Chapter Thirteen
Kenna
Sipping my coffee, I contemplate making excuses to skip this morning’s excursion to the coffee shop. After last night, if I go anywhere with him, he might get the wrong idea. Then again, I promised Amelia she’d get to meet the baby. I really don’t want to disappoint her.
There’s a knock on the basement door and my insides quiver.
I tamp down the butterflies dancing in my stomach as I try to forget about lying in bed last night wondering what it would have felt like if he’d been lying next to me. I swallow this burgeoning feeling of… utterly and completely falling for someone.
After heaving out an explosive sigh, I shout, “Come in!”
Footsteps echo off the stairway walls, and then Carter appears. He tilts his head. “You forget to use the chain?”
“I didn’t forget. I just didn’t think it was necessary.”
Oh my God, Kenna. What are you doing? Now he probably thinks I wanted him to come down here last night.
There’s a moment of awkwardness where we’re not sure what to say to each other. I mean, what do you say to someone after what happened last night?
Is he still thinking about it? Is he wondering how far it would have gone had we not been interrupted by Amelia? Is he wondering what it would have felt like? How we would have been together? How many times we would have settled for?
Yeah, I should definitely bail on coffee.
Amelia comes skipping out of the bathroom and squeals, “Carter!”
Before I can stop her, she runs over and plows into him, giving him a hug.
“Amelia, no!” When I race over and peel her away, I visibly cringe at the paint stains all over Carter’s pants.
I cover my mouth, horrified. I’d sent her to the bathroom to wash the finger paints off her hands, but she still has on the old shirt she was using as her smock.
And it’s covered with fresh paint. Because…
why wouldn’t it be? My daughter does know how to make a fabulous mess. “Carter, I am so sorry.”
He looks down at himself to see why I’m apologizing. But instead of being irritated, like Cyrus most certainly would have been, he’s smiling. And laughing. “It’s okay. Believe me, I’ve been through worse.”
He walks over to the table and picks up one of Amelia’s ‘works of art.’ He almost looks like a proud father as he admires it. Amelia sidles up next to him, her hands now clasped in front of her, and he ruffles her hair. “You’re very talented, little lady.”
Her little nose scrunches. “What does talented mean?”
“It means you paint very well. Keep it up, and who knows, you might grow up to be a famous artist.”
Amelia beams, her face cracking with a smile so huge and luminous it makes my heart burst.
I chuckle inwardly when I look at the same messy, goopy, splotchy ‘painting’ Carter’s looking at, amazed at how he turns even the smallest of things into opportunities of praise.
Cyrus, on the other hand? Well, let’s just say he’d most likely have docked my salary to pay for the clothes she ruined, lectured me on controlling my kid, and reminded me we were basically guests in his home.
And I’d have felt so guilty about it, I’d have done things in bed that I normally despised.
But Carter—I shake my head. He’s turning out to be the opposite of Cyrus in every way. The thought does nothing to squelch the feelings I was having earlier. The ones I’m having now. The ones I have every single time I look at him.
“If you give me your clothes, I’ll wash them. The paints are water-soluble, so it should come out.” He goes to undo his belt, and I hold up a hand. “I didn’t mean now.”
He laughs loudly. “Got you good.”
I roll my eyes and realize the awkwardness is gone. I point up the stairs. “Go change.”
He winks. “I knew you’d find a way to get my pants off.”
My cheeks flame so badly I have to turn away. “Oh my God. Go!”
More laughter trails behind him as he ascends the stairs.
A few minutes later, his clothes in the wash, the three of us are stepping outside into a beautiful sunny day.
“It’s supposed to hit fifty today,” Carter says. He glances over at the hideous snowman whose middle and head have already slipped off into clumpy messes.
“Oh, no.” Amelia frowns. “Frosty came apart.”
Her lower lip starts quivering. Carter kneels next to her on the wet, snowy grass and says, “This mess is so big and so deep and so tall. We cannot pick it up. There’s no way at all.”
This man.
Amelia’s face instantly brightens. “The Cat in the Hat!”
He narrows his brow. “How did you get so smart?”
“Mommy is smart, so she makes me smart.”
He glances up at me. “I can see that.” Standing and brushing his pants off, he holds out his hand. Amelia takes it and they walk down the driveway, hand in hand.
I follow behind, thinking… Well, thinking thoughts I shouldn’t be thinking. Like how much I like it here. How much Amelia likes it. How good they look together. How good we might look together. How I not only like this town, but being in his company. His home.
“It may snow again later this week,” he says. “We can build a new Frosty.”
