by Mariano, Sam
Is this too crazy to ask him? This is definitely too crazy to ask him. If I’m right, I don’t even know what I would do with that, and if I’m wrong, he would think I’m a paranoid, overthinking psycho. I’ve already theorized he cheated and he’s only been my boyfriend for a day and a half. For our two day anniversary, I can’t ask, “Also, did you by chance impregnate Erika in middle school and Chloe is actually your daughter? Asking for a friend.”
“You wanna see my dance moves?” Chloe asks.
“Sure, I’d love to see your moves.”
She takes a step back away from the table, then does a series of attempts at ballet moves. I’m not sure she actually nails any of them, but she’s five; who cares?
Upon finishing, she plants a hand on her hip and does an end pose.
Clapping my hands, I say, “Encore!”
“I don’t know that word,” she tells me, coming up to the table and looking at the food. Her nose instantly wrinkles up. “I don’t want any of this, either.”
“How about a cheeseburger?” Carter suggests.
“No,” she says.
“Hot dog?”
“Nuh uh.”
“Chips. You love chips.”
Chloe shakes her head and looks up at him. “I want to go to a restaurant. I want chicken tenders or spaghetti.”
“We can go to a restaurant for dinner,” he tells her. “It’s not dinner time yet.”
“I’ll wait,” she tells him. “How ‘bout some dessert first? I want a cookie.”
Carter shakes his head. “This is a cookout, not a bake sale.”
“Well, I want a cookie,” Chloe announces, like this should be sufficient reason for cookies to appear.
I’m not sure I should offer cookies to the five-year-old who hasn’t even eaten yet, but I give her brothers metaphorical cookies before dinner all the time, so what the hell? “We do have cookies,” I tell Carter. “Chocolate chip. Two for a dollar.”
“Two cookies! I want two cookies,” she tells him.
Carter pulls out his wallet, fishes out a dollar, and hands it to her. “Here you go. See that girl with brown hair?” he asks, pointing. “That’s Grace. Give her the dollar and tell her you want to buy two cookies.”
Chloe snatches the money and runs over to Grace’s side of the table.
Shaking his head, Carter stays right where he is. “Picky little shit.”
I grin. “Hey, I don’t blame her. Pasta is delicious. I would probably choose that over a boring burger, too.”
“You don’t work tonight, do you?”
I shake my head. “I work tomorrow, but I’m off today.”
“Perfect. When you’re done doing all this, I’ll take you both out for dinner.”
“Are your parents still going out?” I ask, mildly surprised. After seeing them at breakfast, I assumed they weren’t getting along today and might cancel whatever they had planned that meant Carter had to babysit.
“Yeah, they’re still going. Mom’s having an episode though, so she and my dad will end up fighting before he eventually drags her out of the house. Just better for Chloe not to be there for all that.”
“How is that all going to work when you go off to school? It seems like you’re a crucial cog in Chloe’s life.”
He glances over at her, paying for her cookies in her cute little ballet outfit. “Yeah, I’m not sure yet. Caroline says she’ll help out, but she and her husband are planning to start their own family soon and she doesn’t have enough time as it is.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”
“Are you really going to have a spare bedroom at your apartment for her?”
Carter brings his gaze back to me. “Yeah. It’s a three bedroom, so there’s enough space to set one aside for her. I figure bedroom, office, Chloe’s room. Unless I knock you up, of course. Then we’ll probably need a nursery.”
I widen my eyes and look around to make sure no one overheard, then glare at him. “Really? At a church function?”
Carter smirks. “Hey, you were doing it in my kitchen with my parents in the next room.”
“I was trying to scare you straight; you’re just bein’ a troublemaker.”
“No, I’m being a problem-solver,” he offers back, lightly. “If I knock you up, we already have to accommodate one kid. We could probably just have Chloe move to New York with us, wouldn’t be much added trouble.”
“I’m growing increasingly worried that you’re startin’ to view knockin’ me up as a way to lock down a dedicated nanny.”
