I sigh. The flight back home isn’t going to be fun. My life back home isn’t going to be fun – not for a while, at least.
It takes me a second to realise that the pounding I hear isn’t coming from my head, but the door to my hotel room: someone is bashing their fist against it as hard as they can. Jesus Christ, I think. How eager are the housekeepers in New Orleans?
‘I’m coming, I’m coming,’ I say, reaching for the hotel bathrobe. It’s thick and luxurious against my skin, but somehow that’s the last thing I want right now. Not after a night with Jack. I want to be free, open – laid bare, as naked as I was the whole blissful night through. Hell, I think, do I really need clothes? Really? Perhaps I’ll just run off and join a nudist colony, and stay like this for—
‘Ella! Are you in there?’ It’s Lauren, her voice frantic. ‘Open up.’
That’s worrisome all by itself. Hell, it was the morning after her wedding; he should have been far too busy to go around knocking on hotel room doors without good reason – too busy, or at the very least exhausted. Hell, between Lauren’s post-wedding celebration and the night I’d had with Jack, I was surprised the foundations of the Hotel Belle View were still standing.
‘There,’ I say, pulling open the door. ‘What’s up?’
She darts her eyes from side to side, glancing up and down the corridor – very cloak and dagger. ‘Are you… you know?’ she asks.
‘What?’
‘Alone?’
I shake my head, and an easy smile slips onto my face. No, no I’m not, I think. You were right. I came to your wedding and I hooked up with a jazz singer and now I feel wonderful. You can start your I-told-you-so dance any time you like – or would you prefer to save it up until after the honeymoon?
With viper-quickness, she grabs hold of my wrist and pulls me out into the corridor. ‘What the hell, Lauren?’ I ask, but one look at her face tells me that something is very, very wrong.
‘I didn’t want him to just barge in on you,’ she says, keeping her voice so low that I can barely hear it even though she’s inches away from my face. ‘I didn’t know what had gone on with you and Jack last night, and…’
‘You didn’t want who to just barge in on me?’ I ask. ‘Who’s barging anywhere?’
She sighs. ‘Carter,’ she says. ‘Carter is here.’
Chapter Thirty
‘What?’
‘Carter. He’s here. In the lobby.’
‘Now?’
‘Yes, now.’
‘What the hell is he doing here?’
Lauren shrugs. ‘The hell should I know?’ she says. ‘He isn’t looking good, though. Like he hasn’t slept in days. Real rough.’
‘Did he say anything?’
‘Only that he was looking for you. He caught an early flight. Won’t speak to anyone except for you. He kicked up a hell of a fuss with the receptionist when she wouldn’t tell him which room you were in.’
Well, that’s something, I think. It wouldn’t have been a good look to have Carter barge into my suite and find me all wrapped up in the arms of another man. Even at his most mellow, I dread to think how that would have gone down – and based on the sounds of things, he’s not doing all that well.
But why now? Of all moments, why does he pick now to show up?
‘… right,’ I say. I can handle this. No big deal. It’s only Carter. Just… make a plan, that’s all. ‘Let me get changed. I’ll be right down.’
‘Hurry,’ she says. ‘I’ll try and stall him.’
‘You think that’ll work?’
‘I think I’ll last longer than the receptionist. I should at least be able to stop him finding out about… you know. This.’
About Jack. About my infidelity.
No. It wasn’t infidelity at all. How could anyone call it that? Carter was the one who had made it clear that we were broken up, that whatever we had was finished. We were done. There was no on-a-break bullshit, not the way he’d played it. So why the hell do I feel so guilty all of a sudden?
‘Thanks,’ I say.
‘Don’t mention it. Just be quick, OK?’
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
I head back inside the hotel room and close the door behind me. As it clicks shut, I press my forehead against it. The wood frame is cool, the pressure somehow helping to keep my thoughts in order. I can fix this, I think – but what would fixing this even look like?
Think.
I need a plan, that’s all. I can figure it out. I can get rid of Carter without him finding out about any of this, if I just–
‘So… who’s Carter?’
I spin around so fast that I’m in danger of drilling right through to the floor below. In the doorway to the bathroom, Jack is standing with a towel wrapped around his waist, his short-cropped hair still damp from the shower, water droplets still speckling his smooth, dark torso. In any other moment, I would have loved the sight of him like that – it looks for all the world like an invitation to begin one more glorious round of lovemaking – but now I have more pressing concerns.
