“I feel really connected to you, Ainsley. Something about you just…it lights me up, you know?”
“I do,” I whispered, the words barely audible. My heart was in my throat, and it felt like all the air had gone out of the room.
Is he saying what I think he is saying? I wondered.
“And I get that you have a lot of shit to work out with your family this week,” he went on. “I know that me being Dom’s best friend complicates things between you and me. Obviously. But…I don’t feel drawn to people like this very often. It’s been years since I’ve felt this kind of instant spark and I think I owe it to myself to trust my instincts. So, the door’s open if you want to walk through it.”
I blinked at him. The door’s open if you want to walk through it. What did that even mean in this context?
“I’m afraid that years of being a workaholic without a social life has impaired my ability to untangle cryptic declarations,” I admitted.
Carson grinned at me. “You want me to spell it out for you, or do you like stewing in the mystery?”
“I hate stewing in the mystery,” I said, laughing. “Uncertainty is perhaps my least favorite emotion.”
He let his hand inch its way closer to mine on the table, until the tips of our fingers were brushing. “I like you, Ainsley. And if you like me too, then feel free to tell me.” Then all at once, he was a world away, his hands neatly in his lap and the intimacy in his face evaporating. “But if you’re not feeling this, no pressure. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. You can just forget I said anything, if you want.”
I opened my mouth to say something—I like you too, maybe, or you make my heart sing—but then the server came bursting into the room with the check. Startled, I dug through my pockets for my wallet, handing over a card without even looking at the bill. Carson was digging out his card as well, but I shook my head.
“My treat,” I said, shooting him what I hoped was a private little smile. Given my inaptitude at flirting, it probably looked more like a grimace.
“Oh whatever,” he said, shaking his head, “at least let me split it with you.”
I was willing to bet that the food, wine, and private room would total somewhere around a thousand dollars, and there was no way that I was going to make him pay a month’s worth of rent when he had originally been planning to eat Thai takeout for dinner.
“You can get the next one,” I assured him, making a mental note to ensure that our next meal took place somewhere considerably cheaper.
He shoved his wallet back in his pocket, placated. I let out a little sigh of relief.
There was nothing to stop me from telling Carson that I liked him too. That thought bounced around my mind as he drove us back to Abshire Manor, as he pulled into the long driveway, as he cut the engine and turned to smile shyly at me. I was trying to summon the nerve to admit my feelings, to see what would happen if we both acknowledged our connection. It felt like being at boarding school, shyly attempting to ask Cindy Fitzgerald to the homecoming dance. The fear of being shot down, the warmth tingling up and down my arms, the clench of my stomach. I was nervous, I realized.
“Well, uh…we should probably go inside,” Carson said, the hope in his eyes starting to fade.
“Right,” I said numbly, unbuckling and getting out of the car.
“Right,” he echoed, biting his lip. Then he was leading the way to the hulking farmhouse, his back to me. I knew right down to my core that I was missing my chance. The opportunity was slipping through my fingers like sand in an hourglass, and I was too afraid to make my move.
I might have let him go, and that would have been it. After all, I was weak and out of practice. Romance was not my strong suit, and it never had been. But there was a voice in the back of my mind urging me to go for it, to take a chance. For once in my life, I allowed myself to think of something other than my work.
“Carson, wait,” I said, bounding up the porch steps to where he was standing in front of the door.
He turned to face me, his expression unreadable. “You don’t have to say anything, Ainsley.”
“You’re right, I don’t have to say anything,” I said, steeling myself. “But I do have to do something.”
He stared up at me, guarded, afraid of rejection. His voice shook as he asked, “What do you have to do?”
Before I could talk myself out of it, I placed one hand on his waist and used the other to tip up his chin. Our eyes met, and I swore that I saw my own feelings in his gaze, reflected exactly. I leaned down, pulling him in closer, and nuzzled in, our noses brushing lightly. His lips parted instinctively, and I felt a surge of affection as I moved to close the distance between us, preparing to press a gentle kiss against his lips.
People talk about seeing fireworks when they have a really spectacular kiss, and that night on the porch of Abshire Manor, I knew I was about to see the finale of the Hudson River Fourth of July celebration, a cacophony of colored sparks exploding as far as the eye can see. My body was primed to melt into Carson’s, the two of us fitting against each other so perfectly. Our lips were a mere millimeter apart—
And that was the moment that Dominic chose to charge through the front door, startling us apart. I turned away at once, sure that he would know exactly what we had been up to if he saw my face. Carson, on the other hand, plastered on a polite, neutral expression, and nodded at his friend.
“Hey Dom,” he said.
“Where have you been?” Dominic asked, sounding vaguely annoyed.
“Oh, Ainsley and I went to grab some dinner,” Carson said, casual as can be.
Dominic turned to glare at me. “It’s not bad enough that you crashed our vacation, now you’re commandeering my best friend for meals too?”
