He shrugs. “I told them tonight was about you.”
“I wouldn’t have minded,” I quickly say. “If you want to?—”
Carter lifts a hand and presses a finger to my lips, gently silencing my words. “I just want to be your husband tonight.” His hand shifts, grazing along my cheek until he’s gently holding the back of my neck, his eyes locked on mine. “Nothing else.”
I swallow against a sudden knot in my throat, my heart pounding in my chest.
I want this.
I wanthim.
But is that even fair? He’s here supporting me, showing up in a way I’ll never be able to do for him. No matter my attempts to reason with myself—and I have, for my brother’s sake, more times than I can count—my body remembers thetrauma even if my brain is willing to forget. My mouth goes dry, my limbs lock up. I don’t know how to get past the trigger. I want to believe it’s been long enough that maybe I would be okay. That it might be different if I have Carter to motivate me.
Then again, maybe it wouldn’t matter.
Does love always have to look symmetrical?
Maybe, if I explained, if Carter knew what I was up against, he would understand.
Maybe I could support him enough in other ways.
As the night moves on, I meet so many people, hear so many names I’ll never remember.
Carter stays close, always available to fill an awkward silence or give my hand an encouraging squeeze. He also makes it his personal mission to keep track of how many red dots appear next to paintings indicating they’ve sold. Each time he gives me an update, he looks like a kid who just watched his favorite team win the Stanley Cup.
“Only four left,” he says when the night’s almost over. “That’s good, right?”
I take a deep breath. Only four left isvery good.
“Miles and Anna just got here,” Carter says next. “I didn’t know they were coming.”
“I didn’t either,” I say. Anna’s due date is only three days away, so I told her she didn’t need to make the effort. She said she might try anyway, but I didn’t truly expect them to come. I know how much of a hassle it is to get a babysitter on a weeknight—especially since their go-to babysitter isme.
I turn to see them approaching, Anna looking stunning in a black wrap dress stretched tight over her belly, Miles in a suit beside her. “You came!” I say, reaching out to give them each a hug.
“Of course we did,” Anna says. “This is a big night for you. Besides, I thought I might lose my mind if I didn’t get out of the house. The girls drove me up the wall today.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been over more,” I say. “But with the show behind me, I totally will be. As often as you need me.”
“So you’re moving in?” Anna jokes, then her expression turns more serious. “Is the New York lady here yet?”
I fight to hide my disappointment. “Not yet. And this late, she probably won’t be. But you know who is here? Emerson. And he’ll die if you don’t say hello.”
I walk with Anna to where Emerson is chatting with Bradley and roll my eyes over their baby name conversation—he’s still campaigning, the big dummy. Carter is talking to Miles near the door, and I keep glancing that way, distracted by the obvious tension between them.
At a break in the conversation, I loop my arm through Anna’s. “Hey, why do our husbands look like they want to kill each other?”
Anna’s quiet for long enough that I’m guessing she and Miles have talked about it, and she’s trying to figure out how much to say.
But I can’t wait around for her to respond because Calista Reinhardt just walked through the door.
I suck in a gasp. “Oh my gosh,” I say. “She’s here.”
Anna follows my gaze. “Oh, she’s stunning,” Anna says. “Very New York.”
Shedoeslook stunning. Her gray hair is pixie-cut short and perfectly curly, just long enough to frame her face in a way that makes her cheekbones pop. Her dark brown skin is ageless and glowy, her outfit somehow looks both flowy and chic, and I really, really want to be herwhen I grow up.
Carter moves up behind me as Calista checks her coat. “Is that her?”
