“God, I’ve missed you.” I let out all the air in my lungs, holding her close, molding my form to hers.
Her hands run up and down my back in a loving caress. “I missed you more.”
I smile and nibble on the smooth skin of her shoulder and neck. It’s not the usual side I go for, but I’m trying to connect with the side of her she’s comfortable with. When I get too close to the scars, she freezes up, and I don’t want that for her or me. Right now, having her freeze up on me would destroy me. As it is, a week has been too long after what happened between us last Friday.
Kat runs her hands up my back once more until she tunnels her fingers through my hair, scraping her nails lightly against my scalp. She pulls far enough back she can make eye contact. “What’s the matter, Carson? This isn’t like you.”
Without meaning to, the smart-ass remark flies out of my mouth unchecked. “And how would you know? It’s been years, Kat.”
Her entire body stiffens briefly, but she holds on. She doesn’t let go, push back, or run away. Now that is a first and entirely unlike her.
She closes her eyes and sighs. “I guess I deserved that.”
Hating I’ve hurt her—again—and knowing I’m about to hurt her more has put me on edge. “No, baby. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. There’s just a lot going on. Things have happened in the years we’ve been apart. Some of those things are not going to be easy to talk about.”
Finally, I push back and move away from her first. I turn around and see the table already set, candles lit, fresh flowers adorning the table. A bottle of wine and glasses are already set out, the wine uncorked and breathing.
“Shit.” I shake my head. “You’ve made a romantic dinner for two, and I was being a selfish asshole.” I grind my teeth and fist my hands at my sides. I don’t know how to start this conversation, and it’s eating me alive. Nevertheless, she’s still my Kathleen, and she’s gone to a lot of trouble to make me a meal. “Let’s sit and eat what you’ve cooked up.”
A soft smile lifts the bit of sadness weighing down the initial joy I’d seen in her face when I arrived. “I made your favorite. Lasagna.” She walks over to the table and pulls out a chair at the head. “Sit.”
I sniff the air and am assaulted by the mix of oregano, basil, fresh sauce, and garlic. My mouth waters and my belly rumbles. “Damn, it smells so good in here. Almost as good as you.” I wink.
She chuckles and her cheeks redden as she flits to the kitchen. The apartment has a roomy, open-layout feel to it. Her cabinets are bright white with glass insets and backlighting to show her dishes. The countertops are a cool gray with specks of gold, black, and glittery-looking rocks running through them. Top of the line for sure. Of course, I wouldn’t expect anything less in one of my cousin’s buildings.
I look around at her apartment—really look—not like last time, when I had her up against the door and then in bed, before I had to jet off in the morning. I realize how little this place suits her. Sure, she has it filled to the brim with knickknacks, framed photos, original art, comfy pillows in various earthy tones, but it lacks something I was once used to seeing. Against one corner, she has a desk full of loose drawings, fabric swatches, and books on various designers and fashion trends. That’s pretty standard. Another area has a large dark-purple couch, a replacement for the beat-up one she used to have when we dated. Actually, a lot of what she had when we were together is missing from the room, including from her bedroom, now that I think about it. When I was lying with her, nothing in the room around us felt the same as it did in the past.
Then it dawns on me. She’d gotten rid of almost everything she had in her apartment from before. The art hanging on the walls is different, the furniture, the pictures scattered around the room don’t contain any of us together. The photos are all of her soul sisters and their children. Even trinkets, things I’d given her during our year together, were missing in action. It was the strangest thing. As I surveyed the room, looking for a scrap of the woman I fell in love with three years ago, I couldn’t find her. It’s as if she didn’t even live here. Like she up and left. Walked out.
That’s when it hit me like a punch to the heart. She’d removed anything remotely related to me and who we were together.
And I thought her kicking me out that night three years ago hurt. But this… Finding out she willingly, painstakingly removed every trace of what we had together, of me, from her life… Gutted. There’s nothing else to describe the moment when a man realizes the woman he loved, still loves, has moved on so completely there isn’t a trace left. And now I’ve opened a small window back into her heart and her life, and I’m going to break her all over again. She’ll go right back to living without me, without us. She’s done it for three years. What’s to say she can’t or won’t do it again? And it’ll be even easier this time since we only have one night to go on.
Fuck.
I can’t tell her about Cora and Misty. Not yet. I need more time. More time to get her to fall completely and utterly in love with me again, or I’ll lose her forever. A person only gets a second chance once. This is mine, and I’m not going to ruin it before I’ve even had a real shot. No way.
Kat comes back into the room with big red mitts on and a glass casserole tray that smells like virtue and sin mixed together with noodles and cheese.
She sets the dish down, removes the mitts, and pours the wine. Her left hand is a bit shaky, but for all intents and purposes, she’s adjusted well to not having full use of her right hand, her more dominant hand.
“Thank you.”
She sits and lifts her glass. “So, what should we toast to?” Her pretty brown eyes are swirling with excitement and a hint of mischief.
“There’s nothing more important than us.” And an eighteen-month-old toddler with my blue eyes and a penchant for destroying order at every possible opportunity. Kind of like what could happen if my secret comes out too soon. I keep that last part to myself and clink glasses.
