"I don't know why I'm crying," I admit. "This is so embarrassing."
"You're pregnant and you have been dancing since eight a.m. Go easy on yourself."
Breathing in strength, I break our embrace. "I'm sorry. I'm a silly girl."
He tilts my chin with his finger. "You listen to me. There is nothing silly about crying."
Collecting myself, I take a deep breath. "I love my life. I love Max. I love our blob."
He nods. "I know you do."
"I'm not unhappy."
"You have already said that."
My eyes bounce around my studio. "It just all happened so fast."
"Life does that sometimes. Would you change anything if you could?"
The late nights alone in bed.
The bloodied shirts.
Bruises that can't be explained.
Mafioso.
But then I think about dark-brown hair, conflicted grey-blue eyes, and big warm hands. I think about the way my heart flutters when he's nearby. When I can feel him tracking me around a room. I think about how vulnerable he can be when he allows himself to seek comfort in my arms. Sighing, I admit, "If changing something meant not having Max, then no."
His smile widens. "That's good to hear."
I crane my neck to stare straight at Carter, feeling such comfort even though he's practically a stranger. And I see past his scars. They don't shock me anymore. I stare at them, waves upon waves of craters and valleys. "Tell me something about yourself. We spend nearly every second together and I know nothing about you."
"My story isn't a happy one," he states, clasping his hands in front of him.
"How did you get your scars?" I whisper, the question just tumbling out.
He smiles at me, but it doesn't meet his eyes. "In a fire."
That makes sense; his face does look like it's melted. "What happened?"
When his lips form a thin line, I wish I never asked.Shaking my head, I start to say, “Forget I asked—” when he begins to talk...
"When I was your age, I was a smoke parachuter. Many years ago, before you were even born, there was a huge fire in the District. It cut through half the city. When I made the drop, I miscalculated it and went down into the inferno."
I gasp. "Oh my God..." Filled with instant pride, I smile at him in awe. "You're a real-life hero... I always thought—" I clear my throat. "Sorry, Ipresumedit had something to do with, ya know, working for Max."
He moves over to the kitchen, sitting back down on the stool. "Most of the people in the neighbourhood lost something or someone over those months. As a community, we were on fire. And it was arson that started it."
I can't believe I didn't know about this. "Did they catch him?"
"They did." He nods once. "He got ten years but was out on parole after four."
My ears burn. "Four!"
"Yes," he confirms calmly, but his eyes lose a bit of vibrancy. A strange kind of detachment moves over him. And while this whole time he's been fixed on me, now Carter is suddenly missing from inside his own gaze.
I swallow hard and take a step towards him. "How many people died?"
