“Of course.” My dad grabs my mom’s wrist to rein her in. “You two should rely on one another right now.”
“This discussion is finished. You’re both aware now, and I’ll be at another address until further notice by the end of the week.” I pivot on my feet and nearly march to the front door while Carter says goodbye, and then he is outside with me.
My arms are crossed and my feet firm on the cement. It’s when the feeling of the hand that has always been comforting touches my shoulder and guides me to turn to face him, that I realize why I’m about to melt down.
Everybody loves Carter. Everyone thinks I made a mistake when we parted ways. That’s what it has to be. They’re all ready to welcome him back with open arms because this is a chance to repair what never should have been broken.
It’s the worst possible time to do this, especially with eyes probably on us, but I can’t help it. I’m emotional, and my eyes sting from tears because of the whole situation and I’m overwhelmed. I dive my face into Carter’s chest, feeling his arms slowly wrap around me to hold me closer.
I don’t think I can blame this on pregnancy hormones. It’s simply life throwing me a sign.
“Shh, it’s okay.” His whisper always does things to my body. Sometimes sending sensations that come down to passion, and sometimes it glues to my spine, keeping me firm to the ground.
A tear releases. “Carter, I’m so tired and scared and exhausted... I’ll move tomorrow.”
I hear his audible breath of relief. “The guestroom awaits you… I do, too.” I’m not sure I was meant to hear that.
But I did.
7
CARTER
Rosie is sitting on the step in front of my house, hunched forward as she leans against her knees where her dark fingernails tap, her braid to the side perfectly set. Her scowl would be concerning if it wasn’t for the fact that I can see that it’s a façade because she’s horrible at pretending. I was married to her. You learn every little detail of someone.
The sun is out, which adds to the sheen of sweat for my workout of carrying boxes and luggage into my house. Every time I pass her, her eyes follow me.
As I’m pulling out another box, she seems to shift in her watch post. “Are you sure I can’t at least grab something? This is ridiculous.”
I stop mid box pull from her trunk and quickly flash her a pointed look, and at last her dampened smile breaks out. “Rosie…” I quickly look around to ensure nobody is around to hear. “You’re pregnant. Over my dead body are you carrying this stuff inside. I let you carry your yoga mat and that’s all you will be doing.”
“Fine,” she huffs.
I’m relieved she’s been feeling a little better. More tired than sick, although her stomach wooziness comes and goes.
“This is the last of it, anyhow.”
Holding the box in one hand, I shut the trunk. Walking back into the house, Rosie joins me. I drop the box by the bottom of the stairs and opt for a little break.
She goes to the kitchen without me saying a word about how I need a drink. She has brisk steps, and all I can do is follow her with my lips rolled in and fighting a grin.
Noticing that she’s already grabbing two glasses, I lean against the counter and watch her pull out a pitcher of iced tea that she then pours into the glasses. My lips are sealed because she may throw something at me if I point out that she’s already made herself at home.
She sticks her arm out and offers me a glass. “Here.”
“Thank you.”
She takes a small sip then smacks her lips, causing her wince. “This tastes weird.”
“Tastes fine to me.”
“Ugh. Another thing to add to my list of side effects of a reckless night. My sense of taste has gone haywire,” she complains with a lightened tone.
“Reckless?” My brows rise from her brazen choice of definition.
She rolls her eyes to the side and her cheeks tighten from her own humor. “We’re going to have to revisit what to call it one day.”
Enjoying another sip, I’m not worried. “That’s going to be a fun conversation,” I answer dryly.
