Fate and Forever

by Sophie Jackson

  Kat smiled devilishly. “I want it. Come inside me, fill me up.”

  With a thunderous cry toward the heavens, Carter’s orgasm hit him like a battering ram, making his spine arch in release. He erupted hard as he thrust his hips, chanting her name, filling her just as she’d asked. Carter growled deep in his chest as a huge bolt of possessiveness shot up his backbone like a freight train, hot and unashamed. His hips slowed gradually until he had nothing more left to give.

  “Goddamn,” he huffed as he held himself above her. “Goddamn.”

  Kat giggled. “My, my, that was hot.”

  Carter opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He coughed a laugh and nodded instead. It was absolutely the hottest thing ever. Unable to hold himself up any longer, he pulled out of her body and landed at Kat’s side with a groan of contentment, dropping his arms heavily to his sides.

  “You okay?” Kat asked with a laugh.

  “Mm-hm,” he answered with closed eyes and a smile. “I’m—you’re just . . . sweet Jesus.”

  Kat pushed his shoulder playfully, then kissed him. “You’re welcome.”

  chapter four

  “Here you go, guys.”

  Riley grinned at the petite, dark-haired waitress who set down three plates of chicken in front of him, Max, and Carter.

  “Thank you, sweetness,” he said softly with a small wink as she placed a dish of pasta and veggies in the table’s center.

  The waitress, whose name badge declared her to be Zoe, smiled back, a lovely pink tingeing her cheeks. She adjusted her small apron, clearly flustered. “Anything else I can get you?”

  As Riley was accosted with images of a number of things she could help him with, Carter said dryly, “Maybe a bucket of cold water.” He rolled his eyes at Riley.

  Zoe laughed nervously.

  “No, thanks,” Max added. “We’ll let you know if there is.”

  Riley watched the waitress’s small hips sway as she headed back across the restaurant. When he couldn’t see her anymore he turned back to the table, noticing Max frowning at Carter sitting across from them. Dude had been about as cheerful as a whore in a convent all evening.

  “So, Carter,” Riley began, sprinkling a dash of salt onto his dinner. After the ninety-minute gym session they’d just finished, he was starved.

  “What?” Carter asked, his eyes on his plate.

  “You wanna talk about the thing that’s crawled up your ass and died, or are we supposed to guess?”

  “Fuck off,” Carter snarled, making Riley snort in amusement.

  He was fairly immune to Carter’s temper tantrums, as rare as they were these days, and loved nothing more than to wind him up further. He opened his mouth to unleash a sarcastic retort, but Max gave an imperceptible shake of his chin, halting it in its tracks.

  “You’ve been bitching and grumbling for a week, man,” Max said. “What the hell’s going on?”

  Bitching and grumbling? That was an understatement. Carter had done nothing but stomp around the auto body shop, barking and cursing the newbie mechanics up and down, throwing his weight around like he was looking for a fight. If Riley hadn’t known any better, he’d have thought their asses were back at Arthur Kill.

  “Come on, son,” Riley said with a mouth full of chicken. “Sharing is caring.”

  Carter’s cutlery clattered to the plate and he shoved it away, looking like he wanted to tear the place apart. But under the bravado and testosterone, there was a hint of something more serious.

  Carter sighed and crossed his arms defensively across his chest. “It’s Kat,” he said after a moment.

  Max and Riley shared a concerned look, but waited for Carter to continue. He’d never be bullied into shit, least of all offering details about his marriage.

  “She’s been weird for a couple of weeks.” Carter rubbed his hands across his newly buzzed head. “I’ve tried, you know, asking her if she needs anything or if she’s okay, which she says she is. She says she’s fine. Fine, fine, fine. Seriously, fine has become my least favorite word, and I’m just about ready to throw myself off the Brooklyn fuckin’ Bridge if I hear it one more time.”

  Riley wasn’t about to touch this one. It had been a long time since he’d cared enough about a woman to worry about what was wrong with her, not to mention give advice about it. He cleared his throat, glancing at Max, giving him the floor.

