Didn't Mean To Love You (Serendipitous Love Book 2)

by Christina C Jones

  When I opened my eyes, Carter was pulling the last of his clothes from the washing machines to transfer to the dryers. He glanced back, smiling when he realized my eyes were open. “Machines are all yours, sleepy head.”

  “I had a few glasses of wine,” I said, for some reason feeling the need to explain my sleepy state as I stood, loading my own laundry into the machines. Carter nodded, closing the last door on the dryer and hitting a few buttons to start the cycle. Instead of leaving, he lingered, watching me as I measured detergent into the machines, started my own loads, then sat down.

  “So I heard you and the stuffed shirt broke up,” he said, not even giving me time to get all the way into my seat. “What happened?”

  I lifted an eyebrow, watching as he ambled toward me with his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. I took a deep breath, then hunched my shoulders. “I… I got dumped.”

  “Seriously?” Carter’s eyes went wide as he tilted his head, leaning into the metal counter. “He broke up with you?”

  “Yep.”

  Carter pulled his face into a scowl. “Wow. Why?”

  I shook my head first, not intending to tell him anything, but then… something in me snapped, and when I opened my mouth, everything came spilling out. “Um… I found out — on Instagram — that he got engaged, so I confronted him on it. He basically told me that everything I thought about our relationship was a lie, and then told me not to contact him again.”

  Carter seemed stunned into silence for a moment before he gave a slight shake of his head. “Oh. That’s… that’s heavy.”

  As ridiculous as it was, I chuckled. “Yes, it is. And now… I just feel like a fool. How could I not realize that he— ” I looked away as my voice broke. “Um… I’m sorry. This is stupid.”

  I scooted to the end of the chair to stand up, intending to leave before I further embarrassed myself by dissolving into tears, but Carter caught me by the hand, kneeling in front of me.

  “Fuck him.” He swiped the tears that sprang free from my cheeks with his thumbs, then cupped my face between his hands. “If that’s the shit he was doing behind your back, you’re not losing anything, Viv. And you’re damn sure not the fool.”

  “I am,” I countered, shaking my head. “I gave him my heart, and my body, and… I didn’t even matter to him… ” I lowered my chin as I covered my mouth to hold back a sob. I gave up when Carter pulled me against his chest, allowing myself a few moments to openly cry in his arms. “I don’t understand how a grown woman can be so horrible at not getting her heart broken.”

  “Will you chill? Don’t say stuff like that.”

  “It’s the truth,” I insisted as I sat up, desperately trying to dry my face with the backs of my hands. “It’s like I’m… cursed.”

  Carter scoffed. “You’re not cursed.” He pulled me into another hug, and I buried my face into his neck, inhaling the clean, spicy scent of his skin. In that moment, I didn’t even care about being overly-familiar. It just felt good to be held like this.

  When we finally pulled back, our eyes met. Carter’s arms were still around me, and we were close enough that I could have kissed him. I wanted to kiss him, and from the way he was looking at me, his gaze drifting down to my lips, then back up, I suspected the feeling was mutual. Instead, we just… stared, ignoring the buzzing of the washing machine, followed a few moments later by the dryer.

  Then, he smiled that bright, full smile that sent heat and moisture rushing between my legs. “You’re gonna be fine, Frenchy,” Carter said, patting me on the leg as he stood. “Don’t let an idiot have you walking around doubting yourself, okay?”

  He didn’t wait for my answer as he grabbed his basket and pulled his clothes from the dryers. After a quick “see ya later”, he was gone, leaving me feeling slightly confused about what — if anything — was happening between us. I shook my head, then stood to transfer my own clothes from the washing machines to the dryers Carter had just vacated.

  Later that night — or rather, extremely early the next morning — I sat in my living room folding my laundry. Near the end of the pile, an unfamiliar tee shirt peeked out from underneath my freshly washed bed linens. I smiled when I saw the Fresh Cuts logo emblazoned on the front of the formerly dark blue shirt. It hadn’t quite reached threadbare status, but was definitely well worn, and the logo was peeling and faded.