“Dom—”
I cut Carson off neatly, sneering at Dominic. “Unless I am much mistaken, Alistair invited me to join you on this little vacation, which rather contradicts your accusation.”
Dominic rolled his eyes. “Why do you always sound like you just stepped out of a Jane Austen novel? It’s 2018, dude, ever heard of the common vernacular?”
I pushed out my chest, towering over him. There was an obvious explanation for why he got under my skin so effectively, of course. Alistair had never shown the slightest bit of interest in me, while he was making great efforts—however misguided—to bond with his new stepson. But knowing the cause of my distress did nothing to lessen it.
“Vernacular, huh? Impressive SAT word, kid,” I snapped, knowing that he would absolutely detest being infantilized.
“Oh, fuck you,” Dominic hurled back, “I’m twenty-eight, you self-righteous asshole.”
“Twenty-eight? Dear me, based on your behavior I wouldn’t have guessed a day over eighteen,” I goaded him. “Why can’t you act your age, like Carson here?”
“Ainsley, come on, that’s enough,” Carson said seriously, placing a hand on my bicep.
A rush of shame coursed through me. I was acting like a child, flinging insults at Dominic just to get under his skin. The worst bit was that the person who really deserved my anger was not even present—he was probably already in bed with his new wife, sipping brandy and reading Mark Twain. I opened my mouth to apologize—though I wasn’t sure who to—when Dominic started in again.
“Act my age?” he barked, an angry flush rising on his cheeks. “I’m sorry, who’s the forty-something throwing a tantrum right now? You act your age. And why are you bringing Carson into this, like you know him? Like he gives a shit about you?”
“Dom,” Carson said loudly, stepping between us. “Ainsley. That’s enough out of both of you. I get that tempers are running high, this is a stressful week for all of us. But let’s pull it together, okay? Try to find some common ground?”
“That’ll be tough seeing as I don’t spend all my free time jerking off to Billionaire Magazine,” Dominic muttered, glaring at me.
“Actually, I prefer Philanthropy,” I said primly, and Carson choked
down a laugh.
“Whatever,” said Dominic, rolling his eyes. “I’m going to bed.”
With that, he was stomping back into the farmhouse, slamming the door behind him. I raised both eyebrows at Carson, and he shook his head.
“You two are going to be the death of me,” he sighed. “I should probably go make sure he’s okay. But…thanks for dinner. It was really, really nice getting to know you.”
“You as well,” I said, my heart aching as he headed for the door. I watched him, silently begging him to come back and wrap his arms around me, kiss me the way he had been about to before we were interrupted. He paused with his hand on the doorknob, and for a split second I thought he was going to turn around. But then he just went inside, closing the door quietly behind him and leaving me throbbing.
Flashback
There are a lot of things you have to do when a family member dies.
Sure, you need to plan a funeral, spread the news to loved ones, arrange for the transport of their lifeless body. But there is also a vast array of nitty gritty tasks, like closing out their credit cards and disconnecting their cell phones.
Verizon doesn’t know somebody is dead until you call and tell them.
So, those long nights in the hospital between surgeries, I called their phones. Again and again I listened to the ringing, and then—my real reason for calling—their voicemail messages.
My mom’s voice, clipped and businesslike.
My dad’s, jovial as always.
My sister’s, trying to sound cool and aloof like all the other middle schoolers.
I held my sister’s hand as I listened to her voicemail on repeat, watched the life support machines breathe for her, feed her, keep her body alive while doctors confirmed that she would never wake up.
That particular torture went on for six long days and nights.
It took much longer than that before I was ready to disconnect their phones lines.
I don’t leave voicemail messages anymore, when I can avoid it. I hang up before the phone rings out, unable to bear the memories.
7
Carson
God.
What a night.
Over the course of just a few hours I had witnessed two family feuds, been taken on a modern-day fairytale date, starting falling for a rich older man, and just barely missed being pulled into one hell of a kiss.
What the actual fuck?
Whose life was I living, and when were they going to come take it back?
I made my way upstairs in a daze, feeling pulled between the blissful happiness of a potential romance and the stark annoyance at Ainsley and Dom’s inability to be civil to each other.
When I got to Dom’s room, the door was closed and there wasn’t a strip of light underneath it. I knocked softly, and heard a quiet, “I want to be alone.”
“Okay,” I called through the door. “I’m just across the hall if you need me.”
Then I went into my own room, throwing myself onto the bed.
It was cute, with yellow and white damask wallpaper on the walls and a plush lavender quilt on the queen-sized bed. I flicked on the bedside lamp, spilling warm light over the room, and glanced out the window. I could see the goats, curled up together in a little stable, clearly tucked in for the night.
Sighing, I pulled out my phone and shot off a series of texts to Leo, hoping he was awake and sober enough to respond.
>>CARSON: i need a confidante, buddy
>>CARSON: this family vacation is buck wild
To my relief, it only took him about a minute to start typing. I watched the little speech bubble impatiently.
