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“Your lawyer sounds like a good one?” Ian remarks before he sits down next to me.
My smile widens as I think about Donovan. “Is that because the two of you went on a hot date the other night?” I tease. After introducing them both last week when Donovan came past the hospital for me to sign some forms, they hit it off, and I am dying to hear how it went.
“Hmmm… maybe. He was the perfect gentleman,” Ian says, his smile growing wider, and I laugh.
“So? Is there going to be a second date?” I pry. Even though my love life is in a flaming hole of doom doesn’t mean I don’t love hearing about the love others find. Because I still believe in love. Apparently, it is something that just doesn’t happen to me.
“We are going out later this week, in fact.” Picking up the files, he stands again. I push Daniel's visit to the back of my mind as I stand alongside him as Ian begins to tell me all about his romantic night, and we get back into work mode.
It is the only way I know how to survive.
27
Carter
Standing at her front door, I roll my neck, nerves settling in the pit of my stomach. What if she won't see me? What if she tells me to walk away and not come back? I look around the outside of her place. Having never been here before, I didn’t really know what to expect, but a warehouse conversion in the funky part of town wasn't it.
I pictured a large house, with a big garden for Ivy, and a whole lot of flowers behind a white picket fence. This is secure, locked up tight, and lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. As I press the doorbell, I wonder if she is even home.
I press the button again, but then I hear her.
“Carter?” she asks in surprise, and I turn and look up, eyeballing the camera where she is no doubt watching me from.
“Cat,” I say, not removing my eyes. I hear her sigh in defeat, and the door clicks, signifying she has unlocked it.
So it is not all lost. Hope blooms in my chest.
I fucked up once, and I am not doing it again.
Walking into the large foyer, then across to a door, I get ready to knock. But before I can, she opens it.
“What are you doing here?” she asks as she opens it, and goddamn is she breathtaking. No makeup, hair in a topknot, jeans that hug her curves, and a white t-shirt that I want to rip off her body with my bare hands. But without makeup on, her bruise is more visible, and I am already feeling the anger at someone hitting her creeping up my back.
“I want to talk,” I tell her, staying calm in my request.
“We really have nothing to talk about, Carter. You—” I cut her off before she can get too far, not willing to have a replay of yesterday.
“I know what I did, and it is something that I will regret for the rest of my life. Can we talk for a minute? Please?” I all but beg her, and I see her soften a little before she gives me a small nod and steps back from the door, holding it open for me.
“Ivy is asleep, so let’s go to the kitchen,” she says, and I follow her. Her space is nice, homey and refreshing, with lots of photos of Ivy, Maggie, and her. I spot Ivy’s school bag and uniform near the table, the TV flickering in the living room. A stack of paperwork sits on the coffee table next to a glass of red wine, and I just know she was relaxing on the sofa, going through those papers, before I arrived. Clearly, she works all hours, and I admire her work ethic.
She walks into the kitchen, which is spotless and large, and I can imagine her and Ivy cooking together here as she leans her back against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest.
“What do you want?” she asks, not offering me a fucking inch.
“You,” I answer, without any hesitation, as I slowly take steps to be closer to her.
She huffs and rolls her eyes, her hands unfolding and then perching on her hips.
“Carter...”
“Cat, I am an idiot.”
“No truer words have ever been spoken,” she bites back to me in a murmur, and I smile a little. I like her sass; it means she gives a shit, that there’s still something inside her that wants me too. And at least she is not throwing things at me, or screaming to get out of her house.
“I want to try again.” The statement feels foreign coming from my mouth, but I have practiced this all fucking day, and I want to get it right.
“Carter, I think you should go back to New York.” Even though the words sting, I know that she doesn’t really mean it. The heat we had before, it’s still there, and we both know it.
