Wendy
Itoss and turn for three hours before I give up. Thoughts of Carter has me longing for him. Ever since Adam arrived, I’ve felt uneasy like my two worlds are colliding.
At five a.m., I roll out of bed and go downstairs to start a pot of coffee. Rose hasn’t arrived yet, and my grandma is still in her bungalow. The smell of coffee drifts through the kitchen, and I glance out the window, seeing it’s still dark. I pour two mugs, then make my way up the stairs toward Carter’s room. I balance the two mugs by their handles and lightly knock on his door before entering.
Carter sits on the edge of the bed with circles under his eyes.
“You look like shit,” I tell him.
I hand him a cup of coffee, and he takes it.
The room smells like him. I sit beside him, not knowing if he wants me there or not. I don’t care.
“I want to talk about yesterday,” I say, blowing on my coffee.
“Which part?”
“TheI don’t know.”
Carter watches me and doesn’t say a word.
“Five years is a long time to spend with someone,” I say. “He knows my weaknesses and that I’ve waited months for himto come to me. But that’s not the same thing as him having a chance. I need you to understand that.”
“I want you to be happy,” he says. “I can’t ask you to stay either.”
I close my eyes, hating how he’s repeating that back to me.
He rubs the back of his neck, staring at the floor. His jaw tightens, and he looks toward the balcony. “I’m not threatened by him.”
“You are.”
“I don’t want to lose you.”
My breath catches. “Carter.”
He doesn’t touch me, but we’re close enough that I can feel his body heat. We sit there while the sky outside starts to lighten and the birds swoop over the water.
“We need to talk,” he says. “Once he leaves and I know your decision.”
I turn toward him. “I’m not giving him a chance.”
“Maybe you should.” His hands grip the mug. “I don’t want to be with someone who’s still thinking about their ex. Either you’re with me or you’re not.”
“Carter—”
“I told you I don’t share, Wendy. That even includes up here.” He taps on his temple and stands from the mattress. “You need to figure it out.”
He’s right.
“I will,” I tell him. “Adam being here doesn’t change what this is.”
“It does. And it cuts into the time I have left with you.” Carter looks at me, and the expression on his face tells me he’s not happy. Not anymore. It’s a complete change from last night. “Going for a run.”
He gulps more of the coffee and sets the half-drunk cup on his nightstand. After his shoes are on, he’s gone. I exhale.
I take both mugs back downstairs and wash them in the sink. I stare out the kitchen window while the sky turns pink over the water.
Carter’s right, and I hate that he’s right because “figure it out” isn’t something a fling says. A fling saysit’s cool, whatever happens. Carter just told me to choose, and the fact that I can’t give him a clean answer is a problem.