  “What do you mean, ‘weird’?” Max asked.

  Carter lifted a shoulder. “Just . . . I don’t know. Off.” He grimaced as though that word didn’t really explain it. “She’s quiet, too quiet, and I feel like she’s avoiding me. I go to touch her and she almost pushes me away. I mean, we haven’t even . . .” He stopped, as if he’d said too much, and finished, “I mean, that’s not us. At all.”

  “Married life, man,” Riley said, twirling his pasta around his fork. “It’s all downhill from here.”

  “Shut up,” Max replied, despite his small smile. He turned back to Carter. “And you’ve tried the usual: flowers, chocolates—”

  “Bubble baths,” Riley interjected. “All-over massage.”

  “Yes,” Carter answered, sounding exasperated. “We’ve gone out, we’ve watched movies, but . . .” For a split second the frustration and annoyance withered, leaving Carter looking truly upset. “I feel like she’s hiding something from me,” he said quietly.

  Riley put his fork down and gave his friend his full attention. “Man, I’m sure everything’s okay,” he offered. “That doesn’t sound like the Miss L I know.”

  “Mrs. C,” Carter reminded him, the side of his mouth pulling into a whisper of a smile.

  Riley nodded. “Talk to her.” He lifted a hand when Carter began to protest. “I mean, really talk to her. Try explaining how ya feel. If you can do it with us, you sure as shit can do it with your wife.”

  Carter exhaled heavily. “I guess.”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing,” Riley said confidently. His tone turned playful. “Besides, she needs to get her shit together quick.”

  Carter frowned in question.

  Riley opened his arms wide. “It’s only a couple of weeks until Halloween, man!” He pointed at Carter, voice mock serious. “You tell her from me, I’m expecting a sexy teacher outfit complete with Mary Janes and black-framed glasses.”

  Carter chuckled despite himself. “Got it.”

  “Good.” Riley nodded before glancing across the restaurant. “Now, where the hell did that waitress go?”

  The apartment was empty when Carter entered a few hours later. He was kind of relieved; he was too tense to deal with having Kat pretend she wasn’t avoiding him tonight. Dropping his gym bag, he went toward the kitchen. He was still cranky from his talk with Riley and Max, and in desperate need of a beer. He hated drinking in front of Max, knowing the fight he put up every day, so he’d refrained from having one at the restaurant. It was the least he could do.

  He popped the cap of a Heineken, took an enormous gulp, and wandered through the apartment toward the bedroom. As he entered, he heard the faint sound of splashing coming from their bathroom. He took a deep breath and gave a gentle knock before opening the door to the warm scent of peaches and vanilla.

  Kat looked at him over her shoulder from the bath, surrounded by candles, and gave him a small smile. “Hey.”

  Carter leaned against the doorjamb, taking her in, her cheeks flushed from the heat of the water, hair damp, beautiful green eyes glowing in the candlelight, and felt a twist of something that felt suspiciously like loneliness in his chest. He realized, suddenly, that he missed his wife. “Hey.”

  “You okay?”

  He exhaled a humorless laugh and looked toward where her small feet rested between the faucets. “Sure. You?”

  She nodded. “I’m fine.”

  Carter ground his teeth and quickly sipp
ed his beer so he wouldn’t say anything angry. This was ridiculous. She was the one person he’d always felt he could say anything to, share anything with. So her distance hurt. It hurt and it was scary. She was his other half, for crying out loud, and if she wasn’t happy then he wasn’t happy—and right now, he really wasn’t.

  Resolute, he walked inside and sat on the toilet seat. In the bath, she had no escape. She couldn’t brush him off or walk away, as she’d been doing over the past couple of weeks. He glanced down at the bottle in his hand and began picking at the corner of the label.

  “How was the gym?” she asked. “The guys okay?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. Riley has some interesting ideas about what you should wear to the Halloween party.”

  She laughed softly. “I bet—”

  “We need to talk,” he muttered quickly toward his feet.

