Chapter 35
CARLIE
With the last eligible bachelor auctioned off, we get to my portion of tonight’s entertainment. I hate public speaking. Love public relations and building connections, but speaking in front of a crowd of this caliber . . . that’s another torture entirely.
“Hello everyone.” I hold the microphone too close, and it squeals before I can put distance between me and it.
The room is silent.
Great, why is it my job to deliver the serious portion of the night?
How are you supposed to follow the hottest auction in New York with these sobering facts and stories?
Determined, I set my shoulders back, remembering the impact we have had on women and children.
On someone’s mother, someone’s daughter. Aunt. Niece.
“Now is the part where I have you squirming in your seats for an entirely different reason.” I clear my throat. As if feeling the vibe plummet, others do, too.
I point the clicker toward the backdrop behind me that’s been set up for our presentation tonight. Serenity House’s logo and mission statement flash onto the screen.
“Every year, more and more women are in need of shelter. It takes on average twenty-one days to apply to a non-emergency shelter and be placed. However, three women are killed by domestic violence every single day in the United States . . .” My speech covers the statistics highlighting the need for more beds, more services, and extended hours.
And I finish with a tear-jerking story of a woman named Alysandra.
“. . . as fingers dig into my windpipe, I realized I had to leave. My home, my sanctuary was tainted, I wasn’t safe.
I hadn’t been for a long, long time. I had been praying for things to just get better.
For him to do better. It was after he lost his fourth job in three months, that the—” I swallow back the emotion and suck in an inadequate breath.
“The bruises came. The hurtful words and punishing physical altercations. And I remember thinking, my mother’s heart would be shattered if she saw us like this.
With nowhere to go, I stayed. For another month.
It wasn’t until I started finding unexplained bruises on my six-year-old daughter that I finally found the strength to leave.
I had failed her, and in the worst way possible.
But I would not fail her again. We left in the middle of the night, and by the time I fought my way free of the house and his rage, we ended up in the alleyway by the Serenity building.
That was the first day in years I’d been able to finally take a breath. ”
I pause and scan the room. Hankies and tissues are shoved in women’s faces at every damn table.
I swallow and force a smile before ending my pitch.
“Alysandra and so many others like her and her daughter are why Serenity needs your help. Currently, we are at capacity. But through the kindness of others, we hope to extend our operating hours and house capacity, along with adding fundamental services to get women back on their feet and regain their independence, including reentry into the workforce and counseling. So, I ask, humbly of you, to donate. Thank you.”
I turn off the microphone and rest it on the small table by the chair. I leave the last slide with the smiling faces of some of our past guests at Serenity, hoping their stories will influence the people in this room to donate as much as they can.
Lawson meets me at the bottom of the stairs, his jaw clenched, his cheeks shimmering with tears that have streaked down his face. I cup his jaw, and he grasps my hand. “You killed it, Princess. Look at all those shattered hearts.”
He turns back to the people at the tables, now busy quietly discussing. Devastation wrapped around a few. Couples pulling checkbooks and phones out as they flip over their name cards to scan the QR codes to donate again.
“God, I hope it’s enough,” I breathe, and Lawson pulls me into his side.
“Me too, baby. Me too.”
The night recovers as the music rises and folks migrate to the dance floor. Before I have a chance to object, Harry is asking for the first dance, and I can’t say no.
He spins me around as Lawson looks on, sitting with his family.
“You’ve done one hell of a job here, darlin’. You should be proud,” Harry says as we travel across the dance floor.
“It was a team effort,” I say with a small smile.
I study his features, looking for pieces of Lawson in them.
With every beat of the song that passes, I find familiar angles and those deep blues that have held me captive for weeks.
Mostly, it’s the kindness and unwavering support that I now know Lawson inherited from his father.
Lawson has no idea how lucky he is.
“Somethin’ weighing on your mind, Carlie?”
He swings me around, and we turn back the other way, my dress twisting over my legs with a slow swish. I can’t look at him, and his grip on my hand squeezes briefly. “A problem shared is a problem halved.” Harry nods with an encouraging look.
“So much rides on these donations. Without them . . .”
“You’ll find another way.”
I look up into his eyes, so similar to the ones I adore. “I don’t know if I can.”
“Luckily for you, darlin’, it’s a we, not an I.”
I huff a laugh.
He’s right. Of course he is.
“That son of mine isn’t going to let you down, and neither are we. If this is important to you, it’s important to us.”
“That’s so generous of you,” I say, trying not to let the emotion swelling on my face show.
“You do for family.” He spins me out and catches me on the return. “I have a feeling that includes you.”
My mouth pops open as a smile grows on his face. The song ends, and he leads me back to the table, returning me to my seat. Louisa rises, saying, “Must be my turn, my love.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Harry says, nothing but deep love running through his gaze.
