“I hired a PI,” I call as Carter carries me inside. I frown. “Or did I? I can’t—”
The door slams shut, and my conversation with my sisters is over.
16
Carter carries me through theliving area and around the kitchen corner to the hallway, and deposits me gently on the bed. “It’s bright in here,” I grumble.
“There’s literally no lights on.” I can’t tell anything by his bland tone. Is he angry? Resentful? Amused? Before I can ask, he adds, “Be right back.”
I groan. I’m still wearing my out-to-dinner clothes. I stand—slowly—and take off my satin crop top, and slide my high-waisted trousers to the floor. When Carter returns, I’m wearing nothing but my black lace push-up bra, decidedly not-matching boy shorts in neon green, and nude slipper socks.
He freezes at the entryway to the room, a large glass of water in his hand. In fact, he stops so suddenly that his hand gets doused, dripping with the water, but he doesn’t even notice. His eyes are on me, all over me, and even though he was right, there aren’t any lamps on in here, from the window an outdoor light illuminates his face enough that I see the way he swallows thickly. “What are you doing?” he grits out.
“I was uncomfortable.” I reach behind as Carter’s eyes widen. “And now I’m getting comfortable.”
He turns one whole second after my bra falls to the floor, his breath heavy. “Teal…”
“Don’t you want to?” I ask him. “You wanted to last year at least.”
Even though he’s facing away from me, his eyes are squeezed shut. “And you’re drunk, just like last year. When”—he shakes his head—“ifsomething ever happens between us, it can’t be like this.”
“I wasn’t drunk yesterday.” Yet another rejection of me—two in twenty-four hours!—is sobering me up quick. I dart over to the dresser and pull out a huge, soft sleep shirt. “And yet you found it prudent to act like I was the most disgusting thing you’d ever touched.” I sigh. “I’m dressed. So you can stop acting repulsed now.”
I sit on the bed and listen to his soft footfall against the carpet get closer. He nudges the water into my hands. “Drink. Please.”
I want to cross my arms and tell him to go away, but I also don’t want to wake up puking my guts out tomorrow morning. I sip the water until it’s gone, and he takes the glass. After a minute, he returns, sitting next to me. Not close enough to touch, but not exactly as far away as he can, either.
“I don’t know if you’ll remember this in the morning,” he says, his voice gruff and crackly. “But you’re the fucking most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. No one else comes close. No one else has ever come close.”
When he stands I turn my face to him, my eyes wide. Somehow I feel even more naked than when I was only in my underwear a few minutes ago. “No one thinks I’m beautiful.” I whisper it.
I know what I look like. Johnny told me all about it often enough. My hips are too narrow and muscular, and my shoulders are too wide and thick. My breasts, just one cup too small, and myass could be bigger, too, for that matter. My lips and eyes are too narrow and my waist, despite my defined abs, could be smaller. “Not bad,” Johnny had said the first time he saw me naked. He was the first man to ever see me naked. And I knew hisnot badwasn’t a compliment. It was telling me about all the flaws of my body, the things that I could never change, the way I could never be enough for him.
Or for anyone. He made sure to tell me that a lot, too.No one but me would ever want you.
“Everyone thinks you’re beautiful. ’Cause that’s what you are.” Carter sounds sincere, at least. I can almost believe him.
But that doesn’t stop me from turning away from his blazing gaze. I can accept that Carter is physically attracted to me, after yesterday’s events. But I guess that means that the rest of me—my personality, namely—is what he is running away from. And I’m not sure which is worse.
I can’t respond to him about it. So I say something that’s been on my mind—something I haven’t had the guts to say till there’s a lot of drinks in me. “I wish you had told me about Abuelo Gene, Carter.” I take a deep breath and begin counting. On my next exhale, I add, “I loved him, too.”
It sounds like he’s stopped breathing for a few seconds, and then: “I know, Teal. I should’ve told you. I’m sorry.”
We sit in silence for several long minutes until he clears his throat. “I’ll be on the pull-out if you need me.”
I nod. And when he’s gone, I let myself quietly cry, for five minutes, no more, before falling asleep.
If I thought this roomwas bright last night, well. Late morning, I feel like someone is trying to beat me to death with thebright yellow rays of sunshine leaking in through the windows. And that’s after only barely opening a single eye.
“Make it stop,” I mumble, pulling my pillow over my face. After a moment, I peek through the cushion to discover that the sun still exists. “Why is it still there?”
“Why is what still there?”
I nearly fall backward, even though I’m lying down, at the sound of Carter’s voice in the room. When I pull the pillow away from my face, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed. I give his expression, posture, basically his whole vibe a quick assessment. He doesn’t look awkward or like he hates me after last night’s regrettable series of events. His eyes are warm and bright.
“Why is the sun still there,” I respond eventually. “Is what I was asking.” My voice sounds like it belongs to a toad that’s been unalive for about ten thousand years.
He stands and hands me a glass of water and what appears to be two over-the-counter painkillers.
