Chapter 24 #2
The door swings open and Carter grabs me by the arm. My butt leaves the god-awful chair and I’m thrown into the dressing room. The door clicks shut behind me.
“Carter!”
“It’s annoying talking through a wall like that.” His fingers slip the shiny pearl buttons of his dress shirt through the holes, one by one. “So, are you? Bringing a plus-one?”
“No, I just told you.” I crouch and look under the dressing room door for any sign of passersby, any shoes that might indicate the tailor’s returned and I should therefore extricate myself.
“You seeing anyone these days?”
My head spins. How has this become our pattern?
We don’t speak for weeks after our tense run-in at the bridal shower, then he texts me out of the blue like all is dandy asking if I want to come to his fitting.
I say yes like an idiot, and now he feels entitled to information about my personal life without acknowledging the radio silence that’s been going on between us?
I should probably be more surprised, but this is classic Carter.
And if I’m being honest, classic me. Ignore and pick up where we left off.
Brush under the rug and move on. It’s time to start saying no to him.
I cough. “Maybe.”
“You gotta give me more than that, Lib.” He rolls his shoulders and slides the dress shirt off, revealing his gorgeous, golden, lightly freckled skin.
“Jesus, Carter!” I shield my eyes with my hand.
“What?” He pushes my hand away. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” He’s right. We’ve been in various states of undress over the years—one time in particular, more so than others. Three months ago, this same situation would have lit me up inside like a firework. Now it just feels…wrong.
“You’re getting married,” I mutter.
The left side of his mouth creeps up toward his cheek and he points his finger at me. “You are seeing someone, aren’t you?”
I throw out my arms. “So what if I am!”
He claps his hands together. “I knew it! Who is it? That guy from the bar?”
I roll my eyes toward the ceiling and immediately regret it when I’m blinded by the fluorescent light. “No.”
“Anyone I know, then?”
Oh, sweet boy.
“Nope!” It comes out extra chipper. My streak as the world’s worst liar is firmly intact.
“Hmm.” Carter’s mouth turns downward, and his brows pinch together. “Don’t tell me he’s another one of those schmucks you usually go for. Bad taste in music and disappears off the grid after five dates.”
“Okay. I could go without the psychoanalysis of my dating life, thank you very much. He’s actually—”
I’m lying on the couch with Trip again, his hands skimming my sides, whispering praises into my ear. His eyes are studying me, while he challenges me to find my happiness.
An unintentional smile creeps across my face. “He’s special. Not like anyone I’ve ever met before.”
Not fully alive, in fact.
Carter’s hands pause halfway through undoing his belt.
The muscles in his face pull, as though he’s fighting to keep his jaw straight.
Something flashes in his eyes—the same look he had that day at the bridal shower.
Anger? I worry I’ve said something wrong, somehow broken this understanding that we won’t acknowledge our fight.
But in an instant, the look is gone, and Carter’s eyes drop to the floor.
“I’m happy for you, Lib.” His voice is deadpan.
Then why do I feel like a bird in a cage? Why is this dressing room growing smaller by the minute?
“Does he know…everything?” Carter’s words are pointed, as are his eyes when he meets mine. “Like about your mom?”
My chest tightens. “I just told him last night, actually.”
His jaw tenses, then releases. “Oh. So, it’s serious, then.”
“I don’t know, it’s new—”
“I’m the only person you ever really talk about her with.” His eyes are fixed on me. They narrow beneath his lowered eyebrows. “This guy must be special to you. What’s his name?”
My stomach drops. “It’s, uh—” I’m saved by a vibration in my purse. Pulling out my phone, I turn away from Carter.
“It’s Sabrina.” I open her text.
Sabrina
Hey! Thanks again for this morning. How’s the fitting?
Oh, fine. I’m definitely not standing two feet away from your half-naked fiancé.
Libby
All good here! What’s up?
Sabrina
What drinks do you and Zuri like? I’m stocking up for the hen do.
“She’s asking about her hen do.” I turn back to Carter.
The tension in his body seems to have dissipated and he pulls his pants down so he’s left in just his boxers. Wonderful.
He nods and continues to look at the floor. “Right, her bachelorette party thing. You’re invited to that?”
“Yeah. We’ve been spending a lot of time together, after all.
” I tap out a quick response and send it.
My mind flashes back to my conversation with her earlier today.
With my card theory in play, this wedding might not even be necessary to break the curse.
Questions bubble up in my chest—how Carter feels about this arrangement, if he shares any of the concerns Sabrina voiced—but I swallow them back down.
Maybe this marriage is something he wants.
I pocket my phone and return my attention to Carter.
Thankfully, he’s pulled his jeans onto his lower half.
His tux dangles haphazardly on the hanger.
I sigh and start straightening the clothing.
The material is soft, light, expensive to the touch.
Babcia would be livid at the way this is hanging.
She was right, he is reckless with his clothes.
I run my hands over the lapels, flattening them.
No. I pull back. This is wife shit. I cannot keep being this person for Carter.
My purse slips down my shoulder and I hoist it back up. Carter’s still not meeting my eye. I’m desperate to diffuse whatever just happened between us.
“Want to stop by the bodega?” My tone drips with exasperation.
“Nah, can’t. Wedding diet.” He smirks up at me and pinches what is approximately one millimeter of belly fat.
I roll my eyes and slap him across the chest. My hand stings from the impact, which only further proves my point. Man, I forgot how good it feels to actually make contact with someone.
“Just get a coffee, then, princess.”
Carter clutches his chest. “Did you just insult me, Libby Lakoski?”
My hand grazes the door latch and I turn away to hide my smile. “I guess I did.”