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Chapter 4
Trixie
His fingers tighten around mine. “I’ve waited so long for this,” he says, his voice rough with emotion. “For you to look at me like this.”
The waiter appears, breaking the moment. We order rigatoni for me, something with chicken for Carter, and a bottle of red wine that the owner insists on bringing personally. When we’re alone again, the silence between us hums with everything left unsaid.
“How are you really?” Carter asks, his thumb still tracing circles on my hand. “Tonight, away from everyone else?”
I take a deep breath, considering the question. “I’m good. Better than I expected to be.” I pause, gathering my thoughts. “Being back at work today… it felt right. Like I was reclaiming a piece of myself.”
“Matthew said you looked happy when you came out of the hospital.” His eyes never leave mine. “He drove by earlier to check. He was worried about you.”
I should be annoyed by their surveillance, but instead, a steady warmth settles in my chest. “I was happy. I am happy.” I squeeze his hand. “Especially right now.”
The wine arrives, and Carter pours us each a glass. We clink them together, the soft chime ringing in the intimate space between us.
“To new beginnings,” he says, his eyes holding mine over the rim of his glass.
“To being brave enough to take them,” I add.
The wine is smooth and dark, warming me from the inside, sparking a feeling that’s both alive and raw. I peek over my glass at Carter, that rugged devil basking in the candlelight. Tonight, he seems different, like he’s finally let some of those walls slip away.
“You’re staring,” he says, his voice low and teasing, a cocky grin tugging at his lips.
“You’re unbelievably handsome,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. The words hang in the air between us, far too raw and honest. I can feel a sudden heat rising in my own cheeks.
A flush crawls up his neck, hiding under his shirt collar. I’ve never seen Carter blush before, and the sight makes my own breath hitch. This man, who can take down guys twice his size, is blushing because I called him handsome.
“I never know what to say when you say things like that,” he confesses, sipping his wine.
“Just say ‘thank you,’” I tease with a grin.
His laugh is a low rumble, vibrating through the space between us. “Thank you, then.”
Our food arrives, steaming and fragrant with garlic and herbs. I dig into my rigatoni and close my eyes, savoring the creamy, tangy explosion of flavors.
“This is amazing,” I murmur, not caring how I sound.
When I open my eyes, Carter’s watching me with a look that sends a shiver over my skin. There’s something dark and heated in his gaze that makes my breath hitch.
“What?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious.
“Nothing,” he says, clearing his throat and looking down at his plate. “You just look happy. Really happy. I like seeing it.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks. We eat in a silence that grows thicker by the second. I’m tuned into every move he makes, every brush of his knee against mine. I sneak glances at him when I think he’s not looking, but he always catches me, his eyes warm and knowing.
“So,” he begins, putting down his fork, “tell me something about yourself I don’t know.”
I twirl pasta around my fork, thinking. “I wanted to be a ballerina once.”
His eyebrows lift. “Really?”
“Yeah. I took lessons until I was twelve, then I shot up three inches in one summer and my teacher said I’d be too tall.” I shrug, sipping my wine. “That’s when I found nursing.”
“You’d have made a beautiful ballerina,” he says softly.
The compliment makes my heart skip. “What about you? Tell me something I don’t know.”