  A glance at the time on the wall told me it was far from an appropriate time of day to knock on his door to return it. I started to fold it into a neat rectangle to return once the sun had come up, but I paused for a moment. It was crazy, and I knew it, but something compelled me to bring the shirt up to my nose… just for a teeny tiny sniff. But damn, it smelled just like Carter. The same fresh, leathery, masculine scent of him clung to the clean shirt, and I knew what I was about to do was weird, but I didn’t care. I covered my face with it and inhaled, immediately got aroused, then wondered what the hell was wrong with me.

  “Less than a week after a breakup, you are sniffing a man’s clothes. That is very emotionally healthy, Vivienne,” I said aloud. And then, it occurred to me that I was talking to myself. Out loud.

  Way to go, me!

  I yanked Carter’s shirt from my face and folded it, sitting it to the side so I wouldn’t forget to give it back. When I finally crawled into bed that night, I consoled myself with the fact that I hadn’t felt the need to actually put the shirt on.

  That would have been creepy.

  — & —

  Every time my path crossed with a light-skinned guy, average height, average build, I thought it might be Darren. Slap a pair of glasses on him, and I was ready to run up, curl my fists into balls, and let out every bit of hurt and aggression I’d been dealing with in the two weeks since the breakup. I was at the point where my former ability to just lock my hurt feelings away and leave them ignored would really come in handy, but that skill was conspicuously absent this time around, and I had no idea why.

  Perhaps I’d outgrown it. Maybe I’d exhausted my “don’t really care anymore”, and this was my heart’s way of telling me, “I can’t take another beat down. Not like this.” In any case… I was ready to move on, ready to pull myself out of the doldrums and back into… back into being carefree.

  With a heavy sigh, I looked at the airtight container of espresso-infused truffles I’d just finished packing. They were a collaboration with Urban Grind, and I’d planned to send one of the employees to deliver them. On a whim, I decided to do it myself. I needed the fresh air.

  I pulled my jacket on and grabbed the container, cringing when the first blast of cold air hit my face. Just last week I’d been fine in only a sweater, but today I found myself wishing I’d brought along a scarf.

  When I got to UG, I wasn’t surprised at all to see Simone perched at the counter with a plate full of pastries, and a mug of what — with the way she said Roman was playing baby safety police — had to be decaf or hot chocolate. I pulled her into a sideways hug as I approached, then sat down beside her before handing the container of truffles to the head barista.

  “What is that?” Simone asked, eyeing the box as the other woman took it to the end of counter, using a clean pair of tongs to arrange them on a display case.

  “The truffles you designed.” I shrugged out of my jacket and draped it over the back of my chair, then stole a piece of cinnamon roll from Simone’s plate. I laughed when Simone beckoned for the young lady behind the counter to bring her several pieces of the chocolate. “You don’t think you have enough going on already?” I asked, motioning toward the stack of cookies on her plate.

  “You don’t think you should mind your business?” she lifted an eyebrow as she popped one of the chocolates into her mouth, closing her eyes as she savored the flavor.

  “Roman is gonna get you,” I teased. “Those have caffeine.”

  Simone gave me a playful roll of her eyes. “Roman isn’t anybody’s boss.”

  “You must be doing something you know
you shouldn’t.”

  Simone’s eyes went wide at the sound of Roman’s voice as he approached, peering over her shoulder at her plate. I laughed as she shoved another one of the chocolates into her mouth, then pushed the food in front of me. “Viv, I’m telling you, you’re gonna be fat as hell if you keep eating like that,” she said, her mouth still full of chocolate as she lifted her cheek for Roman to kiss.

  “You know you’re not fooling anybody, right?” Roman grinned as he kissed her again, reaching down to caress the cute little baby bump Simone had sprouted seemingly overnight.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She closed her eyes, sighing contentedly as he kissed her yet again, this time on the forehead, with his hand still resting on her belly.

