Chapter 9
SARAH
In this, the age of the internet, Carter and I decided we are unlikely to convince anyone we’re actually in love enough to get married without photographic proof, so tonight, he’s coming over for a photoshoot. Well, dinner first and then a photoshoot.
Nothing too fancy or professional. Just Anna and her iPhone.
We only need them to work for Instagram, and she’ll be able to handle that.
But I’m still having a terrible time deciding what to wear.
Anna said I need multiple outfits so it isn’t obvious all the photos were taken at the same time, but I can’t even come up with one.
Not to mention my hair. Should I wear it up or down? Glasses or contacts? These shouldn’t feel like monumental choices, but I can’t shake the feeling that if I get this wrong, this whole scheme will come crumbling down around me.
I reach into the back of my closet and pull out a box of sweaters I haven’t touched since I got here. The one on the top looks decent, so I shrug it on.
Annnnd no, it doesn’t look decent. I look like a square tomato.
I yank off the sweater and toss it onto the floor, then scoop up the pile of options I’ve amassed on my bed and carry it over to the main house in my jeans and tank top, my feet bare.
The winter air nips at my exposed skin, but it’s a short walk around the pool.
Honestly, I’m surprised I don’t fall in—I can hardly see over all the clothes I’m carrying—but I make it without incident and let myself into the kitchen, kicking the door closed behind me.
“I give up,” I say as I drop the clothes onto the kitchen table.
“I am completely incapable of making myself look hot enough to actually be married to a hockey player. He’s going to look incredible, and I’m going to look like a bridge troll in glasses that are too big for my face.
And do you see this?” I point at my forehead.
“This beach ball of a zit showed up this morning because of course it did. The one time I actually need to look good in a photo, I look like I’m seventeen and struggling with my T-zone. ”
Anna bites her lip like she’s trying really, really hard not to laugh. “Okay, maybe just take a breath,” she says. “And…” She clears her throat. “Say hi to Carter?”
I freeze, mortification making me all but completely immobile. I give my head the tiniest shake. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
Anna grimaces. “Not joking.”
I turn slowly, and there he is. Standing in the living room with Miles, looking every bit as gorgeous as I expected he would.
Heat spreads across my chest, and my heart starts pounding.
He’s here.
And he just heard every single word of my rant right down to the mention of my T-zone.
“You’re early,” I say.
He glances at his watch. “Am I?”
I pull my phone out of my back pocket and stare at the screen. It’s 6:40, which makes zero sense because the wall clock in my bedroom said it was 5:45 when I left the pool house.
Come to think of it, it is a little dark to still be 5:45.
Stupid clock. It must need new batteries. I’ve been so caught up in my own brain, I didn’t even notice.
“Okay, so you’re not early,” I say. “But I am very much late.”
Luckily, Anna comes to my rescue. “You know what? We’re going to figure this out.” She turns me toward the table and hoists the pile of clothes back into my arms before steering me toward her bedroom. “Miles, can you finish dinner?”
“I’ll help you, Daddy,” Poppy says. The last thing I see before disappearing down the hall is Carter lifting Olive into his arms.
“Well, that was a fun little freakout,” Anna says as soon as we’re alone.
I drop the clothes onto her bed, then faceplant beside the pile, groaning into her mattress. “I can’t believe that just happened.”
“If it’s any consolation, you looked adorable through the whole thing.”
I roll over and look up at her. “I doubt he even noticed. How could he notice anything but the giant zumor on my forehead?”
“Zumor?”
“A zit that feels like a tumor.”
She chuckles, then pulls on my hands until I’m sitting up. “It can’t be that bad,” she says, but then she takes my face and tilts it upward to get a closer look. “Okay, it is that bad. But we can airbrush it out. I’m a whiz with Instagram filters.”
“I don’t want to be airbrushed.”
“Do you want to look like a unicorn?”
I scowl at her, then drop back onto the mattress and pull a pillow over my face. “Can we just…cancel? Reschedule?”
“We cannot. You’re leaving for New York tomorrow, and he’s leaving the day after. It’s now or never, kid.”
I toss off the pillow and meet her gaze. “What if I’m really, really scared?”
Her expression softens. “Scared enough not to go through with it?”
I think about leaving Georgia, and my resolve hardens. “Not that scared.”
She grins. “Good. Then let’s put some makeup on that face and get this party started.”
Fifteen minutes later, Anna has miraculously pulled four different outfit choices out of the stack of clothes that are cuter than any combinations I tried on my own, adding a wrap dress and a pair of heels she pulled out of her own closet.
