3. Carter
3
CARTER
R osie stares at me, her doe eyes wide in awe. She’s probably struggling to grasp what I just said.
“Uh, can you repeat that?” She hasn’t blinked yet due to temporary shock.
“You’re moving in with me.” I’m adamant and with good reason.
I’m going to be a dad.
Rosie is going to be a mom.
The baby is going to be ours.
Unexpected or not, we’re both already so deep into the confidence that a baby isn’t a disappointment or reason to panic.
That night wasn’t planned. This news sure as hell didn’t cross our minds as a possibility.
Nor was finding out when I witnessed the mother of my child spew all over the ground before she shared the news.
I should be stuck in shock. Unable to comprehend every word she said.
However, it doesn’t happen. Instead, it sets off an instant rocket inside me, and I’ll be damned if I don’t step up in this very moment to provide for this kid and Rosie. How it’s going to go, considering Rosie is my ex-wife, I’m not entirely sure.
She bursts out laughing, and I was expecting this.
Rosie wiggles a pointed finger in my direction. “You’re crazy. You know that, right?”
Rolling my eyes, I let her dial down her hysterics while I open her car door and reach across the seat for water and crackers that I see in the cupholder. Her laughter finally dies down by the time the door shuts, and I offer her the refreshments.
She yanks the bottle of water from my hand and opens the cap to rinse out her mouth. Screwing the cap back on, she grabs the crackers and stuffs one into her mouth.
I can only glower at her.
“I’m not moving in,” she says with her mouth full.
I swipe the bottle from her hand so she has one less thing to hold on to. “Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Not negotiable.”
Her eyes blaze open, and she begins to fume. “You can’t just demand that I pack my boxes and get a key to your house,” she huffs then rests her back against the car.
I join her so we stand side by side, and I cross my arms. “Rosie, you’re living with your parents. We can both agree that isn’t the best solution right now. They will watch your every move like a hawk. Besides, this baby is mine, too. Providing for you is what I should do.”
She throws me a glare before floating her gaze back straight ahead into the field. “I’m not an obligation.”
“I’m aware of that. Honestly, how did you see this playing out? You’d tell me the news then only see one another at appointments?” I’m doing my best to speak softly to her, not wanting to have an argument. “That’s not how it’s going to go,” I add.
The sound of a grumble causes the corner of my mouth to curve up. It’s the tell-tale sign that’s she’s growing frustrated with me, and we’ve only just begun our conversation. I used to love the way she stomped and made noises of disapproval. She never could hold up the mood for long, and she would break out into a smile after a minute, only to express her thoughts.
I didn’t realize I missed that, but my mind just reminded me that I do.
She nibbles on the cracker. “Carter, we’re not going to throw ourselves together because of a baby. This is an unusual situation, and we have to tread carefully. We need to figure out co-parenting, and I don’t think packing my car and arriving at your front door is the way to do that.”
Now she just lit the sparks inside of me. “Fuck that. I don’t deserve to miss all of this. When the baby kicks, or making the crib, or trying to help every time you have to throw up to avoid getting arrested.”
She gasps and smiles at the same time. “You weren’t going to arrest me.”
“No,” I agree, but I’m still incredibly frustrated. “We’re having a baby. Rosie, think about it. How the fuck are we going to figure this out if you just want to text and see one another at random times. You got your way once, but not this time.” My tone could slice through anyone, and shit, I just said what I probably shouldn’t have.
Rosie steps away from the car, and I can see the hurt in her eyes. “Is that what you think? I got my way when we got divorced?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes taking a deep breath, well aware that this isn’t the time or place for this conversation. Because I could make a long list of why it was the right thing to do. She was young and still had things to discover. I let her go free because that’s what you do, right? Sometimes they return.
“You signed the damn papers without much discussion. It was your idea,” she snipes.
I’m going to get a headache from this conversation that is heading off course. “Now isn’t the time to hash out those details. Not in your condition.”
She throws a cracker at me, and I attempt to dodge it. Doesn’t matter, my body is hard from muscle, and the cracker just bounces off my stomach, leaving a few crumbs on my shirt.
“Condition? Seriously? I’m not some delicate flower. Next thing I know you’re going to tell me that I can’t teach yoga or do other stuff.” I grow quiet as she plants her hands on her hips. She notices my silence and grumbles again. “You were about to say it, weren’t you?”
I shrug my shoulders. “It’s not crazy. You need to take it easy, and money isn’t an issue.”
“Carter, this conversation right now is why I won’t be moving in with you.” Right, because she hates the thought that I could take care of her ten times over.
Stepping forward, my hand darts out to grab her arm and keep her from creating distance between us, and I’d be lying if it isn’t also the need to make it clear who is going to lead our journey forward.