  I needed to look away. Not because I was grossed out, or even jealous, but… okay, yeah, it probably was jealousy. I wondered if anyone would ever look at me like that, and rub my stomach like that while I grew the life we had created? Would someone be willing to smile while they whispered positively filthy things to me in public, which— from the euphoric look on Simone’s face, and her bottom lip pulled between her teeth — was exactly what was happening in front of me. They weren’t doing anything over the top, but their simple, love-filled interaction oozed such intimacy I felt like I was invading their privacy by gawking like a teenager.

  A hand brushed across my back, and before I even looked up, the tingle that washed over my skin told me it was Carter.

  “Hey,” I said, unable to help the smile that came to my face. He returned my greeting with a smile of his own as he headed to the counter to order his coffee, acknowledging Roman and Simone with a friendly nod of his head. I watched him the entire length of his short journey to the end of the counter, until the feeling that I was being watched made me return my gaze to Simone and Roman who were looking at me with barely-veiled amusement.

  “When did that happen?” Roman asked, nodding his head in Carter’s direction.

  I shook my head, pursing my lips in phony bewilderment. “When did what happen?”

  The two exchanged a look, then turned back to me and said “Hey” in unison.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I shrugged, stuffing my mouth with another bite of cinnamon roll, hoping that they would let it go.

  Roman shook his head. “Nah… before Carter started trying to move in on your friend here, your name was always in his mouth, but he was avoiding you cause you had a man. Now that you don’t, y’all are exchanging long looks and shit.”

  “So you’re saying Carter was talking about me?”

  His eyes went wide. “Ah, man, I think I hear one of my employees trying to get my attention.”

  He was actually saved by the approach of Carter, with a covered disposable cup in his hand. This time, he stopped to give proper greetings, a handshake for Roman, a little side hug and a playful belly rub for Simone, and a lingering side hug for me.

  Even with the warm greetings, something was off about Carter. The usual light in his eyes was missing, and every smile, every laugh as he made small talk with the three of us felt slightly forced. Not that I was any kind of expert on Carter, but I knew to expect a certain level of cheerfulness from him, and today, for some reason, it wasn’t there.

  “Hey,” I said, picking up the last of Simone’s truffles from the plate. “You wanna try one?”

  My heart sank a little when he shook his head, rejecting the small attempt to cheer him up. “I’m sure it’s good,” he responded, in a tone meant to soothe the rejection. “I’m not that into really sweet candies and stuff like that… remember?”

  I nodded, popping the truffle into my mouth as he said his goodbyes and left, without any of his usual teasing. That stuck with me for the rest of the day, and by the time I made it home, just before the sun was starting to set, I was feeling the same level of melancholy that I’d started the day with. When I flipped on the lights in my apartment, the first place my eyes fell was on the plant Simone had given me a few weeks ago.

  Shit.

  The leaves were drooping pitifully, despite its place in front of the window, and I suspected that my negligence about opening the blinds to let in sunlight was the culprit. I grabbed it, along with a bottle of water from the cabinet and took it up to the roof, hoping to catch the last few rays of sun before it disappeared for the night. Several of the tenants maintained a rooftop co-op garden, and I nearly pumped my fist in triumph when I saw the artificial sunlamps on timers distributed among the plants. Hopefully, they wouldn’t mind me adding my little houseplant to the mix.

  I opened my bottle of water and emptied it into the planter, sending up a silent prayer that my sickly-looking plant wouldn’t die. Simone would never let me live it down, even though I explained to her when she gave it to me that nurturing was not my thing, at least when it came to plants.

  Satisfied that I’d done all I could, I tossed the empty bottle into the recycling bin and turned to leave. Glancing across the roof, I noticed a familiar figure, perched on the edge of a bench in the covered outdoor seating area. He wasn’t facing me, but I would have recognized those locs and broad shoulders anywhere. Carter didn’t notice — or perhaps, simply didn’t acknowledge — me as I approached. He just kept staring out over the neighborhood, bathed in the last red-orange light of the sun. When I was beside him, he finally looked up, and I almost wished he hadn’t.

