by Celeste, B.
Taking a deep breath, I count to five. “I don’t think you have any say. It’s not your life that could be ruined. It’s mine.”
She’s quiet, too quiet, and it doesn’t take long for hurt to spread in her eyes. I feel bad, but it’s the truth. Her life hasn’t been flipped upside down like mine has. Jenna has no idea what it’s like to be in my position.
“I have Ainsley to think about,” I add, turning away from her and scrubbing one of the plates in the sink. “It’d be selfish to even think about getting involved with somebody like him.”
“Because of her or you?” The counter question throws me off, but I don’t falter from moving onto the next dirty plate. “I mean it, Piper. You’re the queen of excuses. I understand why you’re hesitant, but you’re not a reckless person. It isn’t like I’m telling you to have sex with the guy in the classroom in front of everybody. Hell, ignore each other. You already went out on one date with him. And don’t tell me otherwise. He paid even though you could have used the gift card. That’s a date.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It was.”
“Jen—”
“What are you so worried about?” she demands firmly. “I love you, but you honestly annoy me sometimes. The guy you admittingly crushed on for years finally gives you a second look. He took you out. He paid for your meal. He’s helping you finish your master’s. I may not know the guy as well as I know Easton—” I want to tell her she doesn’t know East, but I’m not even sure I really do. “—but he sounds like a good man. Definitely somebody you should give a chance to. See where it goes.”
My heart squeezes a little over the thought of my absent roommate. Jenna heard through the grapevine that he’s supposed to be back tomorrow night. I don’t know when, I didn’t ask. I tell myself it’s none of my business regardless of our living arrangements.
“What’s really stopping you?” she finally asks quietly, her hand brushing my arm as she walks over to face me.
When I meet her eyes, I bite down on my bottom lip and fight off the onslaught of tears that well there and blur her image. “Everything.”
She hugs me. “It’ll be okay, Piper.”
I want to believe that.
But do I?
I’m not sure how she does it, but Jenna gets me to agree to watch Ainsley for the night so I can grade papers with Carter in his office. No dinner, no outings, just work. At least, that’s what I tell myself. But when I arrive at his office at the agreed upon time in the late afternoon, the smell of Chinese food wafting from the opened door has my eyes narrowing and stomach growling.
Knocking on the doorjamb, he looks up from the computer and smiles at me. Sitting on the corner of his desk is a bag with a well-known Chinese restaurant logo on the front. I’ve seen the delivery vehicles coming and going when I walk to my car. “You ordered food?”
Dropping my bag beside the usual chair I occupy I study the various boxes and containers piled inside the delivery bag.
He gives me a small smile and rolls back in his chair, standing to reach for the bag. “I skipped lunch earlier because I had to head home for a tiny emergency. Figured I’d order some food for us while we work.” His brows go up as he pulls one of the containers out, lips twitching upward as he passes me it. “You still obsessed with sweet and sour chicken?”
Cheeks blossoming with heat, I accept the container full of my favorite Chinese entree and plop down into the seat. Memories of begging Jesse and Carter to take me with them to the Chinese restaurant in the town over from where we lived buzzes to the front of my mind. “Why do I feel like I’ll never live those moments down with you guys?”
His low chuckle makes me shake my head as he places all the takeout containers on his desk before sitting back down. “Jesse was adamant on not letting you come every time you asked, but you were insistent otherwise.”
“Jesse never wanted me around,” I grumble, popping open the food and searching for a utensil to use. “Like I said before, I get it. You guys are older than I am and it probably wouldn’t have been fun to have me along wherever you two went.”
He passes me chopsticks and a plastic fork, giving me a knowing look. “I never figured out how to use those, but I know you did. And if it makes you feel better, I was always cool with you tagging along. Jesse just had a lot going on back then.”
I rip open the chopstick wrapper. “I know he did.” Between his mother and sister, I just wanted to be there for him. “That’s why I wanted to be around. To look after him. Show I cared.”