She’s made my zumor almost undetectable with her exceptional makeup skills, and she’s hyped me up to the point that I almost feel like I can do this.
“Just think,” Anna says as she steers me toward the door. “You aren’t going to miss Poppy’s seventh birthday this fall. Isn’t that exciting?”
“Good. This is good,” I say. “What else?”
“Olive’s first dance recital,” Anna says. “And Fiona’s first steps.”
“I’ll probably hear her first word,” I say, hope springing in my chest, and Anna smiles.
“You totally will.”
I slide my hands down the front of my dress—Anna’s dress. “You’re sure starting with the dress is the right choice?”
“It totally is. You look gorgeous. Absolutely worthy of a hot hockey player.”
I groan as Anna nudges me out the door. I still can’t believe Carter heard my ranting, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.
Dinner is already on the table by the time we join everyone else. “You’re sitting here, Aunt Sarah,” Poppy says, motioning to a seat right next to Carter.
I glance over at him as I sit, and he offers me a small smile.
“Sorry about all that earlier,” I say.
“Sorry about what?”
Is he really going to make me say it? I swallow against the nerves in my throat. “Just all my…ranting.”
He gives me a quizzical look. “I don’t remember any ranting. I just remember you walking in here wearing a great dress, looking really beautiful.”
I gaze into his warm blue eyes, and something in my chest loosens, my whole body softening.
“Aunt Sarah?” Poppy asks, and I look across the table to meet my niece’s eyes.
“What is it, sweetie?”
“Is Carter your boyfriend?”
My eyes widen at the question, but I do my best to reel in my shock. Of course Poppy would ask. She’s always been observant, and Carter has been here twice in the last three days. Not to mention my freakout earlier, which Poppy witnessed.
I look over at Carter, who is watching me closely, eyes sparkling like he finds her question highly entertaining. “Um, yep,” I finally say. “He sure is.”
Poppy nods, like this is exactly the answer she expected. “Does that mean he’ll be my uncle like he’s Charlie’s uncle?”
I look up to meet Anna’s gaze. For all our talk of logistics, we didn’t really cover how this relationship might impact the girls. Will they be sad when Carter’s no longer around? I’m still floundering, trying to figure out how to respond, when Carter comes to my rescue.
“You want to know a secret, Poppy?” he says.
She nods, brown eyes wide and curious.
“I’m not really Charlie’s uncle. But since I’m really good friends with her dad, she sometimes calls me Uncle Carter. Does that make sense?”
Poppy nods. “I think so. It’s like my friend Kenya at school. She has seven aunties, but they aren’t related. I told her that didn’t make sense, and she told me sometimes family is family and sometimes friends are family.”
“Right. Exactly,” Carter says.
“Good answer, Poppy,” Anna says, her voice soft.
Poppy scoops up a bite of her potatoes. “So can I call you Uncle Carter too?”
“If it’s okay with your parents, it’s okay with me,” Carter says.
The conversation moves on, Poppy chattering about school and the book she read all by herself and her favorite teacher. But I can’t stop glancing over at Carter, marveling at how easily he handled the exchange with Poppy.
And he doesn’t stop there. For the rest of dinner, every time I get caught up in my own head, worried about what he’s thinking or how things are going to go, Carter finds a way to put me at ease.
He tells a funny story about his brother. He pulls up pictures of Gordie on his phone. He even keeps the entire table enraptured with the story of how he found Gordie in a dumpster outside the Vortex when he was so tiny, his eyes were still closed.
“You wouldn’t have believed it, girls,” Miles adds. “Smallest kitten I’ve ever seen.”
And Carter was the one who took it home.
Over dessert, he asks the girls to help him brainstorm what kind of painting he should have me create for him, something I sense is intentional. Like he’s reminding me he’s getting something out of our arrangement too.
Once Miles takes the girls upstairs to put them to bed, Anna leaves Carter and me in the living room with wine.
“Drink,” she says. “The next part of our evening will be easier if you’re both relaxed.
I’ll be right back.” She turns and heads into her bedroom, and then I’m alone with Carter for the first time all night.
I take a huge sip of wine. Several sips, actually.
Carter looks over and grins. “You okay over there?”
I give my head a little shake and set my glass on the fireplace mantel. “Just struggling to wrap my head around everything.”
“Yeah, me too. I actually called my mom today.”
My eyebrows lift. “To tell her about…us?”
He nods. “I figured she should know before she sees anything about it online.”
“Right. Good call. How did she react?”