Chapter 15
SARAH
“Let’s start with our house rules,” I say, tucking my legs under me in my chair.
The movement sends a whiff of Carter’s scent up to my nose, and I fight the urge to lift my shirt to my face and take another deep breath.
“Obviously, our relationship at home will be purely platonic. We’ll have separate bedrooms, of course.
Outside of that, I’d say respecting closed bedroom doors, staying out of private spaces.
And making sure we’re always fully clothed whenever we’re in shared spaces. ”
He nods, then looks at the paper. “So no helping you out of your dress when your zipper is stuck,” he says as he writes.
I scoff, and he looks up and grins.
“That was an extenuating circumstance,” I say. “And I was never unclothed!”
“You didn’t have the same view I did,” he teases.
“Carter!”
“I’m kidding!” he says, laughing. “I’m kidding. I totally get it. Clothes on in public spaces. Respect private spaces. It’s all written down.”
“That means you can’t even be shirtless,” I say.
“What if I’m swimming? We do have a really great pool.”
I try not to dwell on the way he said we. Like the house he’s buying belongs to both of us. “Obviously swimming is fine,” I say. “But no strolling around the house without a shirt on. It’s not fair.”
Carter’s lips twitch like he’s fighting a smile, but he keeps his head down as he makes a few more notes. “Got it. Shirt on at all times. What else?”
“Probably there should be no touching,” I say. “Just to make things simple. Unless it’s like…necessary for survival or something.”
“For survival? So…CPR?” Carter says, eyes sparkling. I know he’s teasing me, but somehow it doesn’t feel hurtful. There’s no bite to it, no real criticism.
It makes it easy for me to add, “Obviously. Also the Heimlich maneuver. And if you ever see a spider anywhere on my person, you have my permission in advance to touch whatever part of me is necessary to remove it.”
He presses his lips together, and I can tell he wants to laugh, but he keeps writing without breaking. “No touching,” he says slowly, his words in time with his pen. “Exceptions: Spiders, choking, stopped hearts.” He looks up. “Is that it for house rules?”
“I think so. Can you think of anything else?”
“Yes. You aren’t allowed to wear my clothes.”
I sit up a little taller. “Why not?”
“You tell me why you don’t want me to go shirtless, and I’ll tell you why I don’t want you to wear my clothes,” he says, a playful challenge in his eyes.
I huff out a sigh. “Fine. Just write it down.”
He nods as he writes. “Probably the dress you wore tonight should also be off the table.”
“Stop it,” I say, laughing, because once again, Carter is doing what he seems to do best. This conversation could be so uncomfortable, but he’s making the whole thing feel so much easier than it would with anyone else.
“What about when we’re out?” he asks. “Like we were tonight?”
“I’m comfortable with everything that happened tonight,” I say. “As long as we’re communicating, checking in to make sure we’re both okay.”
He nods. “So, touching, holding hands, kissing if it feels like it’s something a married couple would do. That’s all good?”
My mind tosses me back to the moment Carter’s lips touched mine. I half wonder if I’ll start dreaming up reasons to take him out in public just so we can do it again.
“Sounds great,” I say. “All good.”
“Good,” he says. “So basically the opposite of no PDA. We’re only into PDA.”
“Reasonable PDA,” I say.
“Naturally,” Carter says. “What about friend touching?”
I lift my eyebrows. “I need clarification because that statement sounds kind of questionable.”
He grins. “I just mean…like if I haven’t seen you in a week and it feels like I should hug you hello. Is that allowed? I have a lot of friends I might hug if I haven’t seen them in a while.”
“So…hello hugs?”
“Sure,” he says. “Or, I don’t know. A pat on the back if you’ve had a hard day or a helping hand if you trip. Just friendly stuff.”
“Right. No, that makes sense. I think we can handle friend touching. But can we call it something else so it doesn’t sound like we’re randomly accosting our friends?”
“Friend…ly touching?” Carter says.
“That’s better.”
He nods as he writes. “Adding the -ly now.” He puts down his pen. “Okay. Is that it?”
“Almost,” I say. This is the part of the conversation I’ve been dreading the most. I pull my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. “We still need to talk about expectations regarding other people.”
His brow furrows. “Other people?”
I shrug. Why does this feel so incredibly awkward?
“Seeing them,” I say. “I think it’s important that you have the freedom to…I mean, obviously, you would have to be careful, but I’m just saying, I don’t think it’s fair for me to stop you should you want to—”
“Wait,” he says, cutting me off. “Obviously we can’t date anyone else publicly, so when you say seeing people, are you talking about sex?”
