Page 52

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

arden

I yawn, glancing over at Carter. He’s hyper-focused on his game, headset half on his head so he can still hear me.

I was adamant that he play since I basically begged to spend the weekend with him.

I’m sore and tired after a string of night shifts, and I wanted nothing more than to move myself into his guest room and melt inside the bathtub.

He said yes before I even finished my sentence.

It’s Friday night, and I have a few days off coming up.

I’ll be spending them with my fake boyfriend in his obnoxiously nice condo while he plays Call of Duty with his friends and yells at them for hours on end.

He has a game tomorrow afternoon, but he promised it would be okay if I missed it, and showed me how to pull it up on the TV instead.

I was upstairs for a bit, reading my book and sleeping on and off, but after a few hours, I snuck down here and curled up on the couch next to him like a cat. He already had a glass of red waiting for me on the coffee table.

I stretch out my legs, popping my feet onto his lap.

The corner of his lip twitches upward, but he’s yelling at someone to cover him, too focused to turn his attention on me.

For one small second, he drops one hand from the controller and gives my foot a squeeze, and it’s a gesture that makes the coldest parts of me fill with warmth.

Serena sent me the medical documents yesterday.

Dad’s getting worse, but I don’t think it’s as bad as she believes it to be.

She’s worried, I get that, but based on everything I read—he’s just in a really, really bad flare-up.

Who is to say how bad he’ll be when it’s over?

Only time will tell. But, thankfully, I see no reason I have to jump on a plane just yet.

It’s quite the relief. Selfish relief.

“Give me fifteen, boys,” Carter says shortly after, pulling his headset off his head. He glances at me, squeezing my feet with both hands now. “How’s it going over there?”

I flash him a smile, leaning against the armrest. “Having the time of my life.”

Worry etches across his face. “Are you bored? Shit, sorry, we can?—”

“—Carter, I’m kidding. I crashed your party. I’m just happy to be here.”

“You didn’t crash shit,” he tells me, pushing his thumbs into the soles of my feet. I resist the urge to moan, swallowing it before it escapes. “Open door policy, Red. You know that.”

I do know that, but it still feels weird.

I’ve grown to become an actual part of his life.

Or, at least I feel like I have. On certain days, it feels like my corner, the one that is usually only inhabited by Whitney and Autumn, has a third person standing in it.

Blond, buzzed hair, sparkly blue eyes, and a smirk that the devil uses to lure women straight to hell.

There are still days when I feel utterly alone.

I look back at that corner and it’s dark and empty and full of cobwebs.

Sometimes, if I squint hard enough, I can catch the outline of two people.

Two girls who I raised and love. But they vacated that corner long ago.

After they left, I put up the caution tape and the ‘do not enter’ signs and refused to let anybody, sparkling eyes or not, stand in that corner with me.

That’s a darkness that I have to face alone, even if it kills me.

“Want to go and get some dinner?” Carter asks, stretching his arms out behind him.

The movement makes his blue T-shirt rise up on his body, exposing the skin above the waistline of his sweats.

There’s a soft line of blonde hair there, fair and almost missable, but it makes my throat feel thick nonetheless.

“I’d prefer to hibernate here,” I admit.

He nods, dropping his arm along the back of the couch. “We can do that. What are you feeling tonight?”

I pretend to think about it for a second. “Sushi.”

“Why’d I even ask?”

“It’s better to ask than to assume,” I say, poking him with my foot. He captures it before I can press too hard, and goes back to digging his thumbs into the sole. “You know what they say about assuming.”

“I get called an ass regardless, so I don’t really give a shit what they say,” he grumbles. “Alright. Sushi, it is. Do you want to watch a movie or something?”

I rest into the cushions a bit more, letting out a dreamy sigh at the feeling of his fingers. “Don’t let me take you away from your game. I have a book upstairs calling my name.”

“Bring it down here,” he says, dragging his thumb down the length of my sole. A little sound escapes me then, and Carter stiffens a bit, but his touch doesn’t ease up. “Sit with me.”

“Yeah?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

We eat our sushi together, exchanging what we think will be the best last bite with one another.

I judge Carter for his option. Hard. He picks a California roll that is nearly falling apart, but his eyes light up when I give him the most beautiful piece of my dragon roll, with the perfect amount of sauce drizzled on top.

He takes it with wonder all over his face, like he is honoured, and it makes me smile so hard that I lean into him for a second longer than I typically would have.

When he continues to stare at it, like he’d rather frame it and hang it on the wall than eat it, I slide onto my knees and bring my hand to the back of his neck.

