Chapter 28
CARLIE
Mills wanders through her favorite shit-and-glitter shop, as she calls it. The cheap shop is what it is. Where you find all sorts of mindless items to waste your change on.
She got home last night, not wasting a second to connect with Henry, as they sat on the phone for hours planning their first date like a couple of teenagers. Now she’s nervous and in need of distraction, so here we are.
Me, on the other hand? After an entire day without Rawlins, who called in sick, I was up for anything besides sitting around, overthinking. So, shit-and-glitter retail therapy it is.
“Oh, this is pretty.” She holds up a pink glass heart that fits in my palm, almost. It’s a little too big to fit comfortably. “You should get this for your desk. It matches your aesthetic, or whatever you young people call style these days.”
She drops the glass heart into my hand, and all I can do is stare at it. The replica of my own heart is uncanny. Shiny and unused, really. Hard but fragile at the same time.
I can just imagine it would smash to smithereens.
The sliver of doubt that crept in with Lawson’s absence raises its ugly head.
“Put it back, Mills. I have enough crap.”
Her face falls. I don’t miss the way she slips the heart into her shopping basket as she walks away from me. I won’t be surprised when I find it later in my room somewhere. Her heart is always in the right place, unlike mine.
“You almost done, my sweet?” I ask, following her, lost in my own turbulent thoughts.
“Nearly. I want to grab some more bathroom supplies.”
She disappears around the end of the aisle as I slow to peruse the candle section. I could use some more tea lights. One can never have too many candles.
My phone pings in my bag. I slide it out and swipe the message open.
Ruby.
Joy floods my veins like it does every time she texts or emails. I will never get over being in her circle . . . Am I in her circle?
Lawson surely is.
I shake my head and focus on the message.
All set for the 24th at the Met. How’s the guest list RSVPs coming and the catering?
Guest list is stellar. We are almost at capacity between both our lists and your invite method. Caterers are a go. We should pull this off
Wonderful! Reed and I will be in town the day before. Also, I hope you don’t mind but we RSVP’d for the whole family, since it’s always months between Lawson visits.
Of course! That’s amazing. I’ll keep that between us. It’ll be a lovely surprise for him.
Great, I’ll let you know when we land on the 23rd.
Thank you
She hearts my message, and I click my phone off with a content smile over my face. If twenty-year-old me could see this conversation, she would be squealing, jumping out of her skin.
My phone buzzes again as I go to return it back to my bag. I turn it back over and find one more text from Ruby.
Tapping the screen, I read the words and my breath stalls out.
We are just so thrilled Lawson has you in his life
We.
His entire family.
This close-knit family stuff builds a pressure behind my ribs that I’ve never felt before. A soft, fine hand closes around my wrist. “Ready when you are, sweetheart.”
I snap my gaze from where it’s still stuck on my phone to Mills. She tilts her head before I drop the phone into my bag. I wouldn’t know how to respond to that text, even if I wanted to.
“Let’s go home.” I take the basket from Millie’s arm and pay for her items, which earns me a frown and a breathy chastising at the counter where a young girl bags the items.
Out on the sidewalk, we wander to the next tiny family-owned business. A fresh produce shop. Millie disappears inside, claiming to need vegetables. I hover by the boxes of fresh fruit angled for display as an old man in a navy apron bags up citrus fruits for a lady to my right.
Millie reappears with three bags of vegetables, standing in front of the grocer and slipping him cash before I can pay.
The triumphant expression on her face makes me chuckle. Feisty little old woman. “Done, now we can go home.” She sets her shoulders back, walking for our building. It’s three blocks, and I settle in beside her without a word. I’m too lost in my thoughts to shoot the breeze.
Just when I think I understand this thing between Lawson and I, something tosses a wrench into the works.
“You’re far too quiet, young lady. Spill it.” Mills loops her arm through my own as we cross the street.
“I think I—”
Her eyes snap up to mine when the tone of my voice registers.
“I’m not sure I’m cut out for a relationship, Mills.”
She slaps my arm with her free hand. “Fiddlesticks. Strong women have successful relationships every day.”
I chuckle at her, but it’s breathy and weak.
I don’t feel strong. I feel pulled in every direction, unable to choose one.
I don’t believe in love. At least not the fairy-tale type. There is no such thing as meeting one person who fixes everything. That’s useless bullshit. But . . .
And it’s a big but.
Lawson has debunked so many other things I’ve held onto to keep my heart safe for so long.
He’s not trying to get promoted over me.
He takes care of me before he worries about himself.
He’s selfless that way. Lawson Rawlins is all heart, and fuck if he doesn’t rile me up in a way I never thought possible.
I wouldn’t swipe right on this man. He’s not a good time, he’s . . . a lifetime kind of thing.
That right there scares the hell out of me.
I asked him not to break my heart, and the man promised to break his before he let mine take a hit. What kind of guy does that?
A magnificent one, that’s who.
On our floor, I slide the key into the door and let us in.
“Ugh, Mills.” I close the door behind me and lean against it, letting my head fall back, hitting the wood with a thump.
She turns back, startled. “Montana was that good, hey?”
“No—”
She folds her arms and pins me with her ‘don’t you dare lie to me, little miss’ expression.
On a sigh, I breathe, “What if I can’t give him what he deserves? Hell, I barely believe in the concept of love.”
She closes the space between us, her expression softening as she rests a hand on my shoulder, looking at me. “If love is anything, my girl, it’s a risk. But when you find the right man? It’s a non-brainer.”
