47. Olivia’s Damn Tie
CARTER
“Oh shit. Fuck. Shit, shit, shit.”
I crack one sleepy lid and slam it closed the moment the sun tries to burn a hole right through my eyeball. “Baby?”
Sweeping an arm over the mattress, I register the emptiness. It’s warm still, like she was here a moment ago, and I can still hear her, but where is she?
“ Babyyy ,” I call again, thick and hoarse. “Come back to bed.”
Feet slap against tiles, and Olivia’s still spitting out all those curse words, which is oddly reminiscent of the way I woke on New Year’s Day.
“Stop it,” I whine, rolling over, burying my face in the pillow. “I don’t like it. It reminds me of the morning you left me.”
“Carter,” she cries, and I hear the toilet seat slam. “I’m not—” Her words die with her heave, but I don’t hear anything actually come out, and when I laugh, she starts screaming. “Are you seriously fucking—” heave , “—laughing at me—” double heave , “—right now?”
I flop onto my back, running a hand through my hair. My mouth is dry, my head is pounding, and while I feel like shit, I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy. “You gotta learn how to handle your alcohol better, Ollie girl.”
“ I’m five foot one !” she shrieks, then heaves. “I drank as much as you did!”
“Right. You could learn a thing or two from me.”
“I hate you,” she sobs into the toilet.
“You love the fuck out of me, princess.”
She doesn’t grace me with a response. Instead the toilet seat slams again, and then the water cranks. Steam billows out of the bathroom, and I finally roll up to sitting.
Everything hurts. The sunshine is way too fucking bright and there’s a twenty-pound rock tumbling around in my brain, slamming against my skull with every minuscule movement.
The time on my phone tells me it’s only 7:37 a.m., and we didn’t get home until after four, which means I’ve gotten something like three hours of sleep.
I bury my face in my hands and groan. Olivia and I are having the whole team over for lunch, families and friends, one shitshow that leads to another when we head downtown for dinner and drinks later tonight before a night out on the town with the boys.
“ Ollieee ,” I groan, climbing to my feet.
I scratch a hand over my torso and fist the base of my cock as I pad toward the running water in the bathroom.
“I’m sore, baby. I might feel better if you sucked my—” I fold my lips into my mouth to stop that laughter that’s begging for release when I pull open the foggy glass door in search of my girlfriend.
I find Olivia curled up on the shower floor, knees pulled to her chest, soaked curls plastered to her face, down her back. I’m pretty sure she’s crying, based on the redness of her eyes, but it’s difficult to be sure due to the water cascading from the showerhead.
“Oh, pumpkin. What’s wrong?”
Her wide brown eyes meet mine, and her mouth opens on a wail as I climb into the shower and take her in my arms.
“ I need chicken nuggets !”
* * *
“Oh fuck. Yeah, right there, baby. Harder.”
“What the shit is going on in there?” I hear Jeremy scream from the front hall. “You heard the front door open, right? You know I’m here?”
I lift my face off the living room rug. “Maybe you should knock instead of just walking in!”
Olivia snickers, little heels digging into the muscles below my shoulder blades. I bury my face in the soft rug and let out a guttural, gravelly groan.
“I’m leaving! We’re leaving! Jem, no ! Come back! Shield your eyes, little buddy !”
Little Jem comes toddling in on his chubby legs.
He’s recently picked up walking, though he mostly moves around like a tiny, drunk adult.
It’s hilarious and cute as hell. His face lights up when he spots his aunt perched on my back and he breaks into a super-wobbly run, diving straight for my ass, which he hugs to his face.
Olivia giggles and hops off my back as her brother cautiously enters the living room. “Hi, Jemmy,” she coos, scooping her nephew off me.
She pulls up his Vipers tee and smooches his belly before dropping him on my chest when I roll onto my back. He gives me a sloppy kiss before I toss him into the air and catch him in my arms. He smells so good, like fresh baby and coconut sunscreen.
Jeremy is shielding his eyes, which means he bangs his shin off the edge of the coffee table and keels over with a string of curses. Naturally, Alannah bursts through the front door at this moment, declaring he owes her five bucks.
When his gaze finds us, Jeremy sighs. “Oh thank God. You’re dressed.”
“I was walking on his back.” Olivia flicks his elbow before they hug each other.
He eyes me suspiciously. “Why?”
“Oh, I donno.” I climb to my feet with Jem in my arms. “Maybe ’cause I kicked some serious freaking ass last night and won the Stanley Cup.” I’m learning how not to swear around kids. It’s only sometimes successful.
“Yeah, you did!” Alannah shrieks, dashing into the room. I catch her around the waist with one arm when she leaps at me. I fucking love these kids. “That was the best game ever, Carter. I cried! Really, I did!”