The last few minutes might be a haze on my feelings, separate from the baby. The pain and anger of how we ended and the sudden spark that there is a new chance. I’ve lost all defenses when it comes to her, and I’m now determined for this baby and what I truly want with this woman, to end the misery that I’ve been in since we signed those papers.
“Rosie, think of the baby. We have to get it together to ensure we have a united front when this child arrives.”
Her eyes drift to my hand on her then back to my face. I notice the way her chest moves up and down. She must feel the current between us, too.
“Right, you have your image to worry about if you’re running for mayor,” she whispers to herself, but I hear enough.
“Damn it, woman. It didn’t even cross my damn mind. Move in. It’s the right thing for us to do.”
“If you are implying what I think you are then you must be well aware that being together purely because there is a baby doesn’t mean it’s what we should do.”
Letting her arm go, I walk back and groan up to the sky and ball my hanging hands into fists purely to tamper my irritation as she watches. “This shouldn’t be a negotiation. You came to Everhope to share the news, and it must have crossed your mind how I would respond. It hasn’t been that long, you haven’t forgotten the way I am.”
A few years doesn’t erase our memory of someone, especially not the one you would stop the world for.
“We have a lot to unpack, and I don’t mean my suitcases,” she reminds us both.
“All the more reason for you to move in. We need to figure this out, and it’s better that we spend more time together.”
Her mouth opens but no words come out because I’m making a solid point. In a few seconds, the bubble of an argument pops, and her shoulders sag while she stares at the ground.
“Carter, I… I don’t know how to be around you,” she admits in a low voice laced with sorrow.
My own body eases into a moment of truth. “The feeling is mutual, but I’m not backing down on this.”
Her lip begins to tremble and her cheeks wrinkle right before a tear pools at the bottom of her eye. “This is a little fucked up.”
A car drives by, but we take no notice.
“The timing is a little off, yes.”
“Why did we sleep together?” Her fragile voice stabs me somewhere inside. It sounds like regret.
Despite knowing that our night together wasn’t the smartest thing for us to have done, I don’t carry remorse. I have simply tried to sweep it into the past and move on. Except, I’ve done a miserable job of it, and Rosie enters my thoughts too many times a day. Having her underneath me again stirred the confusion inside me due to indescribable feelings.
“Time will tell, Rosie. But we made a child, and that’s a sign for something.”
I can’t help it, I enter her space and crook my finger under her chin to lift her gaze to my eyes. No escape. Not anymore. We have to face one another now, tomorrow, and for life.
“Don’t lie to me and tell me you don’t see it the same way, either,” I implore in a rasp.
Her face tilts ever so slightly, but I bring her attention straight back to me and wait for an answer, and I don’t need to say anything.
“You’re right,” she barely whispers.
Finally, I can inhale a calming breath, relieved that we are on another same page today.
We’re going to be parents, and this has happened because we’re supposed to be tied together. In what way beyond parents, we still have to figure it out.
Her face turns a new shade of pale, and right away, I bring my fingertips to her shoulders to help keep her standing straight. “It’s really bad, isn’t it?”
She nods vaguely before pushing me away and crouching over to throw up again. I rub her back and take hold of her hair. She always smells of apple, but admittedly, not today.
The sound of her hurling turns to gagging because it seems she has nothing left in her stomach. “You’re okay,” I try to soothe her as she dry-heaves.
I did this to her.
My swimmers were insistent that Rosie should have my baby inside her belly, and now she’s in complete physical misery.
She keens as she rises again. “When will this end?” She shoots me a warning. “If you say nine months, I swear…”
I chuckle because I completely was about to say that and then point out the calculations would actually mean in eight months.
We have eight months to figure out how we are going to do this. Not just because we are adding a baby to the equation, but I mean where she and I stand. Us.
The rage that I sometimes feel that Rosie left is strong some days, and other days, the hole inside of me begs for her to return.
Selfishly, I’m thankful that she’s knocked up with my kid because now she’s pushed back into my life, and I have every intention to ensure she’s pushed straight into my arms.
Even though she seems woozy, Rosie begins to take a few steps to the car door. “This has been fun and all, but I’m heading back. I’ll sleep this off and clear my head. And no, I will not be packing my bags.”
I grin to myself because I’m right. She just needs a little time to process the fact that she will be getting a key to my place. Or rather the place on Everhope Road where she will forever stay, because I’m a demanding fucker.
“I’m not sure you should be driving right now. Really. That isn’t me being a pain in the ass.”
She drops herself onto the seat of the car and rests her forehead against the wheel. “Relax,” she mumbles. “I’m going to rest and gather strength, then I’ll drive back. You go do sheriff things.”
“This could all be solved if you let me drive you home… to Everhope Road, so it won’t take long, and you can take a nap. I’m off duty now, your slow driving was just an bonus.”