Cared. Care. Same difference.
He watches me for a moment. “He knows you do. We actually spoke the other day. I mentioned you were doing your student teaching with me. He asked how you were.”
I snort, picking up a piece of chicken. “I bet you told him I’m riding on rainbows and unicorns over here. That I’m your favorite student-slash-assistant. Am I right?”
Amusement lightens his features. “You know, I must have forgotten to enlighten him on the rainbows and unicorns thing, but he knows you’re doing well. He’s proud.”
Refraining from rolling my eyes over that, I pop some chicken into my mouth and chew slowly while he digs into his own food. He leans back in his chair, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and cocks his head at me.
I squirm. “What?”
His lips rub together. “Nothing.”
“You’re thinking something. What?”
He rests the box of some sort of noodles down on his lap. “You’re different. A good different.”
Putting my container down on his desk, I grab a napkin and wipe my lips off. “I’d hope so. I was, what? Sixteen, seventeen the last time we saw each other? People do tend to change in that time period. Ten years, in fact.” He just hums out in agreement and proceeds to pick up his food and eat again. “Is everything okay? You said you went home because of an emergency.”
He nods, catching a fallen piece of food before it hits his lap and draws it back into his mouth with his finger. For some reason, I’m transfixed by the movement and have to force my gaze away before he sees me staring. “Yeah. Cap got out.”
My brows pinch. “Cap?”
“My dog.”
I perk up. “I didn’t know you had a dog! What kind it is? Is it a boy or a girl?”
“I forgot how much you love dogs,” he muses, reaching forward and grabbing a napkin for himself. “He’s a Great Dane who loves to escape. My neighbors always call me when they see him lingering in people’s yards. Thankfully, he doesn’t wander into traffic. The big brute is terrified of vehicles.”
“For the better,” I agree. I try picturing him with a Dane and smile to myself. “It seems like the perfect dog for you. Why Cap?”
I notice the faintest pinkening of his cheeks, which makes me very inclined in hearing his answer. “I named him after Captain America. It was either that or Steve, and frankly, I thought Cap worked better.”
A humorous smile spreads across my face as I study him. “Agreed. Though Jesse named a dog Bruce once after Batman, so…”
We both laugh.
“Do you have a picture?” I fidget in my chair to get comfortable as he reaches for his phone and swipes the screen a few times. When he turns it to face me, an even bigger smile stretches my lips when I see the white and black speckled dog standing next to him. “That’s such a huge ass dog. He’s cute though.”
He clicks his phone screen off and sets it back down. “He’s a good boy. Besides the occasional escape routine. I think he gets antsy being alone in the daytime. Elizabeth used to—”
When he cuts himself off, I tilt my head wondering why. He clicks his tongue and stares at his food for a moment. “Elizabeth would stay at home with him as a puppy. I think he got used to it and has some form of separation anxiety.”
It’s none of my business. “Do you miss her sometimes? My mom mentioned her before in passing. You guys were engaged. Even if you separated amicably there’s got to be some feelings sti
ll.”
Without hesitation, he responds, “Of course. I was going to marry her. Spend forever with her. Even if we did, I wouldn’t have been miserable. We were happy for the most part. Content.”
I frown at that. “Love should be more than contentment though.”
“Exactly.”
Itching for more information, I dig despite my conscience telling me not to. “What made you realize contentment wasn’t enough? I know from personal experience that it’s hard to figure out what feelings are real or not.”
He gives me a thoughtful look before setting his food down in front of him and leaning back with his hands on his stomach. “It’s not so much about what feelings are real or not. There isn’t such thing as fake feelings. For me, it was more about being aware of her feelings in order to better understand mine. If it was the forever kind of love, we wouldn’t have been searching for something else.”
I cross my legs under me in the chair, interest bubbling inside me. “What were you looking for?”