I huff a strangled laugh. “It’s ‘no-brainer’, Mills.”
“Yeah, that one. That’s what love is when you find it. It will be the easiest decision you ever make.”
“It doesn’t fix my baggage.”
She shrugs. “Who says it needs fixing? Geez, leave it behind and replace it with better possessions.”
I frown at her before raising an eyebrow. “What?”
“I’m saying, replace your luggage or whatever you call it with things you place more value on. Like family, the one you create. Not the one you left behind. Honey, you already did it once before. Hence, I’m here.”
She turns away, heading for the kitchen. “Listen to me.” She waves her hands in the air with a manic laugh. “I’m freaking Dr. Phil.”
Our little lady watches far too much daytime television now that she’s not working.
Good, it’s about time she was a lady of leisure.
It’s my pleasure to take care of her. I always will.
Hours later, I slide into bed, exhausted from the nonstop reel of what-ifs and scenarios playing through my head. Laying my head down on the pillow, I jolt as something hard digs into the side of my face.
“What on earth?” I utter, sending my hand under the pillow.
Cool, hard angles meet my fingertips.
I pull out the pink glass heart. Setting it on my bedside, I lie down, head on my pillow and hands under my head. Now, staring into the endless pink nothing of the heart, I let myself wonder for the first time what it would be like to be someone’s priority. Someone’s everything.
I ignore the pulse of dread in my gut as my body fights this new willingness to let go and hand my heart over to a man. That’s how I drift into the deep sea of new dreams, with thoughts of Lawson beside me. His warmth. His love. My fight. My determination. One big, beautiful life.
Our life.
As the first tear soaks into the pillow, I force my eyes closed, reprimanding myself for my wishful thinking.
The photocopier, the stinking relic that it is, just ate my motherfucking menu mockup.
The hell?
With a frustrated groan, I head for the one man I know can fix it. My cowboy. Copy wrangler from the hills. I chuckle as I swing into the fish tank with a, “Hey, give me hand?”
Lawson looks up from his screen, his handsome face breaking into a smile. The kind that lights up his eyes and my stupid heart.
Settle the fuck down, heart.
And I see you, ovaries, and you can just sit the hell down.
He follows me to the copier room, hands in his pants pockets, sleeves rolled up as always, tie crooked from him fussing with it the way he does when he’s thinking.
He turns back to shut and lock the door, and I realize how much I know about this man. It sends a jolt of joy tangled with fear down my spine. “The copier ate my mockup. I need it back.”
He chuckles and crowds me against the machine. At least in here, no one can see us, unlike our glass office that feels like we’re reality TV stars and the whole entire staff floor is waiting for a fight or for us to fuck and get it over and done with.
“First, this.” His hands take my face as his mouth descends over mine.
I open, unable to put up any sort of a fight when it comes to Lawson.
He sweeps in, plundering my mouth, setting my body on fire.
My legs widen automatically as he moves between them.
My hands wander through his hair. He nips my bottom lip, and I tug on his hair, now messy from my fingers crawling through it.
God, I love him this way.
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
No, no, that—this—is not happening. I push him away.
His brows fall. “You okay?”
“No. No, I’m not.”
I swallow and choke on the movement. I shove my face into my hands. Each breath starts out shorter than the last as I lean on the copier. It groans, a plastic whining sound, protesting my weight, and the floor hits my ass. Dots flood the peripherals of my vision.
“Dammit, Carlie.” Lawson is by my side a heartbeat later.
I can’t breathe.
“Laws—”
I claw at my chest.
“Breathe, baby. Come on.”
A strangled whimper leaves my throat at his soft tone. As if every action he takes and every word he says reinforces the overwhelming epiphany that just took me down.
My hands cramp, my face stiffens. What the hell is happening to me?
Thumbs rub over my cheekbones as he demonstrates deep breaths. I hold the blue eyes in front of me with my gaze, like they are my last lifeline.
“You’re panicking. You have to focus on your breath. In, one, two, three, four. Out, one, two, three, four.”
I haul in a breath and hold it before letting it go.
The tingling in my hands starts to fade.
“Good girl. Tell me three things you can see.”
“I—” He tilts his head, giving me a reprimanding look. Fucking bossy damn cowboy. “Paper. Disposable cups. Stapler.”
“Two things you can feel.”
My hands gravitate to his chest. “Heartbeat. Warmth.”
“Good, now, tell me one thing I don’t know.”
Pretty sure that’s not part of the grounding technique. “Nice try, Laws.”
“Humor me.”
“Why?”
“Because nobody gets that look without something significant affecting them. Tell me, Princess,” he rasps.
I can’t deny him. Not when his desperate face is tangled with so much worry.
I run my fingertips over his jawline, ghosting them over his bottom lip. “I want you more than anything before,” I mutter.
His Adam’s apple bobs, and he closes his eyes. “Just promise me one thing.”
The words are so raw, my breath hitches. “Anything.”
“Take your time, make sure you’re certain. ’Cos there’s no coming back from this for me.”
He dots a kiss to my forehead before rising, flipping the copier lid open, and manhandling the machine. The menu mockup presses into my hand before he leaves, closing the door and shutting me in.
Sitting on the floor with ink staining my fingers, my heart pounds against my ribs, protesting its way free. Like if it could leave and follow behind him, it would.
And I don’t know what the hell to do with that.
Not a damn clue.