Page 42

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

arden

“Ugh.” I scoff when I swing open the door to my apartment to find my date waiting.

I give him a once-over and roll my eyes.

He’s wearing joggers, a brown sweater, and a ball cap pulled low over his eyes.

He looks ridiculously attractive. Carter cocks a brow, so I gesture at his body.

“How do you just roll up looking like that? ”

There it is, that megawatt, blinding smile that I’ve grown quite fond of. It takes over his whole face.

“These old things?” he says, and he strikes a couple of poses on my front walkway. I break into laughter as his eyes skim over my outfit. Fitted, flared jeans and a green cropped shirt. Topped off with an oversized blazer. Easy. Simple. “Speak for yourself.”

It’s hard to accept compliments. I don’t know why. I think as women we’re taught that confidence and self-love are arrogant and unattractive qualities, so we are programmed to reject compliments or respond to them with a negative. We tell women to love themselves and then judge them when they do.

Carter dishes out compliments easily, and they’re so frequent that I have had to start accepting them, or I’d be arguing with him for hours a day.

“Thanks.” I smile, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. He nods toward his vehicle, and then he’s hauling open the door and helping me inside like he always does.

I am strangely excited for this night. More so than the other nights before it. Don’t get me wrong, I love watching Carter play, and it’s nice to go out with him and his friends, but this night feels like two people hanging out without a strange dating agreement between them.

Plus, it’s a surprise.

Nobody ever surprises me anymore, unless it’s with more hospital bills. I prefer this kind.

Carter steers us out of my neighbourhood, still without giving me a single hint as to what we’re doing. He just bops his head along to the rap music that’s quietly filling the car. He is actively choosing not to look at me, but I can see the smile he’s trying to suffocate, clear as day.

He’s ignoring me for fun.

“Carter!” I hiss, after a long few moments of pained nothingness.

He chuckles. “Can’t you wait twenty more minutes?”

“No.”

“Well, you’re going to have to. I’m not spilling the beans.”

He said that tonight will be casual and that nobody will be bothering us where we’re going. That means he’s not anticipating eyes on us or pictures being taken. It also means that it can be almost anything.

I rack my brain for stories I’ve told him, or things I’ve mentioned in the past, since he said he chose this date because he believes I’ll enjoy it.

I sit back in my seat, crossing my arms in front of my chest with a frustrated huff. Maybe I don’t like surprises after all .

“See?” he says, glancing over at me. “Isn’t it more fun this way?”

No. I want answers. I like organized lists and clear, thought-out plans, and hadn’t realized how badly I need control over even the most mundane of things until this very moment.

Fortunately, twenty minutes pass, and we finally pull up to a hole-in-the-wall type of pub. It’s on the outskirts of the city, away from the fanfare and the busy, fast-paced environment. The logo above the door is a skull and chicken bones.

Carter holds the door open for me, leading me into the dark bar with his hand on the small of my back.

It’s the kind of place that is unassuming, but entirely full of heart.

The type of place that has regulars who are loyal and who know the staff by name.

It has bartenders who remember your face.

It’s a place you come to once and find excuses to keep returning.

We are definitely not regulars and it’s obvious.

I shoot Carter a questioning look, but he only smiles widely in response. For a moment, I wonder what it feels like to be so sure of yourself. What it’s like to be him. Carter owns every space that he walks into, with no discomfort in his being.

We don’t go to the bar for a drink, we go to a small booth in the back with a ‘reserved’ sign sitting on the tabletop.

Seems funny, in a place like this, to have reserved tables. There is nobody here but us.

“What is this?” I ask quietly, shuffling into the booth.

“A pub.”

I shook him a look. “Yes, but what are we doing here?”

He shrugs, gently taking the drink menu out from under my fingertips. He gathers them and places them at the end of the table, signalling that we will not need them.

That’s a shame. I would love a drink right now .

I do another cursory glance around the room, tapping my foot to the music playing softly through the speakers.

“They’re just going to keep bringing us different appetizers, if that’s okay,” Carter says, and I must still look completely confused, because he continues with a mischievous wink. “It’s part of the deal.”

“What deal?”

“To have this place to ourselves.”

I blink. “What?”