‘Who?’ I ask weakly.
‘Come on, Ella,’ he says. ‘This hotel… the doors are paper thin. You and your friend weren’t as quiet as you think. Boyfriend, I guess?’ He pauses for a second, like the word and everything it might mean leaves a bitter taste on his tongue. ‘Husband?’
I hate that I might have caused that in him.
‘He’s my fiancé,’ I say. 'I mean, my ex-fiancé.’ Very, very much my ex-fiancé. Very far from my mind. Or he was, anyway.
‘I didn’t you know you were engaged,’ Jack says simply.
‘I… was. Past tense.’
‘Does he know that?’
I nod. ‘Yeah, he knows. He was the one who broke things off.’
‘I see,’ he says, in a voice that suggests he’s seeing a lot of things that aren’t really there. ‘And now he’s here.’
‘That’s what I’m told, yeah.’
‘Looking for you?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Well, it sounds like you two have a pretty important conversation coming,’ he says, pulling on his shirt and suit pants from the night before, despite his body still being a little damp. ‘I’ll take a rain check on that brunch, OK?’
I’ve never seen Jack this quiet, this subdued. Even after he saved me from the mugger in the alleyway outside the Coeur de Vie, when his whole body seemed hard as granite, he still had a playful spark in his eyes. Now he just looks… drained. Extinguished.
Hurt.
‘I get how this must look,’ I say as he finishes getting himself dressed. I wish I could say more, but… well, how am I supposed to explain it? How do I rationalise the fact that I didn’t tell him about Carter before? Never mind the fact that there was no Carter; that when he met me I felt – no, I was – truly alone in the world. How do I explain why I didn’t say anything?
‘Do you? Really?’
‘Yeah, I do. And I’m sorry for that. And I’m sorry I have to say that it’s not what it looks like, but… well, you know.’
‘It’s not what it looks like?’
‘Exactly.’ I pause, composing myself. Jack doesn’t take his eyes off me. For a moment I find myself wishing he’d storm off the way spurned lovers always do in the movies – at the very least, it would give me a few seconds’ reprieve, and a chance to figure out what the hell I’m supposed to say now – but he just stands there in front of me, half a room and half a universe away. Fuck it, I think. What’s the worst that could happen? A little honesty never hurt anyone, except for all the times it did.
‘Carter broke up with me,’ I say. ‘Recently. Very recently, in fact. The day before we were supposed to fly down for the wedding.’
‘This wedding?’
I nod. ‘Yeah. Sorry.’
‘So the other night, when you said you were just here to blow off a little steam… I was the steam?’
‘No. Not at all.’
‘That’s k
ind of tough to believe, Ella.’
‘I know. It’s just…’ How can I put it? How can I possibly make him understand everything that’s gone through my mind in the past couple of days? Hell, I’m not sure I understand it myself.
I take a deep breath. ‘I wasn’t happy with Carter,’ I say at last. ‘I just didn’t realise that until he was gone. But we had this plan, you know? Everything was supposed to fit into these neat little boxes, and as time went by I just sort of stopped questioning whether that was what I wanted. When you met me that first night at the Coeur de Vie, that’s who I was waiting on a call from. Not work. Carter.’
Jack runs a hand over his face. ‘So while I was hitting on you, you were sipping cosmos and praying your ex would take you back?’
‘Yeah. But that was wrong of me. Stupid, in fact. If Carter had called me then, I would have flown right back to fix things, wedding be damned – and what kind of a shitty friend does that make me? But that’s just it. It’s not Carter’s fault, I’m not saying that, but I’m not… me, when I’m with him. I’m not the version of myself that I want to be.’
‘And who do you want to be, Ella?’
I shrug. ‘It’s been five years, man. Maybe it’s too soon to tell just yet. But I know I need a change. A fresh start. I need to figure out who I really am first, and maybe then I can work out the kind of person I want to be. You know, to have something to work towards.’ The words come tumbling out of me, earnest and honest. I’ve never admitted that to anyone before. The idea of not having a plan is terrifying to me… but hearing it out loud, I know it’s the truth. I’m not OK as I am. I do need a fresh start.