I take the piece from his hand, lifting it to his mouth.

Our eyes meet, and I can’t fight my smile. “Open.”

And he does, his eyes never leaving mine.

I place the roll on his tongue, studying his face when he pulls it into his mouth. My hand is still on his neck, our eyes burning into each other, and then he lets out a deep, rough moan of approval. It sends a strange juxtaposition of heat and shivers through my body.

I smile, letting out a breathy laugh, my thumb brushing against the nape of his neck. His hand slides around me, wrapping his fingers around my ankle in a light, lazy touch.

I don’t know why I do it. I shouldn’t. Something about this moment is just so…mundane.

So, with our faces already so close together, I lean down and kiss him. It’s soft and gentle, and a question mark at the end of whatever this arrangement is. Dire situations only, remember? Yet, every situation feels dire lately. Like if I don’t kiss him, I’ll end up gasping for air within seconds.

I pull back just enough, his finger running along my ankle. He opens his heavy lids, blue eyes burning into my face.

“Dire situation,” he grumbles, as if reading my mind. “I was choking. ”

“On the perfect last bite?” I ask quietly, and then shrug. “There are worse ways to go.”

He smiles gently, like there are one million other things running through his head right now. With his eyes still melting into mine, his head still tilted back against the couch, he wets his bottom lip with his tongue.

“Come here.”

His hand leaves my ankle. It slides around the back of my head instead, pulling me back down to his mouth.

It's another simple kiss. Easy. Patient.

There is no rush, just the soft, lazy sweep of our mouths.

I could easily slide myself into his lap, press myself against him, and take this a step further.

I could make rule number four-point-five a thing.

“Mm,” he mumbles when I pull away. “Alright. I’ve been saved.”

“Yeah?” I whisper, still not moving too far.

He nods, but he closes the distance between us again anyway, kissing me gently one more time. “Unless your professional opinion is that I need more medical attention?”

I smile, smoothing my thumb over his bottom lip.

My eyes flicker back to his, and we study each other in a more intimate way than we ever have.

I think we both know we’re teetering the line each time we do this.

That every single time we kiss, both in public and privately, the fine print of our contract gets blurrier and blurrier.

Kissing him is nice. I find myself wanting to kiss him more often than not.

I find myself wanting to be around him more often than not, too, both on good days and bad.

When I got that call from Serena? My fingers itched to text Carter, to ask him if I could sleep over, to beg him to watch movies with me and make me laugh until I forget the mess waiting for me at home .

“Declan and Penny are having an engagement party in a couple of weeks.”

I nod. I received an invite separate from being Carter’s plus one. I guess Penny and I are actually friends now. It’s one of the many benefits that have come from this arrangement with Carter.

“Will you come with me? Be my date?” he asks, eyes skimming my face, thumb brushing my side.

“Of course. Engagement parties are a main part of my Mrs. Faux Forkerro duties.”

Carter’s mouth tightens a bit. He dips his chin. “Good. It’s my last chance to weasel my way into the wedding party.”

I drop my hands from his skin, sliding back to the cushion beside him.

“You’re in the wedding party, Carter,” I remind him, patting his thigh. “You’re his best friend. He just wants you to grovel a bit.”

“I don’t let my people down. That’s not like me.”

I smile softly. Perplexing, this man. So complex. “He knows that.”

Carter’s throat bobs, a haunted look washing over his face. “Is Sweets mad at me?”

Hard exterior, softest interior.

I shake my head. “No. She just knew how excited Declan was for your reaction, so it broke her heart a bit for him.”

Carter winces, his eyes shutting in regret.

“I’m sorry.”

Carter’s eyes crack open. “You’re sorry? For what?”

“I know that it all happened because of our fight.”

“My mistakes aren’t yours, Red,” he murmurs. His eyes are glued to mine. “My behaviour is my own responsibility, alright?”

I nod, but I still feel a sense of guilt that has bothered me since that night. I know how hard Carter rides for his friends, how loyal he is. I know how much it hurts him to carry this.

“I have an idea.”

Carter’s brows raise. He nods to indicate he’s listening.

“I’ve spoken to Penny a lot about life in Canada. I know the dynamic Declan has with his friends. If you want him to forgive you completely, I think I have a pretty good plan.”

Carter blinks, but the longer he looks at me, the deeper his frown sinks. “Why does this sound like a bad idea already?”

I peer up at him with a face full of innocence. “Are you against public humiliation?”