“Really, she did,” Jeremy repeats with another long exhale. “She was hysterical.”
Alannah scowls as she slides down my body. “You cried like a baby, Daddy.”
“Did not.” I might believe him if it weren’t for the look on his face as his gaze slides across the living room, settling on the shiny cup sitting on the kitchen table. His shaky hands fly to his face. “Oh. My. God. It’s the…it’s the…” He whimpers, and I absolutely smirk.
I plop Jem in the cup and he giggles, smacking his hands down on it.
“Oh my God!” Kristin enters the living room at a walk, but skids into the kitchen at a run.
“Picture! I need a picture!” She throws one arm around me, pulling me close as she fishes her phone out of her purse.
“Congratulations, Carter. You were fantastic. You deserve it.” She snaps her fingers at Jem, trying to get his attention.
“Look at Mommy, Jemmy! Can you say cup? Cup! Cup, Jemmy!”
He’s for damn sure not saying cup, just babbling along, but he looks happy as hell, smiling up at her for all three hundred photos she seems to take in fifteen seconds.
Jem peers up at me with sparkling blue eyes, reaching his tiny hands out. “Cah-Cah.”
Kristin claps a hand to her mouth. “Oh. He said your name.”
“He did not,” Jeremy grumbles, reaching for Jem.
Jem frowns and grunts, wiggling out of his dad’s reach, making grabby hands at me. “ Cah-Cah !”
I might try to wipe the shit-eating grin off my face if I could, but it doesn’t seem that I can. I pick up Jem, smooshing my cheek against his as I stare his dad right in the eyes. “He definitely said my name. Guess that’s one more thing I win at in this life, Jeremy, isn’t it?”
Jeremy slaps a ten-dollar bill down in Alannah’s hand before he opens his mouth and unleashes that famous Parker Family fury.
* * *
“Carter.” Olivia’s head flops onto my shoulder as she whimpers. “I’m not sure I can make it through the rest of dinner. I need to go to bed.”
Her eyes are doing that dazed, glossy thing, tracking every movement slowly.
She’s also got that drunk perma-grin slapped on her face, and her cheeks have been pink for most of the day.
I feel like I need to take her home and put her to bed, but I sure as shit can’t drive, so I’m trusting my driver to take Olivia and Cara and a few of the other girls home tonight.
We’ve been drinking since noon, and though we all look fancy as hell, taking up over half of this upscale restaurant, most of us are well on the way to incoherent, some of us somehow thriving on absolutely zero sleep. Olivia is not one of those thriving folks.
I press my lips to her hair. It smells so good, like banana bread, and instead of the fluffy curls that normally hang down her back, it’s sleek and pin straight, nearly touching the dip in her back.
I wanna take her into the bathroom, wrap that dark hair around my fist, shove her over the sink, and fuck her until everyone in this restaurant knows what she sounds like when she comes around my cock.
“But I gave you nuggets.” My lips touch her ear. “And shower orgasms.”
Her lower lip slides between her teeth. “ Three shower orgasms.”
Winding my arm around her waist, I yank her closer. In addition to banana bread, she smells like beer and the tequila shots Cara keeps shit-talking her into taking. She’s so easily goaded it’s not funny.
No, wait. It’s funny as fuck.
“You want me to ditch these assholes and take you home so I can fuck you in every room of our house?”
The lawyer stopped by this morning, post-orgasms, to collect Olivia’s keys, and tomorrow the new owner moves in. That makes her officially mine, and my house hers. So, our house.
Her fingers walk slowly up my tie. “Too many rooms.”
“Sounds like a challenge to me. And you know how I feel about challenges.”
Olivia drags her tongue across her bottom lip as she winds the black silk around her fist and lifts one suggestive brow. “I like this tie, Mr. Beckett.”
My sword of thunder leaps to attention in my pants. “You do, do you? Let’s go home so I can show you what else I like to use it for.” I slap my hand over hers when it creeps under the table and lands on my bulge. “Keep it up and I’ll tie these grabby hands up too.”
“What the fuck are you two doing over there?” Cara slams another tequila shot down in front of Olivia before she sinks to the seat across from her.
Adam sighs, shoving his fingers through his hair. “Making me feel super single.”
“Agreed.” Garrett gestures to where our hands disappear. “There’s a fuckload of hands where we can’t see.”
“Gare-Bear.” Cara pushes his blond hair back. “You won the Stanley Cup last night. When us girls leave, you’re probably gonna have six different hands in your lap.”
His face floods with heat and he swats her hand away. “It’s a guys’ night.”
Cara snorts. “Yeah, okay.” She lifts her shot glass along. “Come on, Livvie.”