For a long moment, he doesn’t answer. Instead, he stares off like he’s lost in thought. When the tip of his tongue swipes across his bottom lip, I track the movement with my eyes. He looks then, catching me staring at his mouth. My face heats with embarrassment.
His eyes narrow slightly, thoughtfully. “I wasn’t sure then, but I think I am now.”
My brows furrow down.
He picks up his food. “I’m looking for something that’s easy. No forced conversations or hurt feelings when I poke fun. I want to talk about work and life and old memories. What I want is this.”
I’m taken aback by his answer, staring at him with a new kind of feeling in my heart. It doesn’t squeeze with hurt this time, but pumps with anticipation and nervousness. “Carter…”
He gestures toward my food. “Eat before it gets cold. There’s more here. Rice, vegetables, dumplings. You still like those too, right?”
My lips open, but nothing comes out.
What is happening right now?
“Can I ask you something?” He asks the question with such casualness that I almost forget what he’d just said.
“Uh … sure.”
“It was Danny,” he murmurs, “right? The person you struggled figuring out if you had real feelings for or not.”
My shoulders tighten as I sit back, picking at my food again to stall. “There was never a doubt I had feelings for him. It was him who didn’t have the same kind for me. That’s what always confused me. How could one person fall hopelessly in love with somebody else who doesn’t feel the same? That means everything I believe in is a lie.”
He pauses. “What do you believe in?”
“That true love only exists once,” I whisper in return, not meeting his eyes. I sit in the chair, staring at my food, no longer hungry despite the way my stomach tells me to fill it with every strong scent of greasy food that I breathe in from the selection around me. “That heartbreak can’t hurt me more than once. That things happen for a reason.”
I hear his chair move from his weight leaning forward and feel the burn of his inquisitive eyes roving over my face. “And you don’t believe those things anymore?” His tone is gravelly, low, weaved with interest that my heart pounds harder over.
Wetting my dry lips, I look up. “If any of that were true, I never would have watched Daniel McCray get married to another woman, have a beautiful baby girl, and pass away.”
His throat bobs, but he’s silent.
“So, yeah. Everything I knew was a lie.”
“Piper…”
I shrug, forcing a smile that’s no longer foreign on my face. It’s tight, uncomfortable, but resembling some mask that indicates I’m okay. The way Carter looks at me, studies me with narrowed brown eyes, tells me he knows I’m not.
“There’s more than one person out there for us,” he states with a tip of his head. Settling back in his seat, he smiles in a way that seems genuine, not fake. “There’s somebody for us in every situation, people we need in the moment.”
The more those words soak in, the more hope I have in believing he’s right. Maybe one day I can even claim them to be true. One day I can say I’ve experienced three kinds of love; the one I lost, the one I found, and the one I reconnected with.
I think about Danny.
About Easton.
…and I stare at Carter.
“Is there something going on here?” I ask in an audible tone, observing the food and the conversation that comes a little too easily.
“The truth?”
I nod, listening to my heart pumping to a new beat that doesn’t hurt but keeps me hyperaware of the way his body shifts toward mine. His chair squeaks, his head tilts, and his eyes darken. I take in every part of him.
He says five words.
Five words that change everything.
“I’d like there to be.”
In that moment, I hold my breath.
I let goosebumps pimple my arms.
I let the hurt that’s simmered for so long inside of me loose into the wild so it can’t be contained in the organ drumming within my chest. Instead, I repeat his words in my head.
I’d like there to be.
Those words make all the difference.
Chapter Twenty
The evening spent with Carter ended in a full stomach and permanent smile on my face. Our conversation turned into reminiscing in between paper grading. Jokes were made, we teased each other about the stuff we did growing up, and he chuckled every time my cheeks would turn red when I remembered something embarrassing that I did to try getting his attention.