“And lover,” he adds. “I’m seeing a lot of perks.”
“You are an insane person,” I tell him. “I want to go to college, not be trapped at home with Carter clones, watching you become successful. Especially because come your mid-life crisis, you would undoubtedly leave me for a co-ed after I gave you my best years and gave up my own goals to accommodate you and raise your babies. Sorry, it’s a hard no. I’ll be focusin’ on my own goals, thank you very much.”
“Pessimist,” he accuses. “I already told you I wouldn’t ruin your life. It’s like you don’t believe me or something.”
“Go figure,” I toss back.
Chloe comes running back over with a cookie in each hand. “Look what I got!”
Carter’s attention is still on me, though. He’s studying me again, a look on his face like the one that was probably on mine while I was theorizing about his relation to Chloe. “Where’s your father?”
“What?”
“Your dad. You live with your mom and a stepdad, right? You’ve never mentioned your father. What happened to him?”
I don’t like that question. It’s unreasonable to be annoyed by such a common inquiry, but I know what he’s doing. He’s trying to pin my fears about him on an absent, disappointing father—and I have an absent, disappointing father, so if I tell him that, he’ll be able to.
“I don’t have daddy issues,” I say instead.
“Then tell me what happened to him,” he counters.
“I don’t want to,” I state.
Carter smirks. “Because then I’ll be able to logically argue against your fears. Right. Why would you want that?”
“My fears have nothin’ to do with my father, Dr. Mahoney,” I say, dryly. “My fears have everything to do with what I know about you as a person, your life goals, and men just like you. Selfish people can’t be relied on, and a relationship is not a life plan. It’s important to do your own thing, that way you never come to a point where you’ve built your whole life around someone else and then they decide to leave and your whole world crumbles. A romantic relationship can be the icing on the life-cake, not the flour in the batter.”
“So, he left you and your mom for some other woman,” Carter surmises. “Do you ever see him?”
“I have no desire to,” I mutter, annoyed at him now for digging. “He broke my mom’s heart and abandoned all of his responsibilities. He’s dead to me.”
“I would never do that,” Carter states. He seems sincere enough, but of course he does. No one would admit they would ever do that to begin with, but most people probably also don’t think they would until they’ve slid so far down a moral hill, all of a sudden it’s acceptable. “Say what you will about me, Zoey, but I don’t abandon my responsibilities. Never have, never will.”
As if to illustrate his point, Chloe goes, “Mm, this cookie is delicious.”
Baby sister, secret daughter—whatever she is to him, he does help take care of her. It doesn’t seem like anyone forces him to. Even today, he has her out of the house because he knows things will be tense there and that wouldn’t be good for her to be around. That is absolutely responsible behavior, and it sounds like his motivation to do it comes from within, not his mother or anyone else pressuring him to do it.
Instead of saying any of that, I pointedly start rearranging condiments, hoping he’ll see I’m busy and go away for the time being. “I don’t have daddy issues,” I tell him again. “And you don
’t have any responsibilities attached to me. Behave yourself and we can keep it that way.”
Chapter 31
What began as an easy—if boring—day volunteering at the church quickly turned into a crush of people. Carter bought a cheeseburger he only took one bite of before tossing in the trash, but he utilized that one bite like a marketing pro—to take a posed picture of him and Chloe, then post it online with a call to all his followers to come on out to the church and support a good cause… plus, get to hang out with him, and score a chance at an autographed ball signed by the football team.
Boy, did they show up. We sold out of burgers and had only four hot dogs left by the time the last person had ordered and we could finally clean up. Carter also directed people to the baskets, so we ended up selling a lot more tickets than we expected to.
I’m hot, sticky, and exhausted by the time I’m done working. I tell Carter I have to swing by my house and take a shower first, and he takes Chloe home to change out of her ballet clothes before we go out to dinner.
Carter picks me up. I’m too tired and worn out from the heat of the sun beating down on me while I worked all day to even ask where we’re going, but before long, the Dallas skyline comes into view.