We both take a sip, and Kat hums. It reminds me of how Cora makes “mmm” and “oohh” sounds while she eats, as if every meal is a surprise.
Kat dishes out the lasagna and salad, and I dig in, not sure how to go about winning her back and keeping her in my life in such a way the devastating hit of my family-man status won’t hurt so bad.
“So, tell me what you’ve been dealing with this past week that’s kept you from being with me?”
The question hits like a hammer, so hard a chunk of lasagna slides down the wrong pipe, making me gag and choke. I suck down a huge swallow of wine, which burns like acid against the tender tissue. Serves me right for lying.
Instead of admitting the whole truth and hoping she can understand, I stick to my guns and discreetly change the subject by grabbing her right hand—the scarred one I know she doesn’t prefer to have touched—and run my fingers along the top.
“How’s about you tell me what you’ve been up to the past two years. Let’s start at the beginning and work our way up to the present.” Please God, let her buy it. A pang of guilt pierces my heart, and I rub at my chest with the hand not holding hers.
She watches the move, her shrewd mind probably picking up that I’ve changed the subject. Just when I think she’s going to nail me on it, she surprises me.
“Well, after things ended with us…”
“You mean after you ended it,” I spit out, that wound still open at the top of my subconscious. I wince. “I’m sorry, Sweetcheeks…”
She shakes her head and pulls her hand away. “No, no. Once again, I deserve it. But if this has any chance of sticking long-term, Carson, you’re going to have to find a way to let go of what happened between us.” Her eyes seem to plead with me.
I nod. “I’ll try. For you. For us. Go ahead. Continue.”
Kat sips her wine and takes a bite of her lasagna. I do the same. The second bite of spicy Italian goodness hits my tongue, and I experience the taste. I’m ravenous, shoveling it in so fast I barely ch
ew before putting in another bite.
She chuckles and dishes me out another serving without even asking. I look up and smile, grateful she knows me so well. At least in this.
“As you know, I was in bad shape when things ended. I went down a shitty path. I didn’t want anyone’s help, and it ended up taking its toll. I’m not going to go into too much detail…”
Technically, she didn’t have to. Chase had been keeping me updated daily on what was going on with her. I knew about the night he found her passed out with the infection, the hospitalization when once again she had refused to see me. I even had a hand in helping Chase move her things to this apartment. Lot of good that did, since she didn’t seem to keep any of it. Something I definitely want to ask about.
“Basically, after so many treatments and going it alone, I got really depressed, pushed everyone away.”
I can’t stop my eyebrow from rising in question.
“Yes, it wasn’t just you. I didn’t talk much to the girls, refused to allow them to help me.”
“But you let Chase.” I forced the words through clenched teeth. It’s been a sore spot for me and my cousin, but I trusted him too much to think he’d ever be inappropriate with her. Not to mention Gillian would have his nuts. But it did burn like white-hot fire in my chest when I thought about all the times he’d rush off to help Kat during her time of need. I wanted to be the only one to help her through. She was my responsibility but I couldn’t be there, and it fucking killed me.
She twirls a lock of her hair and purses her lips. “Yeah, he was a godsend. That man pushed and pushed until I gave in. Now, I couldn’t imagine my life without his friendship. He’s been a confidant, someone who was a bit blind to my situation, unlike the girls. I didn’t want them to see me as weak. Still don’t.” She frowns.
I reach out and rub her arm. “They would never, could never, think that about you. The bond you four have is unbelievable. Something to cherish. I’m not sure why you would think they’d see you as anything but the strongest woman in the fucking world. Surviving a fire, the injury, Phillip’s explosion, the kidnapping, Tommy’s death.” I shake my head and bring my face closer to hers. “Honey, if you look up the word survivor in the dictionary, there is a snapshot of the four of you smiling. Seriously, I’ve never known stronger women. And you lead the charge.”
“Thank you. It means a lot you see us that way.” Her big brown eyes glisten with unshed tears until she sniffs and brushes her hair from her face with a soft smile, still holding eye contact.
“You, Sweetcheeks. I see you that way. No matter where I am, or where you are, I’ve only ever seen you.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
KATHLEEN
“Enough about me.” I wave my hand in the air, sit back, and cross my arms. “I know very little about what you’ve been up to.”
Carson wipes his mouth after finishing the second piece of lasagna, leans back, and rubs a hand over his face. He looks tired, ravaged by something he’s not yet sharing. It’s a hard pill to swallow that the man I’ve never stopped loving is holding on to something painful and not allowing me to relieve his burden. It’s like the ghost of our bond is knocking at the door and neither of us is capable of nor ready to open it.
“Uh, as far as work goes, I’ve been investing in some new endeavors. Green resources, which could affect the state of California by reducing our carbon footprint in ways we haven’t yet dreamed of.”
“Oh?” Environmental concerns were always something Carson and I had in common.
