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“I took a picture of it. Here.” Carter hands his phone to Joe and my stomach clenches when I realize he’s been looking at it all this time.
I glance at Dina, but she looks as lost for words as I feel. Her eyes are clouded with worry and darting between him and me.
Joe gasps, but it’s not awe in his eyes when he looks up at me. It’s pity, but then, he catches himself and smiles, but it’s thin and doesn’t reach his eyes.
I feel like being stripped naked. I painted it for him. It’s ours. Now that we’re not - or can’t be - what we were in that picture, it feels wrong to share it.
I glance around the room and am grateful that Jack and Porsha are engrossed in conversation and oblivious to what’s happening here.
“Wow, Beth. This is incredible. And huge. You paint those other ones so fast. This must have taken a long time,” Joe says but his eyes are tinged with concern and he’s looking at Carter who’s staring at the floor now that his phone isn’t in his hands.
Carter just looks at me, and his expression is blank in way that makes my gut twist.
I’ve had enough of whatever is going on with him and clearly he doesn’t care who sees.
“Carter, what’s wrong?” I demand.
“Nothing,” he says, but the dour cast to his voice tells a different story.
“Joe, Dina - I have this great book on the history of Crown Heights in my library, I’d love to show you,” Penn says and Joe blinks at her in confusion before he smiles and stands.
“I’d love to see it, lead the way.” His exaggerated eagerness is nearly comical. But when he smiles reassuringly at me before he curls his lip at Carter, I want to cry.
“What’s the matter? Did you have a fight?” Jack scoffs, and drops down on the couch next to Carter, scoops a handful of almonds from the bowl in front of him and pops one into his mouth.
“Why are you such an asshole?” Porsha glowers at him.
He glares right back. “At least I’m not sitting here pretending that this isn’t fucking weird.” He turns to look at me, his expression dispassionate.
He stands. “I’m going to smoke a joint. Porsha, you’re terrible company. But, since you’re the only one who hasn’t taken the hint that we’re giving them space, I’m inviting you to join me.”
“How anyone in the history of people has ever found you charming is beyond me,” Porsha says, but stands. She squeezes Carter’s shoulder and follows Jack out onto the small balcony.
The air pulses with tension and I know I wasn’t misreading that whatever he’s angry about has to do with me.
“Carter?”
“Yeah?” He responds like he’s preoccupied but, he’s just sitting there, staring at his hands. He’s hurting, I can feel it. I walk over and sit next to him.
“Are you okay?” I ask quietly so that no one else can hear.
He leans over and presses his lips to my ear “I hate sitting across from you.”
My breath hitches, each word hitting my heart like an iron tipped whip, confirming my fears.
I lean back, needing to see the truth in his eyes. His eyes are green points of pain and possessive need and my lacerated heart slams against my chest.
I lay my hand on his arm and he shifts away from me.
It’s like a swift kick in heart. “What’s wrong?” I ask him, reeling from his demeanor.
“I thought I could do this, I can’t.” His voice is flat, his expression bleak and cold starts to seep into my chest.
“What can’t you do?” I ask, even though I know. I want him to say it.
His head is bowed, the dark waves of hair that crown it are a siren song for my fingers - they love that slide of the feathery silk between them. I reach for him, longing, yearning, foolishly forgetting that I shouldn’t touch him like that.
But he hasn’t forgotten. The sharp, swift shake of his head stays my hand right before it touches him.