“We’re goin’ into the city for dinner?” I ask, finally sitting up and taking notice.
“Yep.” He misses a beat, then he says, “We’re going to Porter’s.”
Remembering he said his sister owns Porter’s, dread snakes through me. “Haven’t I met enough of your family members for one day? Give a girl a break, would ya?”
The corners of Carter’s mouth tilt up. “This is a make-up meeting. Since the one earlier went so poorly, I wanted to bring you to meet my sister. She’s cool, you’ll like her.”
“I wish you’d’ve told me that,” I tell him, glancing down at my outfit. I’m wearing jeans with a snag in the knee and a worn T-shirt. “I’m not exactly dressed to impress.”
“I’m taking care of it,” he assures me.
“What does that mean?”
He doesn’t answer. I’m growing accustomed to him outright ignoring me when he doesn’t want to answer, so I turn my attention out the window and watch as we drive into the city. A short time later, we arrive at a shopping mall and Carter parks the car. I’ve never been to Porter’s, but I know it’s not located inside a shopping mall, so I know we aren’t here to eat.
“Are we going shopping?” Chloe asks cheerfully, clearly delighted at the prospect.
“We’re just making a quick stop,” he tells her, taking her hand as he leads her around the car. “We’re going to buy Zoey a dress to wear to dinner. You want to help her pick it out?”
“Yeah,” Chloe says, nodding. “And I want a new dress, too.”
“We’re here for Zoey today,” he informs her.
“But please,” she drawls passionately.
After a brief shopping excursion, we head to the register with a pretty—though a touch sexier than I would have selected for myself—little black dress for me, and a new dress with Minnie Mouse on it for Chloe.
“This dress is so pretty,” Chloe announces, holding it up in the air so the red tulle doesn’t drag on the ground. “I’m gonna wear it all the time.”
Still feeling self-conscious about letting Carter buy me an outfit, I tell him, “I think I should pay for this myself.”
Carter slows down, falling into step beside me and letting Chloe take the lead. “No,” he says, simply.
“You can’t veto me,” I tell him. “You’re not my boss, Carter Mahoney.”
“You don’t have the money. I do,” he says, simply. “Besides, I’m not even using my own money. I’m charging all this to my credit card. The bill goes to my father. Technically, my dad is buying you a new dress, and don’t you think that’s the least he could do after being so rude to you at breakfast?”
I do dislike his dad.
“I mean, all that shit he said about your misunderstanding with Jake?” Carter continues, shaking his head. “Guy’s a dick. Let him pay for it.”
Even though he’s right, I recognize his techniques as the same ones he used on Jake when Carter was trying to persuade him to do his bidding, even in spite of Jake’s best interest. Shaking my head at his second nature manipulation, I envision Carter’s future. Without any training, he’s already a shark. What kind of man will he be after an Ivy League law school teaches him new tips and tricks?
“What?” he asks, since I’m shaking my head at him.
“I just can’t decide if I should be envious of or feel bad for your future wife.”
Smiling, Carter drapes an arm around my shoulder. “I’m gonna marry you, remember? You don’t strike me as the type to spend a lot of time feeling sorry for yourself.”
“I won’t. Not even after our divorce when you’re shacking up with a 20-year-old yoga instructor,” I tell him, exaggerated pride dripping from my tone. “I’ll just take half of your shit in the divorce—the good half. I think we should buy a vacation home somewhere with a beach, that way I can lounge by the ocean with a hot young thing of my own. Even up the score, you know.”
“Of course. That seems fair.”
“Even though it’ll be your mid-life crisis that causes it, I’ll win the divorce,” I inform him.
“I don’t doubt it. Give it a month, I’ll be so annoyed at how well you’re doing without me—not to mention I’ll miss you so much—I’ll come crawling right back.”
Grinning over at him, I ask, “Do you crawl?”