>>LEO: you’ve only been there like 5 hours man
>>LEO: what could possibly have happened in that amount of time
>>LEO: ???
I bit my lip. How could I even put it all into words?
>>CARSON: for one thing, dom and his new stepbrothers are at each other’s throats
>>CARSON: i’ve never seen him worked up like this
>>CARSON: he’s really struggling
Struggling was definitely the right word for it. I had known Dom for a long time, and he was always even-keeled, level-headed. We all depended on him to keep us from fucking up, to help us find our way when we lost it. I had a lot of empathy for the way he was lashing out, and also a lot of concern. This just wasn’t like him.
>>LEO: what, like he’s fighting with them?
>>LEO: that doesn’t sound like him at all
Shaking my head, I typed out my response.
>>CARSON: yeah they keep fighting
>>CARSON: slinging insults at each other
>>CARSON: fucking posturing like they’re gonna start brawling
>>CARSON: it’s really weird to see
If I knew Leo at all—and I definitely did—I was pretty sure that he was laughing at the image. It was just so bizarre.
>>LEO: dom never had a sibling to fight with when he was a kid
>>LEO: makes sense he’s reverting back to childhood when he meets alistair’s sons
I hadn’t really thought about it that way, but Leo was right. It did make sense.
>>CARSON: i’m trying to keep the peace but
>>CARSON: things got a little…uh…complicated tonight
Normally, Dom would be the first person I would tell about the night I had with Ainsley. But given the circumstances, that was off the table.
And I knew that Leo would be supportive.
If there was one thing he loved, it was a scandal.
>>LEO: carson
>>LEO: what did you do
>>LEO: ???
It was a good question.
What the hell had I done?
Fraternizing with Ainsley was pretty much the only way I could’ve made the week more complicated for myself…and for everyone else, really.
>>CARSON: i may or may not be falling for one of the stepbrothers
And, yeah.
It sounded fucking ridiculous when I said it out loud. Or typed it. Whatever.
>>LEO: not to sound like a broken record
>>LEO: but
>>LEO: you’ve only been there like 5 hours man
God, what a five hours it had been.
>>CARSON: i know
>>CARSON: i didn’t mean to, i swear
>>CARSON: it just kinda…happened
>>CARSON: like our eyes met and everything changed
>>CARSON: fuck i sound like a disney princess
The speech bubble appeared, disappeared, appeared again.
My heart was pounding as I watched it.
>>LEO: so, what, you hooked up with him?
>>LEO: which one was it?
>>LEO: god you’re making a mess
>>LEO: i love it
Trust Leo to be…uh…supportive.
>>CARSON: i didn’t hook up with anyone
>>CARSON: some of us need more than eye contact to jump into bed
>>CARSON: but ainsley took me to dinner
>>CARSON: and it was just…really lovely
>>CARSON: i can’t remember ever feeling this way leo
>>CARSON: my pulse is racing just thinking about it
I was officially entering sappy territory.
God, Leo was never going to let me live this down.
>>LEO: fuck dude
>>LEO: congrats
>>LEO: it’s been a long time since you’ve talked about having feelings for anyone
>>LEO: is he into you too?
My mind flicked back to that almost-kiss, the electricity sparking between us.
>>CARSON: there was almost a kiss
God.
>>LEO: almost???
>>LEO: why didn’t you go for it?
Why, indeed.
I wanted his lips on mine so badly that it was physically painful.
>>CARSON: dom interrupted us
>>CARSON: he didn’t see anything
>>CARSON: thank god
>>CARSON: but then they got in
another fight
>>CARSON: and now i’m freaking out
>>CARSON: getting together with ainsley is only going to complicate things this week
>>CARSON: i should just be here for dom, right?
>>CARSON: push my own feelings aside
>>CARSON: be a good friend
It sounded like hell, but it really would be the best thing.
Right?
Leo’s reaction took me by surprise.
>>LEO: no offense but you’re being a fucking idiot dude
>>LEO: you’ve spent years pushing your feelings aside
>>LEO: never rocking the boat
>>LEO: trying to stay safe
>>LEO: and that was a good coping mechanism
>>LEO: it served you well while you were healing
>>LEO: but you’re all patched up now
>>LEO: it’s time to prioritize yourself bro
>>LEO: if you have feelings for ainsley then fucking go for it
I gaped at my phone.
Leo didn’t knock sense into people very often. He preferred to sit back and spectate, encouraging us along the way, but letting us make our own mistakes.
The fact that he was taking a stand on this spoke volumes.
>>CARSON: what about dom?
>>CARSON: he’ll be so upset
>>CARSON: and he needs me
>>CARSON: he’s always been there for me
>>CARSON: i need to be there for him this week
Dom was my best friend, my brother, the most important person in my life.
That had to come before my dating life, right?
>>LEO: dom’s a big boy
>>LEO: he can take care of himself
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