Chapter 15
CARLIE
Iopen my eyes to the muscular chest of Lawson Rawlins.
Fuck, that’s right, I gave him half the bed in a rare moment of humility toward the man who reminds me of my greatest failure every day.
I take a minute to study the competition. Who is, I realize, missing a pillow. His head is on the mattress, his chin up, as if showing off his Adam’s apple.
Although, after last night, it’s hard to consider him just my competition. I run my gaze over the toned musculature on the other side of the bed. It’s been forever since I woke up next to a man.
Okay, so it’s never actually happened. My Tinder dates don’t exactly stay for the cigarette, let alone the cuddle after.
So I’ve never missed something I’ve never had.
But watching Ra—Lawson sleep stirs up the butterflies I locked up and threw away the key on last night after our deep and meaningful conversation.
I lock them down, a few hitting the metal confines of their cage.
He’s all angles, lips that look like I could eat him with one bite.
Gorgeous brown hair I could send my fingers into . . .
My breathing picks up pace, sending heat low in my belly.
Shit.
I roll onto my back and rub my hands over my face.
A groan sees me splay my fingers apart to peek at the man.
He rolls over, reaching for something. His big mitt finds my pillow. He tugs it to himself, and my head hits the mattress. “Hey!”
His face twists as his eyes slowly open. He lifts his head, rubbing a hand over his face, his biceps flexing as he does. Deep blues finally meet my gaze, and I close my gaping mouth and grab the pillow. “Thief. That’s what I get for my kindness?”
He smiles and flops back onto the mattress.
“Mornin’,” he drawls in a low, raspy tone.
My stomach flips, upturning the metal cage, and the butterflies race from their confines. I fling the covers off and pad to my luggage. Pulling out my day clothes, I head to the bathroom, not paying Lawson and his heady masculinity another glance.
After brushing my teeth, I take a quick shower and pull on my shorts and a tank that hangs off one shoulder. I put my hair up and apply some light makeup.
Day four.
Role-playing. This should be interesting.
I can’t wait to see what crazy shit Manuel has for us today. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m kind of enjoying this week. I predicted it would be hell, being trapped in these confines with Lawson.
But it’s . . . not?
I don’t hate it the way I predicted I would.
“You done?” he says from near the faux wall, still out of sight.
“Yeah, sorry.”
He steps into the bathroom, still bare-chested. His Levi’s are crumpled. I guess he slept in them. That must have been uncomfortable.
He moves to the sink and brushes his teeth as I finish up my hair.
How very domesticated of us.
Spitting, he washes his face and runs a wet hand through his hair.
God, I want to do that.
“You good?” he says, and I realize I’m staring.
I clear my throat. “Yep. See you at breakfast.”
“Sure. Be there in a bit.”
I walk from the bathroom to the door, grabbing my key as I leave. At the dining area, I grab a table for two and order breakfast. My food arrives as Lawson drops into the seat across from mine. “You forgot your phone,” he says, sliding my phone over the table.
I take it, and the screen lights up with a missed call from Millie.
“Shoot, I should call her back.”
“Go ahead.”
“One, I wasn’t asking for your permission. Two, if you don’t mind . . .” I wave him away.
With a small smile, he rises and finds a seat at the bar before ordering from the menu. I dial Mills, and she picks up on the second ring.
“Hey, sweetheart, how you doing?”
“Hey, Mills. You good? I missed your call.”
“Oh, I was wondering what day you’re back. I couldn’t remember.”
“Hopefully home Sunday night. You sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, love. Just lonely, I guess.”
That squeezes my chest. It’s the first time Mills has been alone since the day I took her home from the bus shelter. I kind of forgot she would be alone, too. Sometimes, my blinders really are a disadvantage.
“You want me to call you tonight?” I ask.
“Yeah, that would be nice. Oh, also, I have something to tell you. But have a great day, hey.”
“Tell me now.”
“No, it can wait. Bye, sweet.”
I hang up and finish my food. Laughter spills out from the bar.
Lawson is talking with the bartender. Her face is lit up with amusement and wonder as he holds his hands out, gesticulating like a toddler as he recalls some story.
Manuel sits beside him. I didn’t see him come in.
They chatter back and forth about things before Lawson slides from the stool and appears in front of me.
“You’re quite the entertainer, Rawlins. I never knew that.”
“Nah, just like seeing people smile, is all.”
That tracks. He’s always Mr. Sunshine in the office.
“Well, we should go to our first session.” I stand and swipe up my phone, sliding it into my back pocket.
He crooks his arm and nods to it with a smile.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
He narrows his eyes playfully. “Damn, worked for Reedsy.”
“Who?”
“My youngest brother,” he says with a chuckle.
“The cowboy thing isn’t going to work on me.”
“Noted.”
I walk away, heading for the communal building to check the list and see which room we are in. When I find our names, I roll my eyes. Mr. & Mrs. Rawlins.
The fuck, Manuel.
Lawson leans over my shoulder and huffs a laugh. “The man is relentless.”
“We’ll see about that.” I stalk to our designated room.
Inside, I find said resort guide with a ridiculous smile plastered over his face. The clipboard is adorned with pink and blue paper.
Oh, goody.
“Good morning, Miss Carlie,” he quips.
“Don’t you Miss Carlie me, buddy. What’s with the list out there?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about?” He frowns, but the side of his mouth tips up.
I swear to god.
“Mr. and Mrs. Rawlins?” I rest a hand on my popped hip.
“Well, that’s who you are today, for this session.”