I close my eyes, scrunching my forehead up in embarrassment. The truth is, I really don’t like the idea of him sleeping with other people. But he won’t be sleeping with me, so it feels like something we should talk about just in case.
“Sarah,” Carter says, his tone firm but gentle. “Look at me.”
I squint one eye open, then force myself to open the other.
“That’s not going to happen,” he says.
I bite my lip. “It won’t?”
He quickly shakes his head. “Not for me. I have too much respect for you and too much respect for marriage to let people think I would ever sneak around behind your back.”
Honestly. Every time I talk to this man, it’s more and more obvious why Miles picked him.
He’s just so good.
“I feel the same way,” I say. “Especially with you having such a high-profile career. But if you were to ever change your mind, I wouldn’t judge you for it. A year is a long time.”
He smirks. “If a year without sex was going to kill me, I wouldn’t be alive to have a conversation about it. Monogamy is the only look I’m going for. Nothing is going to change that.”
I can’t truly quantify how much I like his answer.
But the relief washing over me is as potent as it is powerful.
Not just that Carter wants to honor the marriage but that he isn’t the kind of guy to have casual relationships in the first place.
It wouldn’t have disqualified him—I’m in no position to judge people’s choices. But I like that we align in this way.
“What about you?” Carter asks. “Are you shutting down an active dating life so you can marry me?”
I laugh even as my face flushes with heat. “Not even close. I haven’t dated anyone in almost three years. Maybe if I were better at dating, I wouldn’t need my big brother to browbeat a teammate into saving me.”
He smiles. “No browbeating has happened, I promise.”
I hold his gaze. “But you are saving me.”
He reaches over and puts the pen and paper on the nightstand, then lifts his arms, propping his hands behind his head. “Three years is a long time. Will you tell me about your last boyfriend?”
I stifle a yawn. Now that we’ve finished the rules conversation, which went so much better than I thought it would, the emotions of everything are catching up with me. Plus, it has to be close to two, possibly even three, in the morning.
Carter pats the bed beside him. “Come on. Tell me from over here.”
He doesn’t have to ask me twice.
I walk to the foot of the bed, then crawl up to the other side, keeping a healthy measure of distance between us—easy in such a giant bed.
“My last boyfriend was a guy named Diego,” I say. “I met him junior year of my undergrad and we dated until right after I graduated.”
“What happened?” Carter asks.
“We just grew apart, I think. I was staying in Savannah to do my master’s, and he wanted to move home to Boston, and neither of us seemed to care about being together enough to either make long distance work or change our plans.
It became very obvious very quickly that we were not meant to make it. ”
“I get that. But seriously, no one since then?” he says, his tone light and teasing.
“Don’t judge,” I say. “I’ve been busy.” I yawn again, which is surprising.
Wearing Carter’s clothes, snuggling into a bed when he’s less than three feet away, I might have guessed I wouldn’t be able to relax.
But it actually feels like the opposite.
I almost feel more relaxed simply because he’s here.
“I’ve tried a few times. But…” I hesitate, not sure I want to admit this next part.
“But?” he prompts.
“I don’t know. I think I’m scared. Scared to love someone I might lose. Or trust someone who might hurt me…”
Carter looks over at me. “You’ve been through a lot,” he says gently. “Losing your mom. And then dealing with your dad…”
I tuck my arm under my head and look up at him. “What did Miles tell you about our dad?”
“Nothing specific,” Carter says. “Just that he wasn’t a great guy.”
His tone is so gentle, so full of understanding, I’m half-tempted to tell him everything. But I don’t want to ruin the night we’ve had by digging into my childhood. And I don’t want him to look at me differently once he knows.
“What about you?” I ask instead. “Who was your last girlfriend?”
He pauses for a second, but then he seems to accept the subject change and scoots a little lower on his pillow.
He turns to face me, stretching out on his side with his head propped on his hand.
“Her name was Veronica. We broke up…maybe eighteen months ago? She was super big into hockey, and that was fun for a while, but then it just started to feel like it was more about hockey and less about me. Like I could have swapped myself for any other guy on the team and she wouldn’t have cared. ”
“Ouch,” I say, and he huffs out a laugh.
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry that happened. It must be hard when you don’t know people’s motives. If they’re looking for money or status or whatever else.”