He shrugs. “It’s nothing major. I figured it would be nice not to be bothered for pictures or conversations while we’re out together for once.”

“Isn’t that the point of all of this, though?”

His eyes meet mine, and he leans back so casually in the booth that if I didn’t know him well enough, I’d assume the gesture wasn’t a loaded one. His arms are resting on the tabletop, sparkling blue eyes burning right through me like he thinks this question is a test.

Is it?

“You aren’t a spectacle, Red,” he says, after some thought. “You deserve some time outside of the circus, too.”

I resist the urge to remind him I have plenty of moments outside of the circus. I have my time at the hospital, the days with my friends, and my evenings alone at home. I don’t need extra breaks. All of this has been manageable.

I don’t say anything, though. I don’t want to ridicule his kind gesture. I like that he did this for me. I love that he considered my feelings at all. It warms my heart to know that he cares enough to do that. For me.

Regrettably, I like spending rare moments in the shadows and away from the fanfare with Carter Forkerro, even if they aren’t a part of the deal.

“Good evening,” a woman in her early forties says, approaching the table.

She’s in a black shirt with that same skulled logo on the right side of her chest, and an apron tied around her waist. No pad of paper in hand.

She’s equipped with nothing but her smile.

“Your first round of appetizers will be out in a few moments. Did we want to start the tasting now?”

Carter turns to her and nods. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Great. I’ll bring that right out.”

When she scurries away, I turn to look at him. “Tasting?”

Carter smiles a gentle, soft smile that I rarely see on that face. No blatant charm. No cockiness. Pure sweetness.

“This place is famous for their chicken wings. They’ve been on, like, ten television specials for them.”

“We’re tasting chicken wings?” I ask, and my stomach grumbles. They aren’t nuggets, but they’re close.

He shakes his head. “No. Well, yes, that too, but that’s not why we’re here. They’re famous for their chicken wings, but they’re also famous for their rare wine selection.”

My brows jump upward. That’s the sexiest sentence I have ever heard.

“They import wine from all over the world. Rare bottles, expensive bottles, unique stuff—the works. They host these wine tastings every month that people fight to get tickets for. We’re going to sample their reds tonight, Red.”

My heart dips and twirls and flutters until my stomach is swarming with a cluster of butterflies. I’m fully smiling now, my voice getting caught in my throat. “You brought me to a wine tasting?”

He nods, eyes softening as they search mine. “I thought you might enjoy it.”

“I will,” I tell him, my chest tightening at the thoughtfulness. “I know we haven’t even had a sip yet, but this might be the best date I’ve ever been on. ”

His brows skyrocket. He drops his head like he didn’t hear me properly. “What?”

“Very thoughtful.”

He’s still staring at me. “Has…nobody ever done something thoughtful for you before?”

I shake my head because it’s the truth. Guys have long since stopped being gentlemen.

In an age of social media, finding a good man is a rarity.

The world doesn’t breed men anymore, it breeds boys.

Obsessed with the next hottest girl on their Instagram.

Thrilled by the next best thing rather than their greatest achievement, waiting for them at home.

Men are unable to water their own grass because they’d rather gawk at the lawn next door.

Dates nowadays are drinks and dinners, and a few months of texting back and forth. There is no real effort. No real charm to it all. Eventually, the texts slow, the dates dwindle to nothing, and that person becomes a stranger, like they were just a few weeks prior.

Dating in the present day isn’t for the weak.

“Well, that pisses me off,” he grumbles. He leans forward, eyes burning into my face. “Don’t settle for less than ‘thoughtful’. Don’t date dudes who don’t open the car door for you. Don’t entertain assholes who only text you when it’s dark, late, and they’re lonely. Okay?”

Well, that’s easy enough. There’s a reason I haven’t slept with anyone in years.

I gave up on the game. Prioritized myself instead.

It’s much happier this way. A life with only yourself and your own problems to think about.

To worry about. Never having to bend because someone isn’t trying to break you.

“I’ve thought about one hundred different dates you’d enjoy, and I’ve only known you for a little while. Wine tastings. Adoption fairs. A spa day so you can relax for one day of your life, where you can get a real massage while you sip ridiculously disgusting cucumber waters.”

Oh.

Wow.