Jenna was disappointed when I came home at a decent time without so much as a peck on the lips to tell her about even though I told her nothing like that would happen. When we finished grading the assignments, Carter asked if I wanted any leftovers, mentioned grabbing dinner again sometime soon, and smiled before saying goodbye. Nothing was uncomfortable, and the smile on my face, the one still wavering there, is the only reason Jenna didn’t push me.
I’m sitting on the living room floor with Ainsley playing tea party when she begins signing to me about the fake food in front of us. Our next course began yesterday, and I know the next stage will improve our communication in ways I only dreamed about. She’s open to talking this way, and it thaws the worry coating my heart all this time.
We’re in the middle of having fake tea and cookies when the front door opens for the first time in too long. Both Ainsley and I look at it as Easton makes his way in, his eyes immediately finding ours where we’re perched around the coffee table. His gaze drifts to the food and plate set, the very ones he bought her for Christmas, before he tips his head.
It’s nearing March, but the cold weather hasn’t broken. Cold air drifts in behind him as he shuts and locks the door, the chill pebbling my arms with goosebumps. “Welcome back,” I tell him quietly.
His grip on the strap of his black backpack hanging from his shoulder loosens, then tightens as he examines the living room. Toys are scattered everywhere from Ainsley’s playtime antics and a partial blanket fort is constructed next to the couch. I tried making one like he did the day he watched her, but when Ainsley and I stepped back to examine the horrible job I did, she yanked on my shirt and signed, He did it better.
“Piper. Dudette.”
Once again, a smile forms on Ainsley’s face over their special nickname. Every time I see the sliver of white from her happy smile, it tugs on my heartstrings. “How was the convention?” He stops moving toward the stairs to look at me, not saying a word. I clear my throat. “Jenna saw the sign on the shop door.”
His chin dips. “It was good.”
Rubbing my lips together, I manage a nod before pushing myself up. “Mind if we talk for a minute? I’m sure you’re busy, but…” Letting my words fade, I gnaw on the inside of my cheek while he contemplates his answer. When he finally bobs his head, I sign to Ainsley that I’ll be right back and follow him upstairs.
When he opens his bedroom door and walks in without looking back at me, I hesitate. It feels weird entering his domain when he’s always come into mine. I stop at the door, glancing around the beige walls like the rest of the house is painted, noting very few personalized items littering the room. There aren’t any picture frames or trinkets or posters, just a shelf with some books on them, a nightstand that doesn’t match his bedframe with a light on it, and a dresser with a half-dead plant on top with some folded clothes next to it.
His bedding is dark, his curtain light, and nothing about what I see is … Easton. Then again, what do I know about him? He’s quiet, cautious, and good in bed. He gets along with kids, or at least Ainsley, and would give you the shirt off his back. His love for art design made him thrive as a tattoo artist, and his best friend and co-owner is the only other person he seems to talk to besides me.
“What’d you want to talk about?” he grumbles, setting his bag down on his bed and finally turning to me.
“Where’s all your stuff?” I blurt.
His brows go up. “What stuff?”
I hesitate, regretting even asking when I hear the irritation in his tone. “You don’t have any pictures.”
The curt reply comes quick. “Don’t have anyone worth remembering.” It pierces my heart as he turns back to his bag and takes out clothes and a few other items. “Is that all you wanted to talk about? I’ve got shit to do.”
My jaw ticks. “You don’t have to be a dickhead, Easton. Not that you care, but I was worried when you didn’t come home.”
His back straightens, shoulders pulling back as he abruptly faces me. “Why would you care?”
I blink. “Because I … do.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I add, “I don’t know if that’s a foreign thing to you, but you do have people who give a shit. You could have texted me saying you were going away for a while that way I didn’t think anything bad happened.”
“Stop,” he grinds out.
My eyes widen. “Stop what?”
“I don’t have to report to you, Piper.”
Lips parting, I find words lacking in response to him. I know he doesn’t have to report to me. I’ve reminded myself of that multiple times. But doesn’t he see that I care? That we’re friends? “I know that. I just—”