  I’d never seen this Carter, with tension so obvious in his jaw, shoulders drooping, no laughter in his eyes. In the time I’d known him, I hadn’t experienced him so subdued, so… sad. It was so unsettling that it broke my heart… just a little. I’m not sure what drove me to sit down beside him, but I did, laying my head on his shoulder. He remained silent as well, but after a few moments, he slipped his arm around my waist, pulling me a little closer.

  “You want to talk about it?” I asked quietly, tipping my head up to look at him.

  He looked at me, then shook his head. “Not right now.”

  “Okay.” I nodded, giving him a small grin. “You mind if I talk?” I asked.

  To my relief, he returned my smile, and even chuckled a little. “Go for it, Frenchy.”

  So, I did. I regaled him with stories my childhood, misadventures in college, trouble I’d very nearly gotten into with Eddie, anything I could to lift his spirits, and maybe even make him laugh again. I’m sure it was cold, but I didn’t notice, focusing instead on the warmth I gathered from his body pressed against mine. The sun was long gone, replaced by the moon and stars by the time we finally stood up, stretched our stiff limbs, and went back down to our floor, where we parted ways.

  The next morning, my plant — looking drastically better — was in front of my door, with a bright yellow post-it attached to the side.

  “You forgot this last night.

  And… Thank you.

  — Carter”

  — & —

  It was like I stepped into the twilight zone. Everybody went quiet, all eyes on me as I entered the door of Fresh Cuts. I guess I should have expected it, as a woman walking into a room full of men, but damn. It was…uncomfortable.

  Carter, all the way at the back of the shop, was barely suppressing a laugh as I finally put one foot in front of the other and began moving forward. I honestly wanted to bolt out the door, back to a place where stranger men weren’t staring a hole through my clothes, but Carter caught my eye and inclined his head, beckoning me to where he was. I kept my gaze focused on his, and as soon as I reached him, he ushered me to the back, into his office.

  “Well that was interesting,” I said, as soon as the door closed behind us. “Am I some sort of… anomaly or something?”

  Carter grinned. “Well… yeah, kind of. A beautiful woman walks into a room full of men, they’re gonna look.”

  “Seriously?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, seriously. You’ve never been in a barbershop before?”

  I rolled my eyes, smiling as I pointed up at my hair,
which was free of my usual messy bun, in a mass of curls that rested on my shoulders and stretched well above the top of my head. “When would I have occasion to visit a barber?”

  “That’s right,” he teased. “I forgot you’re on a mission to grow all of the hair.”

  “Shut up,” I said, batting his hand away as he reached for one of my curls. “I came because I wanted to give you something, and I was too excited to wait until later.” I cringed about admitting that, but he seemed not to notice.

  Good.

  Grinning, I held up a black and gold box, imprinted with the Guilty Pleasures logo. “You told me that you are not into chocolate, and I take that as both a personal insult and a challenge.”

  “It definitely wasn’t an insult, I—”

  “Uh uh uh,” I said, wagging a finger at him as I pulled the top from the box. “You will taste this, you will love it, and your mind will be forever changed.” I removed a piece and held it in front of him with my eyebrow raised. “Wait… unless you are allergic. Are you allergic to anything?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Good. Then, eat.”

  Shaking his head, he took the chocolate from me and took a bite, and I could almost tell he was preparing to repeat his insistence that chocolate just wasn’t his cup of tea. But then, I saw the exact moment the flavors hit his tongue. He eyes went wide, mouth stopped moving, and he gave a slow nod of his head.

  “Damn,” he said, popping the other half into his mouth. “It’s actually… really, really good. What the hell is in this?”

  “You’re not just saying that?” I asked, chewing on my bottom lip.

  He reached for another piece from the box. “Nah, these things are good. Tastes like it might get me drunk if I eat too many, but good. Is that what you’re trying to do, Frenchy, get me drunk off chocolate so you can take advantage of me?”

  “You wish,” I teased, holding the box away from him.

  Carter’s only response was a smile as he switched gears. “So are you gonna tell me what you’re feeding me or not?” he asked, easily maneuvering the box away from me.