Chapter 20 Carter #2
Another pause. When she speaks again, she sounds amused.
"Well," she says. "That certainly explains a few things."
"Can you help?"
"Oh yes. I’m already intrigued. The ratings will be insane."
"We’ll need to move fast if we're doing this tonight. We need to get our side out before anyone else does."
"I'll make some calls. Expect to hear from me within the next ten minutes."
The line goes dead. I lower the phone.
"She's going to help," I say.
"Just like that?"
"Georgia has always been a good friend." I pause. "She's also got her own ambitions. She knows who it’s worth having as an ally."
Jamie nods slowly. His hand has resumed its unconscious circling on his belly.
"I should probably unpack," he says. "If I’m not running away.”
“I’ll help.”
He hesitates, then nods.
I follow him to his bedroom, carrying his duffel. It's even smaller than the living room, barely enough space for the bed and a dresser.
I stand awkwardly by the door, feeling too large for the space.
"You can sit," Jamie says without turning around. "You don't have to hover."
I lower myself onto the edge of the bed. The mattress dips under my weight.
"Jamie."
He stops. Doesn't turn.
"Whatever happens tonight, I'm not going anywhere." The words feel insufficient, but they're all I have. "I need you to know that I'm here for both of you."
Jamie is very still. Then, slowly, he turns.
His eyes are bright. Not tears—not yet—but something close.
"I don't know what this is," he says quietly. "Between us. I don't know if it's real or if it's just—" He gestures vaguely. "Chemistry. Biology. Whatever."
"It's real for me."
"How can you be sure?"
I stand and close the distance between us slowly, giving him time to step back if he needs to. He doesn't.
"Because I've spent six months trying to forget you," I say. "I tell myself it was just physical. And every single day, I woke up reaching for you."
Jamie's breath catches.
"I don't expect you to feel the same way," I continue.
"I don't expect anything. But I need you to know, this isn't strategy for me.
It isn't spin. You're not a narrative I'm trying to control.
" I stop, close enough now that I could touch him if I reached out.
I don't. "You're the only person who's ever made me want to be better than I was raised to be. "
Jamie looks up at me. His lips are parted. I can see his pulse fluttering in his throat.
"Carter," he whispers.
"Yes?"
He reaches up. His fingers brush my jaw. The touch sends electricity cascading through my entire body.
"I'm still angry at you," he says.
"I know."
"And I'm terrified of what happens next."
"So am I."
His hand slides to the back of my neck. He pulls me down.
The kiss is soft and tentative. It's a question, not a demand, and I answer it as gently as I know how.
His belly presses between us—our daughter, impossibly present—and I feel her move. A flutter against my stomach. A kick.
I break the kiss with a gasp.
"Did you feel that?" Jamie asks. He's almost smiling. Almost.
"Was that—"
"She's been active today." He takes my hand, presses it to the swell of his stomach. "Wait."
I wait. The fabric of his sweater is soft under my palm. Underneath, I feel the warmth and taut curve of stretched skin.
There’s another kick. Stronger this time. A tiny foot or fist, pressing against my hand like a greeting.
My daughter.
I didn't know it was possible to feel this much joy and terror and desperate, overwhelming love, all tangled together until I can't tell where one ends and another begins.
"She knows you're here," Jamie says quietly.
I can't speak. My throat has closed completely.
Jamie's hand covers mine. We stand there in his tiny bedroom, his belly between us, our daughter making her presence known.
Georgia calls back seven minutes later. "You up for David Glass again?”
“I thought he’s not on until Friday.”
“Oh, he wants to make an exception. The network is even going to bump their regular segment when I told them what it was about," she says.
"Apparently, rumors about you two never really died down.
The network's been sitting on that footage of you on Point of Contention for months, waiting for a follow-up. Give me the address and I’ll arrange a car for you. "
"Yes, we’ll do it. Thank you, Georgia."
"Don't thank me yet. You're about to walk into a lion's den."
"I know."
"And Carter?" Her voice softens. "For what it's worth, I hope it works out. You sound happier than I've ever heard you."
The call ends. I look at Jamie.
"We should go."
The car arrives a few minutes later. It’s a black sedan with tinted windows, a driver who doesn't ask questions. Georgia's arrangement.
Jamie slides into the back seat with effort, one hand braced on the door frame, the other supporting his belly. I resist the urge to help. He hasn't asked for it, and I'm learning to let him set the boundaries.
I climb in beside him. The door closes. The city begins to slide past the windows.
In the dim light of the car, Jamie's profile is sharp. He's staring straight ahead, his jaw set, his hands clasped in his lap. He's wearing a dark blue, cashmere sweater and I want to kiss him again.
"This is the first interview I’m going to where I haven’t prepared," he admits.
"Yeah, me neither. I guess we just tell them the truth."
"Which version?"
"The one where we couldn't stay away from each other. The one where—" I pause. "Where I fell in love with someone who challenged everything I thought I believed."
Jamie turns to look at me. The streetlights catch his face as we pass, illuminating him in flashes. Light, dark, light again.
"You've never said that before."
"Said what?"
"That you fell in love with me."
"I'm saying it now," I tell him. "In case that's not clear."
Jamie is quiet for a long moment.
"I don't know if I love you," he says finally.
His voice is soft, not cruel. Honest. "I don't know if what I feel is real or if it's just the match.” His hand finds his belly again, that unconscious protective gesture.
"I'm about to have a daughter. I'm about to be responsible for someone who depends on me completely. I can't afford to get this wrong."
"You won't."
Jamie's breath shudders.
"We can take it slow, work it out as we go."
His fingers intertwine with mine.
"Okay," he whispers.
The car pulls up to the studio. In a few minutes, we're going to walk in there and everything will change. There will be no going back. No more secrets, no more hiding. The whole world will know about us, about our daughter, about the truth I spent months denying.
I should be terrified.
Instead, all I feel is Jamie's hand in mine.
"Ready?" I ask.
Jamie looks at the studio. At me. At our joined hands.
"No," he says. "But let's do it anyway.".