“Is everything okay? Oh. Hi.” Her fair skin blushes in an instant and I can’t deny the reaction she pulls out of me. I smile as she pauses in the entryway, but wipe away my grin when Sadie glances over at me.
“Carson, I’m so sorry about this intrusion. This is my sister, Sadie. Sadie, this is Carson Fletcher. As I’ve told you, I’m using your house as a baseline model for the home I’m designing for Carson and her daughter.”
“That’s such a unique name. Wren, you mentioned she was beautiful, but not this gorgeous.” My sister winks at me and I’m debating how she would look with an eye patch if I rip that eye from her skull.
“Oh, thank you.” The two of them talk for a while, about her daughter, who I find out is named Ava, and what Carson does for a living. But my sister knows no boundaries.
“So, where’s Ava’s father?” My sister is as subtle as a car alarm and I slap my palm down on the table.
“Sadie, enough. That’s none of your business. I’m sorry, Carson. My sister is known for being quite rude. We should go. Thanks for letting us look at the house, Sades. I’ll talk to you later.” I place my hand on Carson’s back and lead her toward the front door.
“Your house is lovely. Thanks for letting me look at it,” Carson calls over her shoulder to my sister.
When we get outside, I rub a hand over my forehead, searching for the appropriate words to apologize for my sister’s lack of tact.
“Carson, I’m truly sorry for my sister. She puts her foot in her mouth more than a baby does with theirs.”
“It’s okay. I don’t mind talking about Ava’s father.” Her lips are pulled into a small, sad smile. I wait for her to elaborate, but she’s gotten choked up.
I’ve definitely thought about asking her out on a date, but now is definitely not the time. She clears her throat and switches gears.
“Well, thanks for bringing me here. But, um, I need to get back to my daughter. We’ll talk soon?” It’s more of a statement than a question and she peels out of there before I get a chance to utter another word.
Sixteen
Carson
Looking at Sadie’s house was enough to get my creative juices flowing about what I do and don’t want in a house. We’re back at Wren’s office today and the climate of this meeting is much better than the last. He altered some of the designs and he’s done nothing but treat me with patience and respect. I knew he wasn’t a naturally uncouth person.
“This space here,” he points to a large square on the back corner of the design. “This can become your master bedroom or office.” I debate over the options. I was never a fan of having a master downstairs and I’d like to be on the same floor as Ava.
“If we break up that space we could make it an office and have it connect to the playroom so I can watch Ava play if I need to work.” He jots down the notes and we move to the upstairs. Having the master upstairs will cut into the overall size of the three bedrooms, but I’m okay with that. I never said I needed anything extravagant. Besides, it’s just me and Ava. The house is big enough already.
“You have an eye for detail, you know that?” My face warms at his praise.
“I am a photographer, after all.” It feels so cliché to say ‘I’m a blogger!’ when I do so much more than that. While I do blog, I also take all the pictures and work every event. It feels like just yesterday I was making a caramel macchiato with extra whip and now I’m posting artful shots of them on my lifestyle blog. I’ve come full circle.
“Do you have a gallery or something where I can see your work?”
“I wish. Someday, but right now it’s all online.”
“Don’t tell me you’re a blogger too.” His harsh laugh radiates through my bones and the uncomfortable itch of embarrassment spreads through my veins.
“I am.” His face pales and it gives me a little bit of pride to know he’s feeling like an ass.
“I’m sorry. One of these days I’ll learn to compliment you instead of putting my big ass foot in my mouth.” He clears his throat, embarrassed by what he said. My face feels hot and I pull on the ends of my hair, wracking my brain for something, anything to say.
“So, how about we revisit the kitchen. I’d like a big island in the middle and marble countertops.” I direct us back to the design and he nods, eager for the topic change while I’m eager to build my dream home.
҉ ҉ ҉
The next several months pass in a blur. Design changes and waiting upon waiting for permits and a bunch of other bureaucratic bullshit I wasn’t aware of. They finally broke ground on the house last month and I’m excited to see the process and the progress they’ve made.
Wren has figuratively held my hand the entire way, guiding me through the entire process with patience. He’s managed to stop insulting me, intentionally or otherwise, and I feel like I’m starting to see the real Wren.
He’s a good man. A handsome man. Though, he’s the quiet and brooding type which is a total one-eighty from my previous relationship. I can’t begin to understand my attraction to Wren when he’s so different from Maddox.
Maddox was loud and in your face in the best way. He wasn’t shy about his feelings for me or living life to the fullest. He never insulted me, accidentally or otherwise, and he certainly never judged me. He was a total optimist and extrovert and laid his heart on the table beside all his cards. I never had to wonder what he was thinking or how he felt.
God, I miss that man so much. It still hurts. But I can’t deny that for the first time in more than five years I’m attracted to a man, even if I don’t understand it.
Wren is the polar opposite of Maddox. He’s quiet and reserved. He’s clumsy with his words and he’s as closed off as they come. I can’t determine if he likes me or if he’s just treating me like another client He’s so introverted that I can’t get a good enough read on him to know if’s he’s an optimist or pessimist or freaking Scorpio or Libra. He’s a mystery and I cannot help but be intrigued.
