lead for Aspen. Like a millstone plummeting into the sea, I knew there would never be hope for me once I saw her beautiful face, eyes so big you could see your reflection in them. Then the head games began, the school politics, the mixed signals, the mind fucks. At first it was her believing I wanted to make Cher jealous, then Cher—not one to handle a bruised ego herself—demanding to have me back. That was never the plan, but that’s what happened. It all so easily went to shit from there.
“This is it.” We hop out in front of the home I’m already knee-deep in escrow with, and I let Aspen up the narrow staircase first. It’s a beach house, six bedrooms, five baths. The backyard sits facing the ocean along a private bluff so you never have to worry about tourists wandering onto the property. Aspen and I could have all the privacy we want. I frown at the thought because it’s an indictment of my constant perverse desire for her to break the shackle securing her to Henry, her wedding ring. I’ve eyed it when she’s not looking. Simple. Odd looking. Two diamonds, flat, unappealing. Not much joy, and I’m betting that’s indicative of the state of her marriage. “There’s a private trail that leads to the beach. It’s a sandy cove. Perfect for body surfing.” Or making love. I have never made love to Cher. Not to anyone for that matter, but that cheesy sentiment seems to ring true when I think of the things I want to do to Aspen.
We finished lunch not ten minutes from here. This is the entire reason I suggested Misha. I’m saving Cash’s advice of cooking for her once her defenses are down a bit, and, judging by the barbs she flung my way at lunch, I was right to do so.
“Carter! This is amazing.” She touches her hand to her chest, and her fingers impress into her supple flesh. Aspen has the body of a swimmer. Toned and lean yet not overly muscular. Tits that make my eyes want to linger, perfect and round, not too showy, just right for her frame. My mouth waters just imagining the perfection they must be. I’ve seen Aspen in a bathing suit plenty of times to know she’s built to outshine the rest. Just the thought of greasy Henry touching her with his meat hooks, his beastly mouth falling over her in delicate places, makes me want to gouge my own eyes out. Better yet his.
“I have the key code. The realtor is a buddy of mine.” I enter the combination to the lock clamped over the entrance and let Aspen inside first. It’s cavernous, so hollow your breath echoes, but it’s the ocean view that does all the grandstanding.
“Oh, wow. I can live a very happy life here.” Her lips fall open as she holds her next breath. “You know, with Henry.” She speeds through the formal living room, the dining room, the state-of-the-art kitchen designed to feed an entire embassy of people.
“The bedrooms are upstairs along with a game room and office. I think Abby will love it.”
“You haven’t shown it to her?” She rocks her hips as if it were Aspen herself I owed the explanation to—and I think we both know I do. I like this version of Aspen, the one in which she takes Abby protectively under her wing. Nothing could warm me more.
“She knows I bought it. But it’s in escrow, and she can be impatient, so I thought I’d show her around come move in day.”
“And when’s that?”
“Two weeks.”
“Oh.” Aspen cocks her head. Her mouth puckers with delight as if sucking on a bottle of whiskey. “You have a lot happening in two weeks. I guess it’s a good thing you’ll be rid of me.”
“I’m not trying to get rid of you, Aspen.” A dark laugh gurgles in my chest. Getting rid of Aspen was never on my agenda, and, yet, I made it happen once before. I’m still paying the price for that one. I would have rather skinned myself alive and jumped into a vat of lemon juice. The pain wouldn’t have been nearly as bad. “In fact, in two weeks, I want to host a housewarming party, and I want you to be a part of it. Bring Henry. I want you to.” It comes out more of a dare, and I cringe hoping she doesn’t pick up on that inadvertent dig. I meant it. She can lug him all the way here just as long as she shows up with him.
“Thank you for the invite.” Her eyes cut into mine a little harder than I’m used to. “I might just do that.”
She heads up the stairs, and I show her the guestroom first.
“It’s big enough to be another master,” she muses, completely absorbed by the ceiling with its boxy soffits, the window with its angular curves. The entire house has a nautical feel to it.
