This is real and raw and desperate andperfect.
Carter pulls back, his breathing heavy, and presses both hands against the wall behind me. “We’re going to talk about this when I get home.” There’s no question mark at the end of his sentence. It comes out more like a command. A little growly.A lotsexy.
“Talking is good,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “But kissing is better.”
I pull him down and find his lips again. The kiss is softer this time, more tender than the first.
“You’re killing me, Sarah,” he says against my mouth. “Because I have to go, and I really don’t want to.”
He leans back, blue eyes sparkling as he looks down at me, the sweetest expression on his face. “Here,” he says, and then he shrugs out of his pullover, revealing a plain gray t-shirt underneath. The penny he always wears around his neck is resting against his sternum. “Keep this for me,” he says, handing me the pullover. “I don’t know how I’m going to make it nine days without touching you, but it’ll help to know that at least something of mine is against your skin.”
“This and all your t-shirts,” I say.
He grins. “Those don’t count because I already consider them yours.”
Outside, Theo honks the horn so many times in a row, I know our time is up for real.
Carter kisses me one last time. “Nine days,” he says. “Then we’ll talk.”
I nod. “Nine days.”
I clutch Carter’s pullover to my chest, breathing in his scent, already missing him with an ache rooted deep in my gut. I can hardly process what happened. But then, it feels like we’ve been building to this for weeks, cranking the tension up higher and higher, daring each other to be the one who breaks first.
I have no idea what’s going to happen when he comes back. What we’ll talk about. How things will look moving forward.
But I know I’m probably going to wear this pullover for nine days straight. And I dare anyone to tell me I shouldn’t.
25
SARAH
I’m behindon a bunch of errands I need to run—a meeting with my accountant, a trip to the grocery store, an appointment with my eye doctor—so it’s after dinner before I finally make it to Anna’s.
I’m still floating when I get there—it’s only been eight hours since the kiss to rival all kisses—but all thoughts of Carter are pushed from my mind as soon as I reach Anna’s front porch. I can hear Fiona crying from all the way out here. The sound makes me hurry a little faster.
I let myself in and kick off my sneakers before following the sound of Fiona’s cries to the living room.
Anna is pacing in front of the fireplace, Fiona cradled in her arms. She’s trying to get her to take a bottle, and Fiona doesn’t seem very enthusiastic. The older girls are on the couch, watching an episode of Bluey, though I can’t imagine how they’re hearing it over Fiona’s crying.
“Hey,” Anna says when she sees me come in. “I’m trying to get her used to bottles, but she’s really not having it.”
“Here. Let me try,” I say. “I might have more luck since I don’t have boobs full of milk.”
She sighs. “Please. But if she doesn’t figure it out fast, I’ll just nurse her.”
I sit down on the couch with Fiona and the bottle and slowly brush it against her lips. Fiona fights it at first, but only for a moment before she manages to latch.
“Finally,” Poppy says as Fiona gulps down the breastmilk.
“Good work, Fi,” I say as I look down at her perfect little face. She’s bigger than she was the last time I saw her, but I remember feeling that way about Olive and Poppy too. They grow so fast when they’re tiny.
Anna drops onto the couch beside me. “I’m surprised it worked,” she says. “It’s a little early to introduce a bottle, but she’s already such a good nurser, I hoped she’d figure it out.”
“What’s the reason for waiting?” I ask, and Anna shrugs.
“Some people say it can impact your milk supply if you aren’t breastfeeding regularly or interfere with the baby’s ability to latch. But I’m not worried. I have enough milk to feed an army of babies. Her taking a bottle isn’t going to matter. Plus, this way, maybe I’ll be able to go to the last home game.”
I lift my eyebrows. “Are you serious right now? You want to go to a hockey game three weeks postpartum?”