She is now exhausted, and I’m positive it’s because of me and not our baby causing havoc inside of her.
“Car—” She squeezes the steering wheel, knuckles white, and her mouth closes as if she is trying to calm her nausea.
That’s it.
I open the car door fully. “You’re coming with me. Otherwise, I swear I will use my handcuffs. Or I can make up something to arrest you for. Now get in my car and I’m driving you to my place.”
“Carter.” She begins to protest, but I can tell she is no longer physically able to.
“I’m waiting.” I hold my arm out to show her that there is plenty of space for her to walk on over to my car. “Come on. Five minutes to my house or forty minutes back to your parents’. What’s it going to be?”
The sound of defeat is the only thing I hear when she is no longer reluctant and gets out of the car.
“Oh gee, someone listened,” I mock. “I’ll come back for your car when Oliver gets home and can take me.” The joys of having your brother also be your neighbor.
“Fine.” She’s a little sluggish, but she heads to my car.
Her telling me she’s pregnant doesn’t feel as though it happened twenty minutes ago. Mostly it’s due to the fact that I’m already two steps ahead and taking care of her.
* * *
I guess it’s different this time.
It’s not dark, and we’re not scrambling to get clothes off. Six weeks ago, there wasn’t a moment to stop, and Rosie couldn’t study my living room and kitchen. We went straight to my bedroom, and the next day, she left as soon as the sun was up.
It’s simple but modern, with a fresh feel. Open concept, a lot of white and gray throw pillows. When we were married, we had a cozy three-bedroom off of Main Street. Everything was updated but had more character, she said.
But this house? It’s big enough for four babies. Everhope Road? There is an abundance of neighbors and everyone says hi. There is a playground down the street which our son or daughter can enjoy.
I’m already thinking in the future when I need to think in the now.
“I’ll grab you a shirt if you want to shower. Maybe you want to lie down on the bed.” Really, I say it innocently, but then it feels anything but when Rosie’s eyes widen slightly. “In the guest room,” I clarify.
“The sofa is fine. I bet I’ll feel good as new after a nap or something.”
I rub the back of my neck. “Sure. I can find you something to snack on if you think it will help. Toast, perhaps.”
She smiles politely at me. “I’ll try, but first I need a shower and to clean my mouth, if that’s okay.”
“Yeah, come on. I’ll grab you a towel and bring you some clothes.”
“While I’m in the shower?” She’s teasing me. To many, it would be flirting, and at least, she’s relaxed around me enough to joke now. A contrast to earlier.
She walks past me as if she owns the place, and I follow willingly. “I think I’ve seen it all.”
“True. Soon, I’ll be huge, though.”
I grin to myself. “With my baby inside of you.”
She stalls on a step in front of me. It’s probably the way I easily sounded like a man who is proud and protective, maybe even possessive. Not at all borderline crazy.
Swallowing, I feel the need to correct myself. “ Our baby.”
Rosie clears her throat and says no more. After I show her the guest shower, I leave some towels for her by the sink, and I let her be. Being a gentleman, I slipped some clothes through the crack of the door during her shower. In no way shape or form did I glance into the foggy mirror to see the outline of her petite frame and her wet hair cascading down her back as she faced the back tiles.
It took a long breath to remind my dick that she’s off limits… temporarily or not.
Once I’m downstairs, I make some toast and leave out butter and jam. She always had this obsession about cold toast. She would always say it’s a better way to taste the jam. I never understood it, but Rosie has many quirks. She once burned sage all over the house before letting a frog into the house for luck.
Twenty minutes later, I’m walking down the stairs, having changed into jeans and a tee. “Did you find everything, okay?” I ask as I hop off the last step. I don’t get any reply, and my face stills for a second, slightly in fear that she left. “Rosie?” Still no answer.
When I search, I see a half-eaten piece of toast on the kitchen island before my eyes swing to the couch in the living room where Rosie is sound asleep.
My lips twitch, wanting to smile because she’s beautiful. Slightly worn out and pale, but beautiful. It’s just the way her hand rests against her cheek or the fact the throw blanket is only covering her middle. It also means I see bare legs and my shirt that drowns her.
The clock on the walls informs me that it’s actually dinner time, and with Rosie clearly out like a log, I assume she might actually be out for the night or at least for a solid sleeping session.
Either way, I do something that I probably shouldn’t.
I pick her up in my arms, careful not to wake her, and carry her upstairs to my bed.
Lying her gently down on top of the mattress, I can’t help but notice something that I missed when re-exploring her body when we slept together, albeit in the dark and drunk, but I notice it now. The tiny tattoo on her inner ankle of a small rose.
The one she got when we eloped because she said roses represent eternal love.