I open my mouth to tell him the fuck off, but Lawson rests a hand on my shoulder. “You’re going to have to explain that one for us.”
I glance at Lawson’s calm face.
“Today we role-play, yes?” Manuel turns the clipboard so we can see the colored paper slips trapped under the clip.
“Okay . . .”
“We are going to role-play partner responses and problem solving. Given, this is usually part of the couples therapy. But Serelle wanted us to keep to the original programming as much as possible.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter.
“Alright. We can do this. It’s just pretend, right?” Lawson says.
I hold him with a glare before relenting. “Fine. You want me as your old lady, Rawlins? You got it.”
I snatch the pink slip that Manuel holds out to me. Lawson takes a blue one.
How very retro.
“Okay, so on each slip is a problem that you must bring up with your spouse—well, partner, I guess. We run through one until there is a resolution, and then it’s the other person’s turn. Does that make sense?” Manuel’s gaze alternates between us both. I nod and Lawson does the same.
“Alright, ladies first.” Manuel beams at me.
Eat dirt, Manuel.
I read the slip. Money problems. Easy. I turn to face Lawson and read the words on the paper. “I want to talk about the mortgage.”
He studies my face briefly and says, “Sure. What about it?”
I glance down at the paper. It says we’ve missed the last three payments.
Who does that?
“We’ve missed the last three payments,” I report.
“Oh shit. Okay, well, how are we going to find the money for them?”
“Why are you asking me?”
Manuel leans forward, a finger held up. “Remember to use the language you would like to receive.”
I draw in a lungful and set my shoulders back. “How will we find the money?”
“Do you have any savings?” he asks.
I press a hand to my hip. “Do you?” The tone comes out harsher than I intend.
Lawson rubs a hand behind his neck as he looks down at me, his gaze slipping to my mouth. “Yeah, sure. We can use mine.”
“Mr. Lawson, the problem must be solved by both of you.”
“Half can be covered by my savings?” Lawson says.
“You don’t sound so sure about that,” I say softly, closing the gap between us.
“I’m sure.” His hands hang by his sides. “What about you, you sure?”
“That I want to pay half of a bill?”
“Yeah, that,” he breathes.
“Absolutely.” The word is no more than a huffy breath.
“Yes! A successful outcome.” Manuel’s excitement propels us apart like Moses parting the Red Sea.
I drop my gaze to the floor.
Shit.
How the hell did we get so close?
“Next up, you are going to be your respective parent and role-play how they would solve something. Mr. Lawson, who do you choose, your mother or your father?”
“My father.”
“What is his name?” Manuel asks.
“Harry.” Lawson’s gaze hasn’t left me, but I can’t bring myself to look at him.
“Miss Carlie, who do you cho—”
“My mom.”
“Oh, okay, great. Here are your slips.” Manuel hands us new colored pieces of paper.
I look at mine, studying it like it’s some ancient treasure map that takes years to decipher. Looking anywhere other than the man whose deep blues swing back to me every other heartbeat.
“Mr. Lawson, you may start.” Manuel nods.
Lawson moves closer. His feet parting a little, he dips his head. “Darlin’, I have some bad news.”
I look up into those deep blues tightened with sadness.
“What is it?” I whisper.
His jaw feathers as he takes my shoulders in his arms. “Ma’s gone.”
Ma? His mother? My mother? By the way he’s looking at me, I’m guessing it was mine. His Adam’s apple bobs, his chest plummets.
“Okay? Whe—I mean how?”
Immediately, my mind flicks to Mills.
“Heart attack, last night.”
I glance down at the notes on my card.
“But she was only fifty.”
“I know, seems a goddamn waste of a good woman.”
“Oh,” I rasp. This feels so real. Not a pretend scenario in the slightest. The emotion in his face is very real.
“Stop.” I try to pull my shoulders from his grip.
He reaffirms it. “There’s something else.”
I stiffen in his hold. “What?”
“I’m—” He glances to Manuel who nods, slowly. “I’m leavin’.”
I freeze, deer in headlights stuff. Every muscle rigid. What, did these people dig through our pasts to find the most triggering thing they could find to throw it in our faces? And why the hell am I doing this with Rawlins?
I rip my arms from his hold and stalk from the room.
The door opens behind me as I march down the hallway, fighting back the tears.
“Carlie! Wait.”
Fuck you, Lawson. Fuck you.
Large strides close in behind me, and he grabs my arm. “Hey, stop.”
I turn on him, finger shoved into his chest. “You enjoy that? Dragging up the most horrible part of my life and tossing it in my face?”
He steps back, his face widening with surprise then falling with empathy. People have stopped what they’re doing in the large communal space. Guests playing chess, those playing cards, and the few others sitting in the reading area all look up. At us.
“No, it’s not like that.”
“Really? Then tell me why you would recreate something so personal, so hurtful?”
He holds both hands up in surrender.
“Did you know my father left with the milk when I was a little girl? I was eight years old, Rawlins. But I’m guessing you already knew that. Did you do some digging before we came here? Or did Serelle let that one slip?”
Shock settles over him, and I swear I hear his molars grinding from here.
“No—I . . .” He hangs his hands and tilts his head as he takes a step forward. “Of course not. Not everyone in this world is out to fuck you over.”
“Yeah, right.” I huff a raw sound as he opens his mouth to say something. “You know what, forget it. How could you and your perfect existence ever understand?”
Before the first tear falls, I make it to the big tree on the other side of the resort in under three minutes.
My ass meets the ground as the first sob tumbles out.