I like him. Well, I want to like him if I learn enough about him. Still, there’s guilt eating me alive at the thought of dating someone else. Yes, it’s ridiculous and I’m young and I need to move on as everyone keeps telling me, but it’s scary and it hurts.
Not only does the thought of replacing Maddox paralyze me with guilt and fear, but it’s worsened by the potential that whoever I choose could leave me just like he did. I could never replace Maddox and I would never want to. I wouldn’t want my daughter to think I was replacing her father.
I’m terrified of putting my heart back out there and getting hurt again or getting rejected. I’m scared to move on, as if dating someone new will wipe away my feeling and history with Maddox. I’m scared to forget him and what we had together.
My phone rings, pulling me from my conundrum and I blindly swipe to answer. Whenever I don’t check my phone, I imagine this is what it was like back in the dark ages before caller ID.
“Hello?” I walk to my fridge and grab a bottle of water, cradling my phone between my shoulder and my ear.
“Carson, hi.” Wren’s voice floods my ear and I’m shocked, causing me to almost drop my phone.
“Hi. How are you?” I take a sip of water to wet my suddenly dry mouth.
“I have a proposition for you.” My apartment must be cold because goosebumps pebble on my arms. It certainly has nothing to do with the deep, raspy tone on the other end of the phone.
I don’t know what to say, so I stay quiet and allow him to fill in the blanks. “Do you want to go somewhere with me?”
My jaw goes slack and if I were a cartoon my tongue would loll out of the side of my mouth. Where is this coming from? Sure, I’m interested, but I’m also a little confused.
“Where?” I listen for sounds of my daughter waking up from her nap, but she’s still out like a light.
“That’s a surprise.”
I debate my response. Yes, I want to go, but I’m nervous and I can’t keep dropping Ava off at my parents’ house.
“I want to come with you, but I need to secure a sitter first.” Is this a date? Should I ask? This is entirely out of my element. What am I supposed to wear on a secret excursion in the middle of the day?
“Okay, call me back if you get everything worked out. Oh, and wear something comfortable. With sneakers.” With a glance at the clock, I see it’s ten after two and my sitter is still in school for another twenty minutes.
Still, I fire off a text to her, asking if she can come by the minute she’s out of class. I may bloat the truth a bit, saying it’s related to my house. But it might not be a lie; I can’t be sure yet. She responds that she’ll watch Ava, and I run to my room to change.
Seventeen
Carson
I take a deep breath through my nose and quickly realize what a shit idea that is when my nostrils are assaulted with the tempting, manly scent of Wren. He picked me up at the apartment and I’ve been a nervous wreck ever since. We’re not dating. It’s become my mantra in the last thirty minutes because my mind is wandering and I need to calm down.
Just because the attraction is there for me doesn’t mean it’s mutual. And I still don’t know if I want it to be mutual. All I know is, I enjoy spending time with him and that says a lot to me. Even admitting my attraction to him is a big deal.
I’m twenty-five. I should be past the teenage immaturity and I should’ve gotten comfortable in the dating scene. I should have a few one night stands under my belt and various drunken incidents I refuse to recount to this day.
Instead, I was forced to grow up faster than I thought I would. The life I had with Maddox was fast-paced and all consuming. It taught me a lot about life and love, but I have questions about that time too. Questions that make me feel remorseful whenever I think of them.
We were eighteen when we met. Just babies. We fell deeper into love than I thought could happen and the time I had with him meant everything.
People should always love as strongly as they do when they’re teenagers. We fall deep and hard and fast. We go a little crazy; we get overly attached. We always get told that teenagers don’t know what love is, but that’s not true.
Teens don’t love like adults because we don’t know the trials and tribulations and how hard sustaining love can be. But we love with reckless abandon, clutching do our partners like they’re our lifeline.
Wouldn’t it be nice if love was always that chaotic? If we were always in a little too deep. If life never got in the way and turned us into cynics.
Maybe the world would be a better place that way.
Maybe I wouldn’t be so angry then.
But I am angry. At life. And…at him.
I’m mad he left me. I’m mad he sought me out to begin with and that thought riddles me with insurmountable guilt. Without him, I wouldn’t have Ava and I wouldn’t have that love, but I wouldn’t have the hurt either. I hate feeling this way. I would never want to take any of it back and I don’t regret a minute of it.
Yet, I still wonder if we’d have lasted. If he weren’t sick, would we have moved so fast? Would we have lived together and gotten pregnant and kept the baby? Would we still be together right now?
I like to think we would, that our circumstances didn’t play a hand in the love we shared, but I’ll never know for sure.
My relationship with Maddox took up the time in my life reserved for experimenting and learning about myself and who and what I like. I gave up everything for him and I still love him more than I thought possible, but a part of me was lost with him.
I’m twenty-five years old and I have the relationship experience of a girl on Teen Mom. I don’t know what I like when it comes to dating and what my deal-breakers are.
I’m a successful businesswoman, and in life, I’m still stuck in a teenage mentality. Just because Maddox forced me to grow up all too fast, doesn’t mean every part of me did. I’m still immature and naïve and in some aspects, totally clueless.
