He pauses, and I can’t tear my gaze away from him. He’s breathing heavily, and he looks…angry. But he also looks sad, and that’s the part that hurts me the most.
“But I want to change for you, Stel. I want to be here for you. I want to be with you, always. I want to go with you to your parents’ house and tell them about us. I want to ask for your father’s permission to be with you, and if he tells me I don’t deserve you, then I’ll prove to him—and you—that I do.”
I can’t imagine him doing that, or how my father might react. My heart feels like it’s in my throat and I part my lips, but nothing comes out.
“Do you want that?” he asks, his voice straining. “Do you want me?”
“I—” My throat is so dry, I have to swallow twice before I can get the words out. “I don’t know.”
He throws his hands up in the air, hopelessness written all over him. “How did I know you’d say something like that? It’s as if you don’t believe you’re worthy of a relationship, Stella. I know when shit gets tough, you bail. That’s just your way. But maybe you could change—for me. I’m willing to change for you. I want to change for you. I want this. I want us.”
Panic rises within me and I tamp it down. I’m handling this all wrong. He’s not reacting the way I thought he might. I figured he’d be angry, cursing me out. I didn’t plan on him being so…real.
So raw.
“I warned you from the start,” I tell him, my voice trembling. “I don’t do serious relationships.”
He shoots me an incredulous look, clearly annoyed. “Give me a fucking break. I said the same damn thing, yet here I am standing in front of you with my heart in my hands trying to give it to you. And you’re stomping all over it.”
His words make me uncomfortable. And defensive. “How was I supposed to know you’d catch feelings?” Oh great, now I sound like an asshole teenager.
I need to quit while I’m ahead.
“I don’t know, I thought we wanted the same thing. I guess it’s on me for not telling you how I felt. I assumed you were feeling the same way.” He rests his hands on his hips, still standing in front of me with just the T-shirt and boxer briefs on, but somehow he appears completely in command. In control.
He knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to ask for it, even though I just rejected him.
I’m an idiot. A complete idiot.
“I guess you should go,” he says and I nod, turning away from him.
My feet feel like they’re made of steel. I don’t want to leave the room. I don’t want to leave him.
“Close the door behind you,” he murmurs as I walk away, and without another word I exit his room, doing exactly what he says. Closing the door behind me.
On him.
On us.
Twenty-Seven
It’s Sunday morning, which means it’s Sunday brunch time with my friends. I wasn’t going to go at first. I’ve been miserable since my conversation with Carter Tuesday night, moving through my days as if in a fog. Or more like a zombie. I get from Point A to Point B and I’m not even sure how. I go to work, but I move like a robot. Uncaring. Unfeeling.
That’s me. Stella the robot.
But once I confessed to Sarah that Carter and I were done, she told me I needed to be with friends during this tough time. When I tried to beg out of meeting up with them, telling her that I was too tired because of work, she became adamant, demanding that I show up.
So here I am, on a beautiful Sunday spring morning at ten o’clock, entering the restaurant that we always have brunch at, a quaint little spot right on Ocean Avenue. Down the street from Sweet Dreams and only a little over a block away from the beach.
Looks like I’m the last to arrive, since every chair is filled with the exception of one, right next to Eleanor.
Great. Eleanor. My most romantic and sensitive friend. She’ll take one look at me, mention Carter’s name, and I’ll be crying buckets in seconds.
I need a mimosa. In fact, I need to make that request, stat.
“Have you guys already ordered drinks?” I ask as I sit down. I don’t even bother greeting everyone, which is not my usual style.
They all look at each other with confusion and Caroline is the one who answers me. “I ordered mimosas for everyone.”
“Oh thank God.” The utter relief I feel has me sagging in my chair. “It’s been a terrible week.”
“So I’ve heard,” Caroline says cryptically before she shoots a mysterious glance in Sarah’s direction.
Worry fills me. What did she mean by that? Did she talk to Sarah? Or worse, did she talk to Carter? Oh God, did Carter tell her that we’ve been sleeping together? And why do they call it that anyway? Sleeping together? When we were together in my bed, there was very little sleeping going on…
Just thinking of being with Carter leaves my enter body aching.
I’m a mess.
“Your eyes are so red,” Eleanor observes with a little tsk, reaching out to lightly rest her hand on my arm. “You weren’t out drinking last night, were you?”
How would she like it if I told her I was at home crying last night? I’d probably earn some major sympathy for that admission. “I’ve not been sleeping well lately.”
“Why is that?” The sneaky look on her face tells me she’s making some assumptions. “Doesn’t have to do with a certain man you’re living with, does it?”
“Sshh.” I kick her under the table and incline my head in Caroline’s direction, who’s sitting across from us. “I don’t want her to hear us.”
“Hear you two what?” Caroline asks, pinning us with her blue gaze. I never realized until this very moment that Caroline’s eyes are just like her brother’s.
Big and blue and all-seeing.
“Nothing.” I smile. Wave my hand. “We might be planning super-secret bridal shower stuff.”
Ugh. That is the last thing I want to talk about. Weddings and showers and happiness and bullshit.
“Ooh, that sounds interesting.” Caroline smiles. “Do tell.”
“If we tell you, then it isn’t a secret any longer,” Eleanor says, and that launches into an entire discussion about bridal shower details and how it’s coming up soon. I’m in charge of the party, along with Sarah, and when Sarah tells me we need to get together ASAP to discuss some details, I know I’ve been a shit friend who’s wallowing in her own sad feelings.
“Maybe we can talk about it after brunch?” I suggest.
“I wish I could, but I have to meet up with Jared,” Sarah says with a slight frown. “Maybe later this week?”
“Sure.” I nod, wishing we could get it over with and talk about the stupid shower today. Just thinking about Caroline’s upcoming wedding makes me nervous.
I’ve been a bundle of nerves all week, worried about this and that and everything. When I came home Wednesday after work, Carter had moved all of his stuff out, and I have no idea where he went, or who he moved in with. I didn’t dare ask anyone if they knew where he was, not even Caroline, though she probably thinks it’s odd I haven’t spoken to her about Carter’s leaving at all.