Page 121 of Stranger to Love

"I am hanging up now," I said, desperately trying to scramble back to some kind of moral high ground. "And I don't even feel bad about leaving you to run the Christmas Eve shift on your own anymore. You deserve the holiday rush for being a total fucking arsehole."

"Hey! That’s low, even for you," Mia squawked, but she was still giggling. "Fine, go be a pampered princess. Just don't forget us little people when you're living in your mansion."

"Goodbye, Mia."

I ended the call and tossed my phone onto the bed, staring at it like it was a live fucking grenade. Mommy. The word echoed in my head, feeling illicit and heavy. I could practically hear Carrie’s low, dark hum in response, imagining her fingers tightening in my hair as she rewarded me for the sheer audacity of it. Oh, fuck me.

I was so lost in the "what if" that I didn't hear the front door open downstairs. I didn't hear the familiar, confident click of boots on the stairs.

I only realised I was not fucking alone when the door to my room pushed open and Carrie stood there, looking effortlessly powerful in a tailored wool coat, her eyes immediately locking onto mine.

"You look flushed, Alex," she said, her voice as smooth as expensive bourbon. She closed the door behind her with a soft, final click. "I hope you haven't been getting yourself worked up while I was away."

I sat up quickly, tugging the hem of my oversized t-shirt down over my joggers, which had ridden up a little too high for my current fucking state of mind. I shook my head, offering her a shaky smirk. "Absolutely not. I was just... talking to Mia."

Carrie didn't look convinced, but she didn't press. Instead, she walked over to the bed, the scent of the winter air still clinging to her coat. She leaned down and captured my lips in a kiss that was both a greeting and a claim. "I missed you," she murmured against my mouth.

I leaned into her, my hands finding her waist. "I missed you too. Did you get everything done that you needed to?"

Carrie nodded, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw. "The university is sorted, and the few businesses I represent are confident in their finances over the holidays. I’ve threatened them all with a very public downfall if they dare disturb me for the next few days."

I smirked, the heat from earlier still humming in my veins. "You’re so powerful, Dr. Carter."

She let out a low hum, her teeth grazing my bottom lip as she nibbled on it. "Do you like it when I’m powerful, darling?"

My body answered for her with a violent fucking shiver, my eyes fluttering shut as I melted into her. I was about to pull her down onto the bed when the heavy thud of footsteps from across the landing broke the spell. I heard my dad’s voice, low and encouraging, as he helped Mum navigate the stairs for the first time today.

Carrie pulled back just enough to hold my face firmly in her hands, her eyes searching mine. "It is only eleven in the morning," she said, her tone playful yet commanding. "What exactly are the Christmas festivities I’m in for today?"

"Well," I rasped, trying to get my breathing back under fucking control. "Usually, it’s a pancake brunch as a treat, and then mostly just drinking, snacking, and watching Christmas films until we pass out."

Carrie kissed me again, a soft, lingering touch. "That sounds perfect. And just in time for my first present to arrive."

As if on cue, the doorbell echoed through the house. I looked at her, my eyes narrowing with suspicion. Oh, for fuck's sake.

Carrie grinned—a rare, wicked expression that told me exactly what was happening. "I was perfectly serious about that sofa, Alex.”

When we reached the bottom of the stairs, the scene was pure, organised fucking chaos. The front door was propped wide open, and our old, sagging sofa—the one I’d spent half my fucking life on—was already being hoisted out the door by two men in professional uniforms. The dingy armchair that Dad practically lived in followed right behind it, disappearing into the cold December air.

Dad was standing in the middle of the hallway, looking completely fucking bewildered, his hands shoved into his pockets as he watched thirty years of furniture vanish in thirty seconds. Mum was leaning against the kitchen counter, her hand over her mouth, watching the transformation in total awe.

Then, the new arrivals began to appear.

It was not one, but two fucking sofas. They weren’t the sleek, ultra-modern Italian leather pieces I’d come to expect from Carrie’s own taste. Instead, they were deep, plush, and upholstered in a soft, charcoal-grey fabric that looked like a fucking cloud. She’d clearly put thought into it—choosing something that matched my parents' more relaxed, cozy style while still looking ten times more expensive than anything else we fucking owned. They fitted the small living room perfectly, facing each other in a way that made the space feel like a high-end lounge rather than a cramped terrace house.

The delivery team assembled them with terrifying speed, clicking the legs into place and plumping the oversized cushions while we all stood there like fucking statues.

Carrie stepped forward, her hands tucked elegantly into the pockets of her coat as she surveyed the room. She looked at my stunned parents, a small, satisfied smile playing on her lips.

"Merry Christmas," she said simply, as if that one fucking phrase was supposed to explain the fact that she’d just staged a hostile—but very comfortable—takeover of their living room.

"Caroline," Dad rasps, finally finding his voice. He looked at the new sofas, then back at his old armchair, which was currently being loaded into a van. "I... I don't know what to say. You didn't have to do all this."

"I know I didn't," Carrie replied smoothly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "But the crazy amount of Christmas films Alex has planned for this afternoon requires a certain level of comfort. And I believe Karen deserves a proper place to rest her legs while she recovers."

Mum looked like she was about to cry again, but Carrie was already moving toward her, gently guiding her over to the new furniture. "Sit, Karen. Tell me if it’s firm enough."

I caught Carrie's eye as she passed me, and the wink she gave me was so full of I do what I want energy that I couldn’t help but laugh. She was a fucking force of nature. And as I watched my dad tentatively sit down, realising for the first time in a decade that he was not going to sink through to the floor, it hit me: I was never going to win an argument with this woman.