CHAPTER 5. Carter #3
We’ve been together for less than twenty-four hours, and suddenly we’ve skipped straight from first kiss to marriage like the ten thousand steps in between don’t exist.
I want to say something—anything—to steer this conversation back to safer ground. Pancakes. The weather. Literally any other topic on earth.
But before I can string a thought together, Thomas says, “Yes. Of course.”
The words hang there, and I swear my heart forgets how to beat.
Of course.
Thomas Moore wants to marry me. Of course.
I’m still trying to process that casual, almost offhand answer when I notice Jason’s face has shifted completely. His eyebrows—which until now seemed permanently glued to his hairline—have lowered, and his mouth has fallen slightly open.
For once in his life, my brother is speechless.
Under any other circumstances, I’d be savoring this moment. But right now, I’m too busy having a full-blown internal meltdown because the man I’ve loved for twenty years just casually said he wants to marry me…after less than twenty-four hours of us actually being together.
“I’m sorry,” Jason says, finally finding his voice. “Did you just—are you saying you want to marry my little brother?”
I glance up at Thomas, ready to jump in and reassure him he doesn’t have to answer that.
But Thomas just smiles. His ears go red. And then he says, “Yes, I do.”
I stare at him, half expecting a qualifier—someday, eventually, once we’ve actually dated for more than a day—but he just stands there like he didn’t just casually drop a marriage proposal in my brother’s kitchen.
“Thomas,” I start, my voice a strangled whisper. “You don’t have to—”
“And you’ve thought about this?” Jason cuts in, still locked in on Thomas like I’m not even in the room. “This isn’t just… I don’t know, post-car-sex euphoria talking?”
“Jesus,” I yelp, mortification crashing over me all over again.
Thomas doesn’t even blink.
“I’ve thought about marrying Carter for at least a couple of years,” he says—calm, certain, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “So there’s not much left to think about.”
I stare at him, trying to figure out who this alien is and what they’ve done with Thomas Moore.
The Thomas I know—the one I’ve spent twenty years pining after—is thoughtful, methodical, the kind of guy who researches toasters for three weeks before making a purchase.
He doesn’t blurt out lifelong commitments like they’re casual suggestions.
Jason turns to me. “And what do you want, Carter?”
“I—we haven’t talked about any of this,” I say, gesturing vaguely between Thomas and me. “We’ve been together for less than a day, Jase.”
“Still,” Jason shrugs, completely unapologetic. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re on the same page about the big stuff. Are you serious about Thomas? Would you marry him?”
I feel Thomas looking at me, and my face goes up in flames.
“Yes, of course,” I say, blushing hard—then quickly add, “Not right now though.”
“Sure,” Thomas says, letting out a quiet laugh.
Jason stares at us like we’ve both grown second heads. Then, slowly, his expression shifts into something that almost looks like happiness.
“Holy shit,” he says, a grin breaking across his face. “You guys are actually serious about this. You’re really going to be together.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, though I can’t help smiling.
Thomas chuckles and slides an arm around my waist, pulling me in closer.
Jason suddenly stands, his chair scraping loudly against the kitchen floor.
For a split second, I think he might be storming out—but then he walks toward us, arms outstretched, and before I can process what’s happening, he’s hugging us both.
One arm around each of us. An awkward, too-tight three-person hug.
“I’m so happy for you, you idiots,” he says, voice muffled.
“Really?” I ask, my voice small.
The knot of tension I didn’t even realize I was carrying starts to loosen. I hadn’t fully understood how much I wanted Jason’s approval—until right now.
Jason pulls back but keeps a hand on each of our shoulders.
“Of course,” he says, glancing between us. “All I’ve ever wanted is for you both to be happy. And if you make each other happy…” He shrugs, a small, genuine smile breaking through. “Then I’m happy too.”
“Thanks, Jase,” Thomas says quietly.
Jason’s smile shifts. “Besides, now when we hang out, I won’t have to sit through all that unresolved sexual tension anymore. It was getting weird.”
“What?” I blurt. “There wasn’t—we didn’t—”
Thomas jumps in. “No, we didn’t—”
Jason waves us off, already turning away. “Relax. I’m just saying, I approve. Or whatever. Just…don’t screw this up.”
“We won’t,” Thomas says, solid as ever.
Jason pauses again, and when he looks back at us, there’s a flicker of something more vulnerable in his expression.
“And maybe don’t change everything all at once,” he adds. “I still want to hang out with my best friend. And my brother.”
It’s such an unexpected concern that it takes me a second to realize what he’s really saying: he’s afraid of losing us—both of us—to whatever this is turning into.
“Nothing’s going to change, Jase,” I say quickly. Then pause. “Okay, some things will. Obviously.” My face goes hot again at the thought of everything that’s already changed. “But we’re still going to be here.”
Jason nods, visibly relieved. “Good. That’s good.”
A brief silence settles over the kitchen, full of everything we’ve just said—and everything that’s still shifting between us.
Then Jason claps his hands, breaking the moment. “Did you say you’re making pancakes? I’m starving.”
“Yeah,” I say, with a small laugh. “If you’ve got the ingredients.”
“I do,” he says, already moving toward the cabinets.
I move to follow, but Thomas’s hand slides from my waist to the small of my back. When I glance up, he’s watching me with so much love in his face it makes my chest ache.
“You okay?” Thomas asks under his breath, just quiet enough that Jason won’t hear. “I know that was a lot.”
“I’m okay,” I say, giving him a small smile.
And I mean it. After the emotional whiplash of the past twenty-four hours—crying in front of him, admitting we love each other, having sex, becoming boyfriends, and now apparently circling the idea of marriage—I feel more okay than I have in years. “You?”
“Never better,” he says, smiling back. Then he leans in and kisses me—soft, slow, lingering just long enough to make my heart trip.
Across the kitchen, Jason groans. “I said I’m happy for you, not that I want front-row seats to the PDA.”
Thomas laughs against my mouth and pulls back, eyes crinkling.
“Sorry, Jase,” we both say at the same time—not sounding sorry at all.
THE END