  The sound of water lapping against the tub brought his head up. Kat now sat up, her breasts wet and splattered with suds. “What’s wrong?”

  “I wanted to ask you the same question,” he retorted, his words clipped.

  She didn’t look surprised—more accepting, as if she’d been waiting for the upcoming conversation, whatever the hell it was going to be, which made Carter’s temper unravel further.

  “What’s going on, Kat? You’ve been acting weird for weeks, and . . . I thought we could tell each other anything.” He shook his head. “I mean, what is it? Is it something I’ve done? Has something happened I don’t know about? I . . .”

  He stopped, unable to articulate the panic that was starting to smother him. He didn’t want to admit that he thought he was losing her—but that’s what it felt like. Like there was something growing between them, pushing them apart. But how could that be? They loved one another so much. Didn’t they?

  Kat didn’t reply. She placed her hands on the sides of the tub and stood carefully, lifting her leg over the lip to step on the bath mat. He watched her wet body move as she reached for a towel off the radiator and wrapped it under her armpits. “You’re right,” she said, seeming resigned. “We do need to talk.”

  She held out her hand and Carter took it without thought, following her into the bedroom, where she sat on the edge of the bed. He set his beer bottle on the side table and sat at her side. The deafening silence pressed on him like a lead weight. He watched her carefully as she tried to say whatever it was that she was keeping from him. She fisted her hands in her lap, pressing her lips together, altogether uncharacteristic of the vibrant, brassy woman he knew.

  “Peaches,” he whispered, “what is it? You’re scaring the shit out of me.”

  Her laugh wasn’t a happy sound. It was forced, hurt, and quickly turned into a sob. She cupped a hand to her mouth as Carter wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close and kissing her temple. “Baby, talk to me, please. Christ.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she whimpered. “So sorry.”

  Fear fired through him. Was she sick? Had someone hurt her? Jesus, he’d kill anyone that tried. He kissed her hair. “Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it. I promise, whatever you need—”

  “I think I’m pregnant.”

  For a split second, Carter thought he’d heard her wrong. He dismissed the cold terror that surged through his veins and the squeeze around his lungs that made it hard to breathe. Then the echo of her words started to filter through, seeping deep inside him. His grip on her intensified as his heart pounded, and his dinner rose from his stomach. He swallowed it down, his entire body stilling. “What?”

  “I’m sorry,” she repeated into her hand. “I don’t even . . .” She wiped at her face. “I’m two weeks late. I don’t know how— I mean, Abby said maybe the food poisoning messed up my Pill, but . . .”

  Not really taking in anything she was saying, Carter dropped his hand from her shoulder, trying his best to ignore his overwhelming urge to demand what the fuck was going on and how the hell she could be pregnant. She looked up at him as he shifted away from her, the tears turning her green eyes to emeralds.

  He gritted his teeth and breathed through his nose. She was clearly upset, but a small, dark part of him couldn’t help but wonder if she’d gotten pregnant on purpose. He hated himself for even thinking that, yet the bloom of distrust grew.

  “You’re on the Pill,” he managed, pressing his hands to the blanket he was sitting on. “How does—did you forget to take it?”

  She scowled. “No, of course not. I take it at the same time every—”

  “Then how?” When she flinched, he realized how cold his voice had been. He stood abruptly, one hand covering his mouth. “I don’t understand, Kat.” He paced, his face heating. “You said we’d talk about—you promised me we’d talk about making a decision like this before . . .”

  “I know I did,” she said, sounding confused. “This was an accident; I— Wait.” Her eyes narrowed. “You can’t think I did this on purpose.”

  He threw her a look that told her he thought exactly that, despite the shame that skittered across his back.

  “Oh my God,” she murmured in disbelief. “You asshole!” She stood, storming toward the chest of drawers, which rattled as she pulled them open, yanking out a pair of sweatpants and a tank top.

  “Well, what am I supposed to think?” he argued, taking a step after her. “We get married, have one teeny conversation about kids and how much you want them, and then wham, you’re knocked up. A little too much of a fuckin’ coincidence, in my book.”

