4. Carter
4
Carter
M y mother and Lizzie flew into town a few days later. They were supposed to help me unpack and move into my studio, but when Miri sent a driver to pick them up and bring them to Malibu, the purpose of the trip changed entirely.
“This is amazing,” Lizzie said, twirling around the foyer area. At twelve, she’d just finished seventh grade. Originally, my eldest sister, Charlie, was supposed to come with Mom, but Sophia had been invited on a trip with her senior high school class last minute. Charlie had gone with her to “chaperone.” She’d given the ticket to Lizzie instead. “You live here?”
I laughed. “Yeah, Bizzie. Just for a little while.”
She widened her eyes and leaned closer. “Where’s the princess?”
For four years, she’d known about my friendship with Miri and Ivy. She’d even gotten to meet Ivy a few times on visits to TW. But something about the fact Miri was a real princess had mesmerized her since she was little.
“She’s around here somewhere,” I said, winking.
As if summoned by her title, Miri walked in from the kitchen with a big smile and her arms out wide.
“Welcome,” she said. “It’s so lovely to meet you.” She embraced my mother, who thanked her for her hospitality and kneeled to lock eyes with my sister. “You must be Lizzie.”
Lizzie’s mouth hung open, her gaze focused on my friend. “You know who I am?”
“Of course.” Miri smiled and held a hand out for Lizzie to shake. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“You have?”
“Of course, Biz,” I said. “I talk about you all the time.”
“C’mon,” Miri said, pushing to stand again. “You can leave your things here. I’ll have someone take them to your rooms. You must be tired from your trip. We can sit on the deck for lunch.”
Lizzie raced after Miri, her long limbs pumping to be the first one out the door. But my mom stopped me by grabbing my wrist and peering up at me.
“How are you affording this?” she murmured.
“Miri’s my friend, Mom,” I said. “She’s helping me.”
She narrowed her gaze and nodded, but there was something else behind that expression, something she held back, something she wouldn’t hold back forever.
I followed Miri and my sister outside, sitting at the table where Miri and I had spent the morning preparing lunch. We both liked to cook for ourselves. In fact, the kitchen was one of the places we’d bonded. Today, I’d made finger foods and a light salad to refresh us in the summer heat.
“What’s it like to live in a castle?” Lizzie asked, hanging on Miri’s every word.
“Amazing,” she said, playing into her childlike wonder. “But sometimes, it’s creepy.”
“Really? Why?”
“They’re haunted.” Lizzie gasped, and I chuckled, meeting Miri’s stern gaze. “You think I’m teasing, but I’m serious.”
“Haunted?” I raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
She shrugged. “Lots of terrible people did horrific things in those walls, Carter.”
I pursed my lips. “No argument here.”
“Have you ever seen any ghosts?” Lizzie widened her eyes.
Miri shook her head. “Not me. But my cousin, Edward, swears he saw Henry VIII once.”
“Really?” Mom cut in as she took a drink of her water. “Where?”
“Whitehall,” she said. “Edward stayed there a lot as a teenager.”
“Was he as mean as everyone claimed?” I asked.
Miri laughed and took a sip of lemonade, smiling in that charming way of hers. “Worse. He walked into my aunt’s room while she was showering.”
That made my mother and Lizzie laugh.
“What a pervert, right?” Miri added.
Lizzie giggled, her crooked twelve-year-old grin tugging at my heartstrings. I’d missed her more than I realized, and now that she and Mom were here, I found myself grateful to be around family again. Eventually, the conversation drifted, and somehow Lizzie conned Miri out of her old clothes.
“I think I still have some boxes around here with things that will fit you.”
“I wasn’t serious,” Lizzie cut in.
“Thank you, Miri,” Mom said. “But I couldn’t?—”
“Oh, please. I haven’t worn them in ages. I’d rather them go to someone who will use them.” Miri stood and grabbed Lizzie’s hand, dragging her back inside the house.
It was silent for a few moments, but I felt my mother’s stare on me. When I lifted my gaze to hers, she smiled and grabbed my hand.
“I’m so proud of you,” she said.
“I haven’t done anything yet.” I took another sip of lemonade.
“Yeah, but to have the courage to even try?” She shrugged. “I had you when I was nineteen and that was it for my Hollywood dreams.”
I tilted my head to the side. “Do you regret having kids?”
“God no,” she said. “Every day, you bring me such joy.”
I smiled, letting her adoration warm me.
“Maybe I regret your father,” she teased, and I barked out a laugh. My father and I didn’t see eye to eye about my life choices, hence the reason he wasn’t out here and they were. He was back in Chicago with his new family and his new son who he did everything with—who he supported no matter what.
Fuck him.
Though, I did regret not having much of a relationship with my little brother.
“But even then, you wouldn’t be you without him.” She squeezed my hand and leaned in close. “Are you screwing the princess?”
I gasped and lemonade shot out of my nose.
“Fuck,” I said, spilling it down the front of my shirt, tears welling in my eyes. “Mom!”
“What?” she said. “I just have to know whether I should plan to share grandchildren with the king and queen of England. That’s all.”
“Unlikely,” I said.
“Okay, fine.” She paused for a moment before giving me a side-eye and muttering, “You weren’t screwing Ivy Washington either.”