“Well, no,” he admits. “But I’ll stride in, throw you over my shoulder caveman style, haul you to the bedroom, and reclaim you as my wife. That’s about as close to crawling as I can get.”
“Will you at least slouch?”
“Probably not. Gotta show your dumb fucking boyfriend what an imposing man I am. After I reclaim you in the bedroom, I’m gonna drown him in the ocean for daring to touch you,” he adds, casually.
“That seems reasonable. Do I get to kill the yoga instructor for touching you?”
“I already did. Thought I might have to, in order to atone for being such a massive douchebag.” Leaning close, he murmurs in my ear, “Turns out, the make-up sex was sufficient. Oh well.”
He’s crazy, but that he even manages to charm me in this jaded, imaginary scenario where I should hate him is as exasperating as it is endearing. I wrap my arm around his waist so I can lean in closer. “That’s why you’re my favorite sociopath,” I inform him.
His arm tightens around me and he jokes, “I better be. I’m not afraid to take out the competition.”
* * *
When we get to Porter’s, I’m really glad Carter made me get the dress. I tug at the hem absently as I walk beside him and Chloe into the lavish dining area. A neatly coiffed hostess in a black dress walks ahead of us, clutching menus to her chest. I steal glimpses here and there as we walk past tables and booths full of patrons, most of them in attire ranging from business-casual to cocktail. Even the few open tables in the room are set with bone-white plates, folded cloth napkins, and spotless clear goblets, maybe for water or wine.
There’s a silver-haired man in a tuxedo playing the piano along the back wall. Behind him, an entire floor-to-ceiling wall of wine bottles, like the inside of a well-stocked wine cellar, but on steroids.
“This place is beautiful,” I tell Carter.
Carter stops where the hostess halted and lets Chloe climb into the booth first. Glancing around with the casualness of someone already accustomed to the setting and unable to see its charm, he nods his head. “Yeah, it’s a nice place.”
“I want banana pudding,” Chloe informs us, her little brown eyes lit up with anticipation.
“For dessert,” Carter says. “As long as you finish your dinner.”
“But the pudding is the best! We should have dessert first, just in case we run out of room,” she informs him.
He shakes his head at her but doesn’t bother arguing. Instead
, he looks back at me and catches me checking him out.
Carter is still wearing jeans, but before he came to pick me up, he changed into a black button-down shirt, since he had the advantage of knowing where we were going. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows since it’s hot outside, and the pronounced veins in his strong, lean arms… well, they do things to me.
My cheeks warm up since I’m caught, but I don’t back down when he smirks at me. Instead, I shrug. “What? You’re gorgeous. This isn’t news.”
He smiles and leans back a step, wrapping his arm around me and drawing me against him so he can give me a kiss.
“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in.”
I break away and turn, startled, at the sound of a woman’s voice. A stunning woman with dark hair and classic red lips stands there smiling as she looks from Carter to Chloe. Chloe climbs back down and runs the short distance to throw her arms around the woman.
“Hi, Caroline,” Chloe greets, squeezing her.
“Hey, baby,” the woman offers back, reaching a hand down and rubbing Chloe’s back.
“Carter said I can have pudding,” Chloe informs her.
“For dessert,” Carter reminds her.
“And he said we could have dessert first,” Chloe adds, optimistically.
“That’s not true,” Carter states.
Caroline grins. “She gets that from you, you know. You can’t even be mad about it.”
Given my earlier line of thoughts, I want to jump on that and pry, but before I can, Carter intervenes, telling Chloe to sit back down. Then he rests his hand on my hip and tells his sister, “Caroline, this is my lovely girlfriend, Zoey.”
“Girlfriend?” she asks with interest, looking me over before extending her hand. “Well, how about that? It’s nice to meet you, Zoey. You must have jumped through some high hoops to lock my little brother down. He’s a handful, this one,” she adds as she drops my hand, in case I didn’t already know.
“Oh, I know he is,” I assure her. “Don’t worry, I can handle him.”