39. Is That A Mariachi Band?
OLIVIA
I wake up this morning only slightly miserable, yet significantly grouchier than I have been lately. It’s not because I’m spending Valentine’s Day alone, but because it’s Carter’s birthday and I can’t be with him. He’s been gone for a week and we still have five more days to go.
Twelve days . It’s their longest away stretch and I’ve hated every second of it.
It means I’ve been up until midnight almost every night and getting up a half hour early every morning, because FaceTime is fairly limited on workdays and game nights.
It means I finally understand why Cara gets so lonely.
We’ve been eating and drinking away our sorrows together for far too many days.
But today Carter is twenty-eight and all I get to do is wish him a happy birthday from behind a screen.
I check my phone while I brush my teeth.
I was exhausted last night, which means I begged Carter to chat right after the game so I could go to bed early.
He reluctantly agreed and now I’ve got a text from Emmett from late last night that says Ur boyfriend is a fucking goof .
The attached picture is of Carter at the bar, grinning from ear to ear, a beer in one hand and two deep fried pickles in the other, wearing one of those I HEART NY shirts, which makes sense, since they played in New York last night.
Except instead of I HEART NY , it says I HEART MY GF .
My brother’s sent me an article that contains several similar pictures from different vantage points. The only word he’s attached to his message? Loser .
My phone starts ringing while I’m grinning like a lunatic at it, so I rinse my mouth out and head back to the bedroom as I answer the call.
“Morning, birthday boy.”
Carter’s naked. From the waist up, at least. That’s all I can see, his broad chest, the smattering of dark hair that he scratches his fingers through while yawning, giving me a sleepy, bleary-eyed smile. “Happy Valentine’s Day, beautiful girl.”
“How was your night?”
He pouts. “Boring, ’cause you went to bed early.”
“It didn’t look boring,” I reply, rifling through my closet.
It’s pink and red day at school today. I’m not much of a pink girl so my options are limited.
I settle on a red T-shirt dress, propping my phone up on my dresser and moving to stand in front of it as I start peeling off my pajamas.
Carter makes me get dressed in front of him every morning.
It’s annoying, but also oddly endearing.
I enjoy his facial expressions and the way he stumbles over his words.
“You, uh…” He swipes his tongue across his lower lip before clearing his throat. “You didn’t, um…yeah. Oh. That’s a nice bra. I love you.”
Giggling, I shimmy my panties over my hips. “I love you too.”
“Hey, Ollie!” I hear someone holler, and then Carter’s shrieking “No!” His face disappears, along with everything else, until all I see is black, and I hurry to pull on my dress and a pair of tights.
“Cover yourself, Ollie!” Carter screams. “ Incoming ! Incoming !”
The phone lifts to Garrett’s amused face. “Dang. Not even a bare shoulder.”
There’s an oomph as Garrett gets tackled, and a moment later, Carter emerges looking victorious.
“Sorry. He was supposed to be sleeping.”
“Can’t a guy get a little Valentine’s action around here?” Garrett throws his hands up in the air behind Carter.
“Yeah, her name was Reba, and you disappeared with her for about forty-five minutes last night.”
Garrett looks at Carter like he’s lost his mind. “ Reba ? Her name wasn’t Reba. Her name was…it was…Rrr…” He scratches his head with a guilty, gritty grin. “Rachel?”
“You guys are the worst.” I laugh, moving into the kitchen.
I’m careful to keep my phone trained away from the package of Oreos on my counter and the recipe lying next to it.
I found the most deliciously tempting recipe on Pinterest for an Oreo cake to celebrate Carter’s birthday when he gets home.
That’s about all I have planned, plus a homemade dinner.
What the hell do you get the man that has everything he could ever want or need, especially when your own funds are severely lacking?
He told me not to spend a single cent on him, but it’s eating at me. So far, I’ve framed a photo of us, got him a T-shirt with one of his self-proclaimed nicknames on it, and bought tickets to a VIP showing of the new live-action Disney movie, because it’s about all Carter talks about.
Cara’s been no help at all. She told me to take a naked picture of myself, blow it up to life-size, and hang it above his bed. I neglected to tell her that he has an entire album full of naked pictures of me already, and though I’m sure he’d enjoy it, I would not.
“Jason’s gonna pick you up for work today,” Carter says, smiling as he watches me shovel Corn Pops into my mouth.