The two words register, sending warmth through my chest. A warm hand slides over my own. I turn it over, lacing my fingers with his, my focus still stuck on Harry and Louisa as they cross to the dance floor for the slower song, and he wraps her in his hold automatically.
Hashtag marriage goals.
Millie grins at me from across the table. I know that cheeky damn look. What have she and Louisa been scheming up?
Warmth leans into my shoulder as Lawson’s hand tracks a path over my palm. “Care to dance, Princess?”
The smile that blooms on my face is second nature.
Was Harry right?
Am I in way over my head?
“Tell me,” he prompts.
I rise from my seat, not letting go of his hand.
He follows before striding up to the dance floor and pulling me to his chest. I slide my hand behind his neck, one palm over his heart.
And that moment when jealousy got the better of me while he was being auctioned earlier resurfaces, just a little, with his proximity.
This right here is the reason I don’t believe in love. Relationships are messy and end badly over half the time. Even so, the thought of some other woman—
The thought of not having Lawson in my life . . .
He cups the back of my head. “Breathe, Carlie. You did good, and I’m so fucking proud of you, baby. It will all work out.”
The stone that’s nudging its way up my windpipe explodes.
Fuck.
I grip him tighter.
Well, if the folks at work didn’t know what lies between Lawson and me before, they do now.
Feet burning in my too-high heels, I slide into an Uber after the last guest has gone home and I’ve put Mills and Henry in separate Ubers to get home. Lawson slides in beside me, loosening his bow tie the instant the door closes. We pull away from the curb and drive through the city.
We roll through the holiday-themed 5th Ave, the colorful lights reflecting over the windows and rolling over our faces. I turn to find Lawson’s gaze on me.
“Come with me somewhere tomorrow,” he rasps.
“Where?”
“You’ll see.”
I smile at him, and a yawn slips out. “Sure, not too early?”
“Not too early.” His face is soft, eyes full of something I don’t recall ever seeing before, and I can’t place it in this moment.
I frown, and he kisses my hand before hauling me across the seat and into his side. “But, first, we are going to sleep for hours, tucked up together. Tangled in the damn sheets like we’re never going to leave.”
“Hmmm. Sounds perfect.”
He huffs a soft, raw chuckle. His breath tickles my neck, and I roll my head to one side. He plants kisses on my neck, and before we have a chance to remember we’re not alone, the car pulls over to the curb.
“Home sweet home,” the driver says.
I look out at the small three-story building that houses Lawson’s apartment. “Thank you.”
Lawson slips from the back seat, appearing at my door as it opens. I climb out, and he takes my hand. Bed cannot come soon enough. I carry my heels in one hand, my coat wrapped around me as the snow falls steadily, settling on our hair and clothes.
The perfect end to a perfect night.
My feet are burning from the cold sidewalk now, and I tiptoe as quickly as I can toward the front door. A heartbeat later, strong arms sweep me off my feet, and I am wrapped in a warm embrace against Lawson’s chest as he strides for the door.
“A girl could get used to this,” I whisper.
“That’s the plan.”
My amused smile slips a little before I school it back into place.
Surely, I can do this. For Lawson. For what we have . . . How many chances do you get in one lifetime for this kind of love?
The word.
One syllable.
A whole shit ton of weight dragging it to places in my heart that shouldn’t exist. We push through the door, and Lawson walks the three flights of stairs, refusing my requests to let me walk to save his efforts.
“Not a chance,” he growls.
We reach his apartment, and he nods to the door. “Key’s in my inside pocket.”
I slide a hand into his jacket, the warmth sending a buzz through my fingertips. Probably from going from being so cold to his heat . . .
I slip my fingers inside the pocket and produce his keys. He steps forward, and I insert the key in the lock and turn it. With a click, the door unlocks and opens. I retract the key as he kicks the door open. I chuckle. That’s my cowboy.
After spending time with his family, I know now just how grounded, how rugged and real they are. But the one thing that outshines all that is their devotion to each other. It’s fucking humbling.
It’s a reminder of what I grew up without.
I yawn again, and Lawson kicks the door shut. “Bedtime, baby.”
“Hmmm. I could sleep for a week.”
“I’d let you. If I had the choice, we wouldn’t leave my bed for weeks.”
“You’d stay with me through the messy bits, wouldn’t you, Laws?”
“Yes ma’am.”
My heart actually melts in its boned cage, the liquid remnants seeping through. Yes, for this man, I want to try to do this thing that’s taken on a life of its own.
I couldn’t not, even if I wanted to.
Because I am irrevocably and entirely in love with Lawson Rawlins.
Fuck.
He presses a kiss to my forehead and whispers, “I love you, Carlie.”
Four words.
Just four . . . and they send me into a panic.
What if I screw this up?
I search his gaze, the way he looks at me like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever known. He’s literally handing over his heart.
To me . . .
What if—oh god—
Double fuck.