“Yeah, the company I’m working with is mimicking the Swedish garbage-disposal system. They have a process where they can burn the non-recyclable garbage and produce steam from the moisture content in the trash. That steam powers a turbine that creates usable energy. Best part, the smoke it emits is ninety-nine percent nontoxic. It’s really quite genius.”
“Seriously?” I lean my elbows on the table.
Carson nods. “Americans are the leader in energy waste worldwide. This system could decrease landfill waste by forty-eight percent in the first ten years.”
The provocative lilt of Carson’s voice and the passion he exudes when he speaks of a new project has an electrical buzz of energy humming low in my belly. I’ve always been in love with his keen mind as much his body, heart, and soul. “Wow. That’s incredible. And you’re funding it?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, I’ve invested heavily. So have Chase and my father. We’ve got to do something, and this plan could give our state—hell, our nation—a new plan for two major environmental problems. Waste management and energy creation.”
I run my finger around the lip of my glass, thinking about how this could also benefit his bottom line if he’s invested in the initial creation of this product or system. “And I’ll bet a lot of Fortune 500 companies need something stellar to invest in and put their green stamp on.” I smile, getting to the bonus of this genius plan he’s committing to.
The smile he returns breaks from ear-to-ear. “There is that.”
Carson leans back and rubs his thumb over his bottom lip. What I wouldn’t give to be that lip right now. Just sitting here is making my heart beat faster, desire pool low in my belly, and arousal wet my panties.
“You always were one smart cookie,” he says.
I smirk, trying to ward off this needy ache building in my system. Being this close and having knocked back a couple glasses of wine has only increased my desire for him.
“I’m just glad you and your family are finding new and inventive ways to make the environment a priority and effect real change.”
He lifts the remainder of his wine in the air. “Glad you approve, Sweetcheeks.”
We clink our glasses together and sip. Instantly I’m struck with how easy it is to talk like this. About anything. Aside from whatever he’s holding back, Carson has always been someone with whom I can discuss the complexities of my day, share in his investments, and both of us provide real, honest, well-thought-out opinions. It’s refreshing.
“I miss this,” Carson says abruptly.
I narrow my gaze. “What?”
“Just being with you. Having dinner. Ending my day with an insightful discussion. It’s nice. I haven’t had that in a long time.” He twirls the stem of the glass from left to right and back.
He takes another sip of wine, his expression thoughtful as he gazes over the rim and focuses his attention on me.
“It is nice. But why haven’t you had anyone to talk to? You can’t tell me you’ve been celibate all these years.” The space around my heart tightens with the thought he’s had other women while I have been celibate. It hurts, but it’s a part of our past I’m not able to change. The only important point is moving forward.
Carson sighs and adjusts his seat, moving closer, his hands now resting only a few inches from mine on the table. “No, I can’t say I have. But you’ve got to know those women were scratches for an itch. I haven’t had anything serious since you.”
The sincerity in his tone surprises me. It’s hard to believe this man—this handsome, honest-to-God supreme catch—didn’t find anyone to commit to in the last two years. He’s not the kind of man who hits it and quits it. At least he wasn’t when I started dating him. “Really? No one special?”
Without even blinking, he grabs my hand and runs a devilish thumb down the center of my palm. Sparks dance up my arm from my hand. I gasp and bite my lip to prevent the moan aching to get out.
“Kathleen…” Carson dips his head closer to mine so we’re close enough to breathe each other’s air. “What we have only happens once in a lifetime. It’s not something easily replaced. Not that I wanted to. Though it would have been easier to move on if I’d been able to get over you.”
I clench his hand tighter on instinct. “And did you?” My voice is but a whisper, and barely enough air leaves my lips to make sound. “Did you eventually get over me… Over us?” I swallow the dry, scratchy lump that has appeared in my throat.
; Carson abruptly stands up and tugs me against his chest. I slam into him, my breasts squashed against the powerful plate of his torso. Our hips are aligned, and I can feel him thickening, growing in the space between us. Without saying a word, he tunnels one hand into my hair, the other firmly cupping my ass and lifting me so I can truly feel every inch of his rock-hard length. It’s comforting to know he’s just as affected by me as I am him.
Then all thoughts are obliterated when his plush lips descend, and I’m gone. Lost to the hurricane of want swirling within me. He takes my mouth with his, and I taste the deep-red wine we had with dinner and a rich essence unique to Carson. I grip the back of his hair and pull him toward me, slanting my head and forcing him to take me deeper. More. Just more. His tongue is tireless, tasting me everywhere. I’m just as greedy, sucking and licking with equal fervor. When he pulls away in a burst of air, he delves his head into the curve where my neck and shoulder meet. He runs his tongue up the entire column. Chills rush over my skin, and I squeeze my legs together, moaning at the pleasure the simple act affords.
“I’ll never be over you, Kathleen. Not in a million years. Now it’s time I prove it.” He bites the tender skin of my neck.
I cry out, a mix of pleasure and pain I’ve missed for far too long.
In one swift movement, Carson has my legs up and around his waist. He takes the handful of steps needed to reach the couch and sits me on the back. I dig my heels into his ass, pushing his erection more firmly where I want it most.
Fate: A Trinity Novel: Book Five Page 12