“What?” I don’t need his driver to pick me up and I certainly don’t need to be arriving to school in a limo. “Why?”
“Because you shouldn’t drive yourself to work on Valentine’s Day.”
I cock a brow. “People have been doing it for years, Carter.”
“Yeah, well, your car sucks in the snow, I know it snowed a fuckton there last night, and I can’t be with you today, so humor me.”
“Bossy man,” I murmur, starting the kettle.
It feels like one of those days I need caffeine, but all I’ve got are several different kinds of decaffeinated teas.
Maybe a Starbucks run at lunchtime. I rub my temples and frown at the sting of pain there.
Lack of sleep—and lack of Carter—is exhausting and painful.
“Need a coffee this morning, pumpkin?” Carter sets the phone down and disappears, and all I can hear is the sound of water and tinkling. This man pees on the phone way too often. He groans deeply before I hear the toilet flush and the sound of the faucet.
“I think so. I’m so tired this week.”
“I keep you up too late. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I miss him too much to care. “Big plans for your birthday tonight?” They’re not playing tonight, just flying out to Chicago for their next game tomorrow. I assume that means—
“Oh, big plans, all right,” he says in his best bedroom voice, all gravel and husk. “ Huge plans. I’m gonna fuck my hand while you fu—”
“Jesus fucking Christ ,” someone grinds out. “There are three other people in this room right now, Carter!”
I’m slowly getting used to the fact that Carter says whatever the hell he wants, whenever the hell he wants to say it, and I’m getting better at it, really. But then he goes ahead and says things like this and all I can do is drop my head and slap a hand to my face.
“ Carter .”
“Sorry.” The way he says it lets me know he’s not actually sorry at all.
“I’m gonna spend the night in the hotel room on the phone with you.
That’s all I wanna do. Naked or clothed,” he adds, but the fire in his eyes tells me I’ll absolutely be naked.
Thousands of miles between us and he still has some sort of weird control over me.
“And the rest of us will be out getting drunk,” Adam tosses out.
Carter keeps me on the phone until we hear the knock on the door that lets me know Jason is here to pick me up.
He only lets me go once I’ve promised to call him the second I get home from work so that we can spend the whole night together.
He’s bossy, but there’s not a single bit of me that dislikes the idea of hanging out with him via video stream if that’s the only way we can be together on his birthday.
With my bag slung over my shoulder, I open the door to Jason. The bouquet of flowers he’s holding covers a good third of his body, and whatever he’s got in that cup and brown paper bag smells a lot like cinnamon and heaven.
“Carter texted that you needed coffee this morning. It’s a cinnamon bun latte and a cinnamon bun to go with it. He thought you’d like it, but suggested I tell you to drink half now and half later so that your stomach doesn’t hurt too much.”
My phone dings at that moment, and I pull it out to find a message from the man himself.
World’s Sexiest Man: happy valentine’s day, princess. i love u & miss u.
* * *
If you know Carter, and I think you do, you know he doesn’t stop there.
Oh no, why would he?
The second gift arrives after my first class. It’s a teddy bear wearing Carter’s jersey. Something to hug when I’m not there to wrap you in my arms , the card with it says.
The third gift comes partway through my second class.
It’s a bouquet of chocolate-covered strawberries, and the message tucked in the tiny envelope tells me he’s imagining licking the juices from the strawberries off my body.
I shove that note in my pocket real fast and share the strawberries with my junior girls.
The fourth gift comes right before I head to the staff room for lunch. It’s Jason again, and he’s got a bag of food for me and a box filled with leggings and yoga pants from Lululemon. Your ass looks too good in these to only have one pair , this note says . It’s a travesty.
I pray to all that is holy that’s the last one, but in true Carter fashion, he saves the most embarrassing gift for last.
“Madam.” Brad bows as he opens the gym doors.
“Bradley.” I eye him suspiciously as he gestures me into the gym. “Thank you.”
Him holding the door for me is the first clue that something isn’t right. The second clue is that the lights are off.
Heart racing, I scramble to flick them on, stopping short at the sight in front of me.
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “No. He didn’t.”
“He did.” Brad’s gaze gleams as he moves by me. “Hit it, boys!”
The gym erupts with music, the sound of guitars and violins and trumpets bouncing off the walls, and my jaw drops in horror.
It’s a mariachi band. A fucking mariachi band. Carter hired a fucking mariachi band to serenade me at school. No. This cannot be real.
But oh , it’s real. Very real .