“We’re having dessert?” I ask.
“I dunno if I’m sharing yet,” he says, opening the package and pulling out his fork.
I tear off a piece of the croissant and pop it in my mouth. It’s warm and buttery. Carter reaches for the guac at the same time I do, and his forearm presses against mine. He doesn’t pull away. He holds the contact, dips his chip, and sits back.
“Tell me something about you I don’t know,” I say.
“Hmm.” Carter sets his taco down and leans back. “My little sister passed away years ago. Eden was four years younger than me. Stubborn as hell, smarter than any of the Banks boys, and she never let any of us forget it either.” The corner of his mouth lifts. “She could walk into a room full of people and speak her mind without care or consequence.”
“I’m sorry,” I offer. “The balls that takes.”
“You’re telling me. But, ahh, that’s depressing, isn’t it?” he says, then takes a sip of wine.
“You miss her. That’s kinda how we heal when we lose people, ya know? Talking about it, laughing, in their memory.”
I reach over and touch his arm. His muscles tense before relaxing.
“She would’ve liked you,” Carter tells me. “A real ballbuster.”
I scoff. “Excuse me. I am not. I’m very nice. Just professional.”
“Sometimes, you are. This morning though … eh, not so much,” he adds.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” I take a big bite of salad that’s perfectly tossed in dressing.
Just thinking about being spread out on his bed has me breathing slightly differently. I push the thoughts away.
He smirks like he can read my mind.
“Your turn,” he says. “Tell me something you keep to yourself.”
The sky fades into neon streaks with darkness creeping at the edges.
“I almost didn’t come back home.” I cut into the salmon. “When Josie called and told me Gran was struggling, my first instinct wasn’t to pack my car. I wanted to be selfish with my life for once, and I knew if I left California, Adam would end things.”
“But you left anyway?”
“I tested him anyway. I thought he’d fight for me, try to make it work. I waited for myI’d do anything for lovemoment, but it didn’t come.
“I was miserable, managing the W in Los Angeles. I had a fancy title and a six-figure salary, but I’d go home, beg to see my boyfriend who constantly denied me, eat a bowl of cereal over the sink, then go straight to bed, hoping the next day would be different. Lonely but constantly surrounded by human robots. I was tired of helping a billion-dollar corporation succeed.”
I take a deep breath, then continue, “Seaside is my legacy. I chose it over what I thought was love. I realize now that I was nothing more than a convenience to everyone around me. I’d work whatever schedule I was asked without complaining. I never took vacations. I wanted to be at the very top of that luxury hotel chain until I saw behind the curtain. When I realized it meant selling myself to the industry and kissing the rings of people who never earned my respect, I was out.” I shake my head. “I’d rather be broke and happy than rich and miserable. Any day of the week.”
I take a sip, and the silence sits between us. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to dump that on you.”
“Don’t apologize. What you did was brave. A strong person knows when they’re sitting at the wrong table and actually gets up. Leaving is what makes you different.”
“It felt like the right thing to do. Was it?” All I can do is shrug.
“Yeah,” he says, showing his straight teeth. “You met me.”
“Oh, so humble,” I say.
He refills our cups. “Do you regret it?”
“I think this is where I’m supposed to be. Honestly, meeting you has been a highlight.”
“Are you flirting with me?” Carter asks with a brow popped.