And now, perhaps, is as good a time as any.
‘I’m sorry you got caught up in all of this,’ I say. ‘And I’m sorry if you feel like I misled you, or if I hurt you, or if I did anything to make you think that last night wasn’t something really incredible. This last few days have been…’ I pause. Too sappy? Well, in for a penny... ‘I don’t know how I would have made it through these last few days if you hadn’t been around,’ I say. ‘Truly.’
Jack stands tall, but his spines are down now; the bristliness and chill that followed him out of the bathroom has softened somewhat. ‘So you going to see your ex is…’
‘Is me telling him it’s over. For good. For both our sakes.’
‘You sure?’ he asks.
I wasn’t, not until the words are out of my mouth, but it’s the right thing to do. I had never known hurt the way Carter had hurt me with that phone call, with the desire to throw away our plans.
Our plans. My plans. Whatever.
I nod and lean up, giving Jack a soft kiss on the cheek. I can smell the lingering scent of the hotel shower gel on his skin. He smells familiar, now – comforting, close. ‘Yeah, I’m sure. So, so sure. I’ll be right back, OK?’
I can see him struggling with it for a moment, the idea turning over like a rip current beneath his smooth, placid exterior, but then he smiles. ‘OK,’ he says. ‘I’ll wait up here.’
Part of me wishes that he’d lean down and give me a kiss back for luck, but of course he doesn’t. It’s on me now. I’m the one who has to make the call.
Chapter Thirty-One
‘What the hell are you doing here, Carter?’
I get a slight, sadistic shiver of pleasure as I watch him wince; whatever he was expecting from our first meeting again, this wasn’t it. Perhaps he suspected I’d just fall onto my knees on the marble floor of the Hotel Belle View’s lobby and beg him, beg him to take me back. Perhaps if he’d done it two days ago, I would have… but there’s something different now. Now, there’s some vestigial part of me that wants to see him suffer, wants to put him through the same wringer I’ve been put through for the past couple of days. I shouldn’t, I know that. I should be the bigger person. But I’m not, so fuck it. Let him twist in the wind for a little while. He’s earned it.
He doesn’t say anything; he just stands there, face pointed down towards the floor of the lobby as he sits on one of the plush leather sofas, caught off guard like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. Carter’s shamefaced puppy dog act might even have worked on me, once upon a time – but that time has long since passed. You bastard, I think. It’s a new feeling, but a comfortable one. I’m not upset with him anymore. I’m not sad. I’m just angry, for the way he treated me and the audacity it takes to reappear and try to snatch a perfect moment away from me. Who cares if he knew that’s what he was doing? You complete bastard.
‘Could we go somewhere?’ he asks eventually.
‘Where?’
‘Anywhere. Just… you know. Somewhere else.’ Somewhere private, he means. Somewhere where it’s unlikely I’ll call him out on his bullshit.
‘I’m busy, Carter.’
‘With what?’
‘Wedding stuff. Which you’d know, if you’d bothered to turn up.’
‘I’m here now, aren’t I?’
I grit my teeth; it’s the only thing I can think of that might stop three days’ worth of bile from pouring out of me and drowning him right there. ‘Why? Why are you here?’
He pats the seat next to him. ‘Please?’
I sit down, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it. ‘Fine. I’m sitting. Happy?’
From the expression on his face, the answer is an immediate and definite no. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Carter look so utterly miserable; I’m not sure I’ve seen anyone look so miserable, in fact. His suit is rumpled, his eyes heavy with bags – as far as I can tell, the only luggage he brought with him.
‘When did you get in?’ I ask.
‘About an hour ago. I tried to get an earlier flight, but they were all sold out. I must have written a thousand texts to you, but…’
‘No signal,’ I say. ‘I haven’t had any signal all week.’ That’s why. That’s why he didn’t get in touch with me. It’s not that he didn’t care, or that he was off banging some co-ed from the University of Chicago’s Department of Kama Sutra Studies. It was just goddamn Verizon, that’s all.
He shakes his head. ‘It’s not even that,’ he says. I started writing so many messages but… there are just some things you can’t say in a text message, you know? Some things, you have to say in person. And then when I realised I wasn’t going to make the wedding, I didn’t want to spoil things for you. That’s when I decided to fly down and say my piece in person.’