I’m tempted to say we may not be here when that happens.
But I don’t. I don’t want to ruin this moment for my daughter.
She’s never had this. A man who is amused by her messes rather than pissed at them.
One who holds her hand instead of shooing her away.
One who protects her instead of threatening her.
“Christian’s not coming?” I ask.
“Ha! Have you forgotten he’s fifteen? Unless he’s getting up for school, he sleeps until lunchtime.”
“I guess I have that to look forward to.”
Thinking of Amelia as a teenager, and eventually a young adult, is frightening. What if she makes all the bad choices I made? Then again, I can hardly call sleeping with Jerry a mistake—the decision led to Amelia.
But Cyrus… That’s another thing altogether. I should have seen the signs, but didn’t.
When we turn the corner onto the main road, the sidewalk widens and I can walk beside them.
“You ever think about having more?” he asks, nodding to Amelia between us.
“I think one’s enough for now, thank you very much.”
“Eh, you’ve got plenty of time.”
“How about you?”
He shrugs. “I didn’t think I did, but, I don’t know. It might be nice someday.”
Someday. How many times have I said or thought that very word?
Someday, I’ll have a better relationship with my dad.
Someday, Amelia will get to know her grandfather.
Someday, I won’t have to live in fear. Someday, Cyrus will be a thing of the past. I peek over at Carter.
Someday, I might even be able to fall in love.
“Hey, you okay?” he asks. “You looked sad all of a sudden.”
“I’m good. Looking forward to coffee for sure.”
“You already had one. I smelled it downstairs.”
“Most days I can’t even function until I’ve had two. You’re looking at a certified addict.”
“Ahhh, so that’s why you got the fancy coffee maker. You didn’t want to bother me.” He stops at the corner and looks directly at me, shifting his gaze from one of my eyes to the other and then to my lips and back up. “Bother me, Kenna. Always bother me.”
He looks both ways and steps into the crosswalk. I inhale deep and slow, then let it out in a heavy release of air between pursed lips. Why am I having this reaction? Where is this physical sensation of needing something that’s out of reach coming from? This longing for a life I know I can’t have.
Can’t? Or won’t?
It’s a question that burns inside me the rest of the walk.
When we enter the coffee house, a few heads turn before the people go back to their conversations.
I think back to our lunch at Donovan’s when I felt like I was an exotic fish in an aquarium of guppies.
At least people aren’t outright staring today.
Are they getting used to seeing me? The thought makes me uncomfortable.
What if someone comes searching for me and I’m no longer a stranger?
A man greets Carter from across the shop. A woman waves at him, then glares at me. Glares. As in I feel it. It’s a cold, hostile, prolonged stare of utter disdain.
Oh, great. It’s the woman from the carpool line last week. And, crap, she’s walking over.
She looks me up and down, sneering like I shouldn’t be here. And like I definitely shouldn’t be here with Carter. Then her face does a complete one-eighty when she pastes on a massive smile and practically bats her lashes at him.
“Carter,” she says breathily. “Nice to see you.” Her brow raises. “Still giving them a ride?”
I don’t miss the absolute deadpan sarcasm in her voice.
“Actually, Carolyn, we walked here.”
“We?”
Another woman comes over. She’s stunning. Large, beautiful eyes. Dazzling smile. Make-up done to perfection. The silky hair cascading over her shoulders makes me subconsciously run a hand through mine, trying to remember if I brushed it this morning before setting Amelia up to paint.
I’m beginning to get the feeling Carter is seen as somewhat of a catch around here. Which probably makes me enemy number one right now. I steel myself for the once-over I anticipate and remind myself that this is temporary, and I don’t have to impress anyone.
“Here’s your order, Carolyn,” the beautiful woman says. “Will there be anything else?”
Instead of focusing her attention on me, the woman stares at Carolyn until Carolyn simply grabs her order and walks away. Then she turns to me and smiles. “You must be the Kenna I’ve been hearing about.” She looks at Amelia. “And you must be Amelia.”
I look at Carter, questions in my eyes that can’t adequately express the ones swirling in my mind.
“This is Ava,” he says. “She owns this place. She’s married to my best friend.”
Oh, that explains it.
But wait, that means he’s been talking to his best friend about me? My heartbeat speeds up a bit.
“I saw you in here last week,” Ava says. “I wondered who you were, but I had no idea at the time that you were the mystery girl.”
“Mystery girl?” I scowl at Carter.
“I have absolutely no idea what she’s talking about.” He shoots Ava a traitorous glance.