I’m a single mom and my boyfriend is dead and life is unfair.
“Are you okay?” My neck cracks as I snap it to look over at Wren.
“Yup, all good.” I’ve barely muttered a word to him since entering the car and having my thoughts mingle between my past and the present is jarring. I need to stop comparing these two because it’s like comparing an apple to a dog toy—they’re not remotely similar.
“Where are we going again?” He never told me, but I’m trying to trip him up.
“If you were paying attention you’d know.” He’s joking with me which is refreshing because I wasn’t sure he had a humorous bone in his body—aside from his actual humerus, anyway.
I look out the window as we enter the nice, upcoming development where I’m building my house. A smile pulls at my lips as understanding dawns. He’s taking me to see my house. That’s why I needed sensible clothes and shoes—to navigate a construction site. I guess I didn’t lie to the babysitter after all.
He pulls into what will be my driveway and parks. I get out and stare at the bones of my future home. I don’t know what I’m looking at and I can’t get a clear vision of what it will look like, but the effort and the thought is pretty cool.
“Come on.” Wren offers me his hand and I stare at it for a beat too long. Long enough for him to waver and his face to fall, but at the last second, I wrap my fingers around his.
We walk over the rubble leading to the structure and step over the threshold into what will presumably be my entryway. There are no walls up yet, just wooden pillars scattered throughout to make the rooms.
Wren leads me to the back corner of the house and stands with his arms spread and a smile on his face. “What do you think?”
“I…love…it?” I look around, my eyebrows pulled close together.
“Remember? This is your office, and that right there,” he points in front of him, “is Ava’s playroom. Just how you wanted it.”
He’s proud of himself and he’s begging for my approval. “I’ll tell you I love it again in a few more months when it’s finished.” He laughs and we continue onto the rest of the house.
After touring the first floor, we end at the living room and he points to the rickety wooden stairs. “You expect me to climb those things? No way.”
The adamant shaking of my head only seems to amuse him. “They’re perfectly safe, I promise.” He takes the first step and keeps climbing. When he reaches the middle, he turns back toward me. “See? Come on. I won’t let them hurt you.” He offers me a crooked smile and I narrow my eyes, not fully trusting him.
At the top of the steps is a hallway and right in front of us is a bathroom. There’s another bedroom across from a playroom, where I can visualize my daughter with her toys sprawled around her. Her Barbies could make a home in the far corner and her bookshelf could be up against this wall.
My brain concocts a sight I’ll never see, with Maddox sitting on the floor, playing with her and reading to her. In my mind, he’s always the same twenty-year-old I lost, even as Ava ages.
Wren comes up behind me, brushing my arm with the back of his hand which causes me to jump. I’d been zoned out, starting off at a future that will never happen.
I turn to face him, but I don’t make eye contact as the words spill out of my mouth. “Ava’s father…the reason he’s not around. He passed away on the day she was born.”
Wren pulls me into a hug. “I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from,” I tell him.
“It’s okay. I’m sorry you went through that. I didn’t know.” He mumbles into my hair and I make the first move to pull away.
“How could you?” I stare into the future playroom for a while longer, letting my dreams settle into my head.
We continue to the master suite and my mind continues to conjure up images that will never happen.
Including a few daydreams involving Wren sitting here playing with my daughter.
“This is my bedroom?”
He nods and I walk around the large space. The
bathroom foundation has been set and I know where my big, beautiful tub will go. I can picture the rain shower in the corner and the double sinks. I don’t need all these things and all the space, but I want it. Growing up, sharing a bathroom with Flynn was enough to push me to want some extra room in my own home.
“What are you doing?”
I’m moving my arms around, physically visualizing where everything will go. “I’m planning where my dresser will go and my walk-in closet. My bed will go right here, where we’re standing.”
“Right here? I better move then. I don’t want to be presumptuous.” He smirks, but his eyes ignite and my face heats.
“It’s okay. You can stay.” I grab his arm and it’s the most brazen move I’ve made in my entire life. Despite the fact that a bed isn’t here and it’s not my bedroom yet, the words still carry the same weight. He knows what I meant.
With my words, he turns toward me fully. We’re close enough to touch and if I reached my hand out, I could brush my fingers over his stubble.
Car doors close in the distance, birds chirp outside these makeshift walls, but the loudest noise of all is the thrumming of blood echoing in my ears.
My eyes meet his and flicker down to his lips and for the first time in years, there’s no doubt in my mind that I want to kiss him. I want to feel his lips on mine, taste his mouth, hear and feel his desire. I want to give everything I take and not care about the consequences.
His face is pained as he searches my eyes. He leans in and I lift onto my toes, my eyes fluttering closed.
“Boss man, what are you doing here?” We break apart like we’ve been struck by lightning.
“Hey Max, this is Carson. This is her house. I was just showing her around the property, giving her an update, all that fun stuff.” He clears his throat about twelve times telling his employee his story. As if we weren’t a hair’s breadth away from making out in my future bedroom. So fucking stupid.
“We were just leaving.” I walk past the men and down the stairs, opting to stand beside the car instead of in the tension inside.
Selfless (A Carolina Coastal Novel Book 1) Page 8