I sighed and wiped at my shirt, pulling it away from my sticky chest.
“Ivy and I…” It hurt to think of her. It hurt to talk about her. “I don’t want to talk about Ivy.”
She ignored my protests. “What about Lex? Weren’t the two of them?—”
“I don’t want to talk about Lex either.” My tone was unintentionally harsh.
My mom moved closer. “It must have hurt when they got together.”
They weren’t together. Or at least…I didn’t think they were together. We’re all together.
“It’s—It’s complicated, okay?” But my voice shook, and my eyes burned, and for a brief moment, I thought I might crack right open in front of her. I took another sip of lemonade and swallowed the bitterness at the back of my throat, telling myself it was afterburn from the acid in my nostrils.
“My baby boy,” she whispered. “Gods willing, you will know many great loves in your life. May you be fortunate enough to hold on to the ones who are meant for you.” She nodded at the house, gesturing toward Miri. “You two have great energy together. I can feel it.”
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. A certified Reiki healer, my mother believed in the power of energetic fields. If I told her what happened to us in Ireland, she’d probably have a crystal and a bag of herbs for me to chant over, proclaiming us all fated lovers from a previous life. To be fair, I didn’t have much proof to argue against her.
“Did I have good energy with Ivy?” I’d meant it to mock her, but she answered me seriously anyway.
“You were born with the ability to connect with anyone, but you already know who you belong with.” It was an ambiguous answer, but I got the feeling she’d meant it to be so.
All of them. All of us . We belong together.
I cleared my throat, the thought of my Weeds too much. All of this…too much. “Well, she’s already spoken for so?—”
Mom stood so she could hug my head into her stomach the way she used to do when I’d skinned my knee as a kid. I tried to resist the vulnerability. I was a grown-ass man, after all. But I sat my lemonade down and wrapped my arms around her body, pulling her closer, maybe hoping she could put a bandage over my broken heart and kiss it better.
This would take more than a mother’s love to fix.
She put her hands on my jaw and tilted my attention up to her so she could give me a peck on the forehead.
“Remember what you were put on this earth to do, baby,” she said.
Love. And be loved.
That was her motto. Nothing else mattered.
But for me, I was put on this earth to act, and it reminded me again of my life motto, the one I’d sworn to Anthony Michaels all those years ago.
No distractions.
“I’m not a baby.” I laughed.
“You’re always my baby boy.”
When Lizzie came back, she brought something she thought would fit our mother, and Mom’s jaw dropped to the ground. Sensing I might get roped into dress-up if I stuck around, I let the girls have their fun and found my way to the blue room.
* * *
Later that night, I listened to the sounds of the ocean outside my balcony window. The waves crashing against the shore held such a peaceful rhythm, and in the lulling stillness of its melody, I almost forgot everything was such a mess.
I thought of Ivy again, her bright smile and her shiny red hair. I thought of the way she laughed and how she’d moan please in my ear with her breathy sigh. I wondered what they were doing. Were they happy together? Were they miserable? Had they found in each other a comfort that Miri and I were desperate to find for ourselves?
I traced my thumb over her name in my phone, the last text we sent to each other still on my screen.
Ivy: Carter, I love you. But my mother doesn’t want me in contact with you anymore. If my phone gets hacked, if we get found out—I’m finished. We said we wouldn’t hold each other back. I need that now. Please don’t reach out to me again.
That was three days ago. This was the longest we’d ever gone without speaking to each other. I wanted to reach out to her in the worst way, maybe plead with her to take me back, maybe promise her the world if she’d let me say filthy shit to turn her cheeks red.
Maybe I’d get her to finger herself while I watched and urged her on.
Maybe Lex would walk in…
Maybe they would…
I stopped myself.
Ivy broke up with you.
Ivy is marrying someone else.
Ivy is marrying your best friend.
Pictures of them walking together on the street haunted my social media feed, Lex’s arm over her shoulders, her fingers in his, that puppy dog gaze in her eyes. It was the way she used to look at me.
It’s all for show, I reminded myself.
Other memories flickered through my mind—the way Lex had kissed her at the pub in Ireland, the way he’d pulled her into the woods at Midsummer, how he’d fucked her when the lust took hold of us again in our dorm room. He hadn’t fought the arrangement because he loved her, truly loved her, even if he couldn’t admit it.
And there was the proof—right there on the internet for all the world to see.
I knew this would happen. I knew this was coming. But tears still burned my eyes, and rage boiled in my heart.
I wanted to call them both and cuss them out. I wanted to make them fuck on screen so I could watch it and see for myself how real it was. I shook with fury for both of them, all of them, all of us, all together again.
The only thing that kept me sane, the only thing that kept my jealous rage in check, was the ring on her right ring finger—the opal I’d given her before I left.
Representation.
In every picture I saw of her, it was there. Sort of like her signal to me that despite her text, she still loved me and she always would.
And poor pitiful me, I still had nothing to offer.
Not yet.
I clicked my phone off, put it on my nightstand, and fucked my fist as I remembered our last time together. When I came, silently moaning into my pillow, I thought of steel-gray eyes and a tattooed forearm holding me down.