  Kat said carefully, “I think you need to stop talking before you say something you can’t take back.” Her nostrils flared as she dressed; then she pulled back her wet hair and fastened it with a clip.

  “Stop talking? We haven’t talked in weeks, while you kept this from me!”

  “Kept this from you?” Her glare blistered his face. “Are you seriously listening to the bullshit coming out of your mouth? Do you know how scared I’ve been to tell you this, after what you said in Greece? I’ve been praying for my period, hoping that we wouldn’t have to have this conversation!”

  “And yet here we are,” Carter thundered. “You should have fuckin’ said something.”

  “Why?” she asked, her voice now dangerously soft. “So I could hear you say exactly what I was terrified of?”

  Fury, fear, and confusion rushed through him. His head pounded and his heart ached. He pressed the tips of his fingers to his temples, desperately trying to ease the carnival inside. “I don’t believe this.”

  “Me, neither.” Devastation radiated from her and struck him straight in the gut, triggering his impulse to protect, and he instinctively took a step toward her. She stepped backward, holding her hand up. “Don’t. Just . . . don’t.”

  Carter huffed a breath, hurt and frustration bubbling, his tongue tied in knots. “Fuck,” he growled, then strode out of the bedroom and across the apartment, grabbing his keys and bike helmet. He needed to regroup, to think about what he wanted to say, to sort out the tumult of emotions and calm the fuck down. He was no good to anyone right now, least of all his wife. He didn’t know what to do; he didn’t even know what he could say without sounding like an asshole on some level.

  “Where are you going?” Kat called, following him.

  “I need to get out of here.”

  “You’re just going to leave?” Her desperate whisper sounded like it should have been screamed.

  Carter paused with his hand on the doorknob and sighed, his shoulders dropping under the weight of the information she’d just shared, and the pain in her voice. Pregnant. Fuck. He just couldn’t turn and look at her. He couldn’t see the hurt in her eyes again and pretend to be happy. He wasn’t happy. He was petrified.

  “I need a minute,” he offered, opening the apartment door and slamming it behind him.

  chapter five

  Riley was lounging on his sofa watching TV when a knock c
ame on his door. He ignored it. He was exhausted from the gym, comfortable after his shower, and he had six episodes of season four of Sons of Anarchy to catch up on. Max had lent him the box set and Riley was obsessed.

  The second, third, and fourth knocks came quickly and harder, rousing Riley from the couch with a curse. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” He opened the door and paused, leaning his forearm on the door’s edge. “Jesus, man, you look like hammered shit.”

  Carter just nodded dejectedly and slunk into Riley’s apartment.

  “You want a beer?” Riley asked, watching his friend drop onto the sofa.

  “Please.”

  With beers in hand and the TV on mute, Riley settled himself on the opposite chair. It had been a long time since he’d seen Carter look like this. “So I take it the talk didn’t go too well,” he surmised.

  Carter snorted and rubbed the back of his hand against his forehead. “Not exactly.” He dropped his head back, looking at the ceiling. “She’s pregnant.”

  Riley froze, his beer halfway to his mouth. As awesome as he considered that news to be, it was clear that Carter didn’t feel the same. He hmmmed and shifted on his seat, unable to think of anything smart to say.

  Carter glanced over. “Yeah, I know,” he muttered, sitting forward, dropping his hands between his knees.

  “You’re not happy about this,” Riley stated, just to be sure.

  “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” Carter exploded. “What the fuck do I know about kids? Huh? I mean, me, a father? It’s fuckin’ laughable.” He moved to the edge of the couch, as though he intended to leap off it at any moment. “How am I a good role model?” He lifted a finger as though counting the reasons his being a father would be disastrous. “How could I set rules for a kid when all I did was break them? And let me tell you, any child of mine would. It’d be born in him to be an asshole. He wouldn’t be able to help it.”

  Riley pursed his lips. “So it’s a boy?”

  Carter’s face scrunched in perplexity. “What?”