‘So that’s it? You just hopped on the first flight you could and decided to come and have a chat with me?’ I furrow my eyebrows, just slightly. That’s not the Carter I know. The Carter I know would never have done something so impulsive. Hell, the Carter I knew struggled to make a decision between matching neckties; the idea of him spending eight-hundred-odd dollars on a return trip is somewhere in the vicinity of finding out that Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster are joint shareholders in Faked Moon Landings, Inc.
He shrugs. ‘It seemed like the right thing to do.’
‘Why are you here, Carter?’ I ask. ‘Why did you come? Really. No bullshit.’
‘I came to see you.’
‘Why, though?’
‘Why do you think, El?’
What was it he had said to me, in that hateful little text? The one I must have read and reread a thousand times, in my mind if not on my phone? Don’t call. I need space from you right now. Have fun in New Orleans. I could have deleted it – probably should have deleted it – but there it was. There was no forgetting it. His words, burned on my mind forever. ‘You made it pretty clear that you didn’t want to see me again, Carter,’ I say.
He shrugs again, but at least this time he has the grace to look shamefaced as he does it. ‘Well, I fucked up,’ he says. ‘There. Is that what you wanted to hear? I. Fucked. Up. I’m sorry I missed the wedding, and I’m sorry for what I said before you came down. I’m sorry I broke up with you over the phone. I’m sorry. That’s all. I’m sorry.’
The more he talks, the louder he gets. By the time he’s finishe
d, small groups of people all over the lobby are doing their level best to make it look as though they’re not eavesdropping on us. ‘Keep your voice down,’ I hiss.
‘No. No, I won’t. I fucked up, and I don’t care who hears.’
‘Carter…’
‘El, I made a huge mistake. It’s all I’ve been thinking about for days. Ever since I got off the phone with you, ever since you went away… I just haven’t been able to get it out of my mind. And then I went around to your apartment, and –’
‘You went to my apartment?’
He nods. ‘Sorry. I just wanted to pick up some things I left there before you got back. I figured it would be easier that way. Then I saw your ring on the nightstand, and I…’ I watch as he sits back and fumbles in his pants pocket; a few seconds later, his skinny little fingers emerge wrapped around a small black velvet box. I know what’s in there long before he flips it open. I can see it in my mind: that loop of silver, the small-yet-stylish round-cut gem that six months ago had seemed so perfect, so right on my finger.
My ring. My plan. My future.
Everything I had ever wanted… a week ago.
He holds it out to me, and suddenly everyone in the lobby gives up any attempt at pretending they weren’t spying on us. It’s funny how quickly people’s attention is grabbed whenever there’s a ring involved, like the diamond serves as a lighthouse beacon pulling them ashore.
‘Carter,’ I say softly, but the word sticks in my throat. You don’t want to do this. Please. Trust me. You don’t.
The ring box clicks open. ‘I was so stupid, El,’ he says. ‘So stupid. I threw away a good thing, because I got scared at how you acted with me sometimes. I mean, so what if you’re a bit controlling, right? It’s not like I’m perfect or anything. That just means you care – and I need that. The past week has made that so clear. I don’t want to spend my life without you. I don’t want to spend another second without you.’
His words drift around me like smoke from a blown-out candle: shapeless, idle, barely there. My eyes are drawn elsewhere, to every other set of eyes in the room. Most of the wedding party seems to have meandered into the lobby over the past two minutes. I see face after familiar face looking across at me, no doubt wondering who the strange, dishevelled man bothering the Maid of Honour is. The old couple – Drew’s grandparents, perhaps – who were telling me that they’d been married for sixty-something years, and what a gift it was. A distant cousin or two. Old friends. Lauren’s work colleagues from the hospital. Peppered among them, the faces of Lauren, of Danielle, of Paige, of Jessica. The longer Carter speaks, the more they seem to come out of the woodwork – like vultures, feasting on drama. It’s not like that, I think. They’re just curious. They want to share in my joy. Because who wouldn’t be happy to hear something like this? Who wouldn’t be thrilled?
Smooth: A New Love Romance Novel (Bad Boy Musicians) Page 18