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Even as I keep replaying his words over and over in my head.
Sam helps me hold a mug of tea, and her smile is gentle and understanding. “You can stay here with us. This is your home anyway.”
“I don’t want to impose,” I whisper, pausing to blow on the steam rising from the mug. “Are you sure Tristan will be okay with it?”
Sam’s smile doesn’t falter. “I’m sure.”
I glance away from her, and I hear Anita and Tristan murmuring something to Carter. I can’t see him anymore, but I can imagine how agitated and unsettled he is. He and I don’t like being apart from each other, no matter the circumstances.
But Anita is right. Too much has been said, and none of it can be taken back.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Anita steps out of the house and loops her arm through Carter’s. I twist to watch her drag him across the lawn and into her house. My last glimpse of Carter is when Anita urges him through the front door. He glances over his shoulder, and our eyes meet from across the distance.
I’m the first one to look away, and it almost kills me.
When Tristan lets the door fall shut, it clicks with such finality that I start crying again. Gently, Sam pries the mug out of my hands and sets it down. Then she drapes an arm over my shoulders and leads me to the guest room on the bottom floor. There, she draws back the covers and pats the mattress. I throw myself onto the bed, curl in on myself, and squeeze my eyes shut.
Are Carter and I going to be able to come back from this?
For the first time since declaring my love for him, I realize I can’t picture a future together, not as clearly as I used to. As long as Carter blames me for not remembering to put the patch back in and as long as I keep holding Carter accountable for the pile of dead bodies, neither of us is going to get anywhere.
As much as I hate to admit it, I can’t imagine Carter walking away. And I doubt I’ll be able to settle into a routine as long as he thinks the worst of me.
The bed dips and creaks, and I smell Sam’s fruity perfume seconds before she wraps her arms around me. I curl up into her side and sniff. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”
Sam strokes my back. “It’s what sisters are for. Don’t apologize.”
I lift tear-stained eyes up to hers. “He hates me, Sam. He thinks I got pregnant on purpose, to entrap him or something.”
Sam’s eyes widen, and her grip tightens. “He said that?”
I sniff and use the back of my hand to dash the tears away. “He said that I should’ve remembered to have the implant put back in and that it’s my fault we’re in this mess.”
Sam’s expression falls. “Oh, Isabella. I’m so sorry. I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”
I hiccough. “But he did. You should’ve seen him when he was talking to me. He looked so angry and… It was so horrible.”
Like I was a problem he hadn’t foreseen.
Carter and I have been through a lot together, but he’s never looked at me like that.
Sam runs her fingers through my hair. “It’s been a few hectic weeks, Isabella. I’m sure Carter didn’t mean any of it. He’s just lashing out because he’s scared, and he has no idea how to handle this. You said yourself that Carter isn’t a man who likes to lose control.”
“He isn’t.”
Sam continues to stroke my back. “In the span of a few weeks, he’s realized that his ally is a snake backed by the mayor and a bitchy journalist. He’s had to fight not one but two of the biggest crime families, and he had to do it all while you were out there, in hiding, because of him.”
I sniff. “None of those things were his fault.”
“Exactly, but he tried to fix things anyway. Carter hasn’t caught a break in a long, long time, and for a man like that, to watch things spiral so quickly…”
I swallow. “I get what you’re trying to say.”
“And then add a baby to the mix,” Sam continues in a softer voice. “Now, I’m not saying he handled it well. He absolutely should’ve done a better job, and we can bust his ass for it later, but for now, I think it’s better if you leave him alone.”
My heart misses a beat. “Really?”
“He needs some time to reflect and figure out what the hell he wants to do,” Sam points out with a frown. “Arguing and screaming at each other isn’t going to get him there. Neither is pointing fingers and playing the blame game.”