“The bedrooms are all good sizes. That’s what I like best about this place, right after the view. Over here is Abby’s room.” I lead her next door. “There’s a full bath and a walk in closet.”
“She’ll appreciate that more when she’s older. I would have died for these amenities as a kid.”
Aspen grew up in Orange County with her mother in a small tract home not far from Disneyland. It sounded like paradise just hearing her talk about it. Then Sea Ridge happened to both of us. Boarding school was heaven once Aspen was in my arms, but, after that, paradise was lost, and, here we are, looking at the bedroom of the daughter I had with another woman.
“These walls are beautiful.” She runs her hand over one then examines it for dust. “They’re a perfect canvas. There’s so much you can do with children’s rooms these days.”
“Paint a mural.” I feel like I just shouted out the correct answer on a game show with only minutes to spare from the buzzer. “Paint anything you like. I’ll commission you to do it.” It’s a beautifully brilliant idea much like her mural will be. I’ll get Aspen filling these hollow walls, and Abby will get a scenic view into the imagination of the woman I love.
Her hands dig into her hips as she inspects the area with a renewed vigor.
“Abby loves the beach,” I spit it out quick before she exits the idea. “It would be a perfect theme in keeping with where we are. She loves butterflies, rainbows—unicorns. You could do a castle.”
Aspen laughs at my desperate monologue. “Would she like me to throw in a moat, too?” Her eyes meet with mine. That beautiful smile hangs on her perfect lips, and I die on the inside because I never thought I’d pull another ounce of joy from her again.
“Yes,” I tease. “And throw in a few superheroes. Maybe a self-portrait of yourself in a cape.”
“Please, Cannon”—she laughs, ambling back into the hall, and I follow—“I’m nobody’s superhero. You’re laying it on a little thick.” She pauses to look into my eyes, and I feel weak. I might need her to hold me up if she continues to stand so close to me without offering her touch. “So where’s the office? I’d love to see where you won’t be spending your days. We both know you’ll be too busy playing in the surf to ever set foot in it.”
“I’m giving it to the dog.”
“You have a dog?” She turns to me, startled, her defenses melting like wax. Aspen has always had a sweet spot for animals. And, I’ll be honest, when Jener hit me up with those puppies, I thought maybe it would be the key back into Aspen’s heart. I’m ashamed to admit that every move I’ve made since I lost her was an effort to get her back, with the exception of my wedding day. That was a thoughtless, careless act that only hurt everyone involved. That entire season of my life comes in snatches like some horrible trench from the bloodiest war. It was my tour of matrimonial duty. It was payment
for what I had done—impregnated a girl I didn’t care for. I was lost, insensitive and reckless in my attempt to make everything right. I was hypnotized by my stepfather’s words—man up. I thought I was manning up, but I was only falling down and taking everyone out with me.
“Huh.” Her brows arch with elation at the news of my pet pooch. “I thought you and your brothers were all about the pussy cats these days.”
We duck into the office for just a moment before I lead her back out.
“I have a Husky named Harley. She’s my other child. And, you’re right, both she and I will spend our afternoons digging in the sand.” I lead her to the end of the hall. “This is the master.”
Aspen walks in deep without pausing, her hands spread to her sides as if she’s about to take flight. It’s an erotic sight to behold as the sun pours through her airy white dress and glows like angel wings. Aspen looks like a bride, my bride, as she heads past the holy of holies, all the way to the balcony that overlooks the Pacific.
Her hair blows back in the breeze as the sun bleaches out her features, leaving her ruby lips, her pale eyes, popping against her skin.
“This is heaven.” She leans against the railing, looking out at the water, and I memorize it. I always want to remember Aspen this way, sacred and sublime, an exotic winged creature ready to take flight.
“This is most certainly heaven.”
“So this is where the magic will happen.” She strides carefully back into the heart of the bedroom, eyeing it suspiciously as if it might already be happening around her in some invisible realm.
I step in closer than an arm’s length, closer than I would find acceptable to any other woman, until I can feel the warmth radiating from her being.
“I’m hoping for all good things,” I whisper.
A Thousand Starry Nights Page 8