Chapter 37
Alex
I was currently leaned over the bar, squinting at a lad who looked like he barely survived his GCSEs. I checked his ID. Twice. “Whisky? Neat? No mixer?” He nodded. I poured a double, returned to the till, and spun the card machine. “Eight-forty.”
He dropped a tenner down, dumped the change straight into the tip jar, and wandered to the pool table that was tucked into a corner. It was the oddest thing—he looked like a weary old man trapped in a teenager’s body.
I let out a soft laugh, turning to the next in line. “What can I get you?”
A tall, dark-skinned girl beamed. “Two Malibu and lemonades, two white wines, and four sours, please.”
I tapped the order into the screen and headed for the ice bin, hip-bumping Mia.
Okay, maybe I didn’t hate everyone that night.
There was a pleasant, static energy in the air.
I was looking at everything through rose-tinted glasses because it was my final shift—the last time I’d smell this specific blend of floor cleaner and regret.
Mia bumped me back, but with less gusto than usual. Ignoring the queue, I pulled her into a suffocating hug. She had been sighing like a Victorian orphan all night, and I couldn’t have her moping through my grand exit.
"Get off me, you traitor," she grumbled, though she wrapped her arms around me anyway.
"In your dreams. I love you, Athena," I murmured, using my nickname for her just to see her crumble.
Mia physically fought back a sob. "I hate you," she choked out, before giving in and planting a dramatic kiss on my cheek. "I love you, Lex. Now get off me before I lose my edge."
I smirked, playfully pushing away. "Sorry."
I handed over the drinks while Mia turned to a new group of drunk blokes.
They were already eyeing her up with a familiar, predatory look, shouting an order for five pints.
Mia handled it with iron-clad grace, but seeing it that night made my blood boil.
What were they going to do, fire me? I was tempted to hop the bar and punch the lot of them.
But before I could launch into a brawl, Ben stepped in.
The shy, massive lad we hired at the start of Uni stepped right between Mia and the rowdy group.
Sizing them up with a terrifying calm, his voice dropped a full octave.
"I'll take this." He put them in line with a single look and took over the taps, casting a shy smile over his shoulder. "Don't worry, Boss. I've got this."
Mia’s jaw nearly hit the floor before a slow, impressed smirk spread across her face. She shot me a look: Our boy is all grown up.
I shook my head, laughing. "Go on, Ben!" I cheered under my breath. It was the perfect passing of the torch. The bar was in good hands, Mia had a protector, and I had a life waiting for me on the other side of that door.
We stood at the foot of the club steps under the harsh house lights, revealing every beer stain on the floor. It was strange seeing the place quiet, stripped of its shadows. Ben and the new starters were weaving through the tables, clearing glasses with a newfound efficiency.
Steve, our mountain of a bouncer, pulled me into a rib-cracking bear hug. "Look after yourself, darl. Don't be a stranger."
As I pulled away, I dropped the keys into Mia’s palm. She let out a small, hitching sob, her fingers curling tightly around the metal. We linked hands and headed up the stairs as the clock hit 01:30 a.m.
Outside, the view was entirely different.
Dr. Carter was leaning against her car, ankles crossed and arms folded over her trench coat, silhouetted against the streetlights. She was waiting to take me home. Home.
The last month had been a blur of training my replacements, but I officially moved into Carrie's place the previous week.
Leaving my childhood bedroom was bittersweet, but Carrie had already transformed her space for me, replacing the wardrobes with massive, meticulously organised units.
She made sure there was a permanent place for me in her life.
I turned back to the neon sign of The Dam one last time. Mia nudged me. "I know you’re going to miss it, you big softie.”
"Please," I joked, blinking back tears. "I’ll have forgotten this place by tomorrow morning."
We walked over to the car. Carrie’s expression softened, her gaze lingering with a quiet, possessive pride. To my absolute shock, Mia lunged forward and pulled Carrie into a fierce hug. Carrie stiffened, then relaxed as Mia pulled back, holding her by the shoulders.
"Look after her," Mia said, her playful tone replaced by a sharp edge. "She deserves her own path, her own money, and to never want for a single thing. Treat her with the respect she’s earned, or you’ll have me to deal with."
Carrie met Mia’s gaze solemnly, nodding once. "She is my world, Mia. I assure you, she is in the safest of hands."
Mia sniffled, wiping her eyes, and shoved me toward the passenger door. "Go on then. Get out of here before I lock you in the basement."
I climbed into the car, the scent of expensive leather and Carrie’s perfume instantly replacing the smell of stale lager.
As we pulled away, I looked at Carrie’s profile in the dashboard light.
I was done with the crowds and the constant hustle.
Now, there was only my degree, our life, and the woman who finally made me feel like I didn't have to carry the world alone.
The house was silent, bathed in the warm glow of the recessed lighting. Our routine was already seamless: coats hung, shoes aligned. It felt like peace.
Carrie wrapped her arms around my waist from behind, pulling me flush against her. "I'm so proud of you, Alex," she murmured into my neck. "Are you okay? Really?"
I leaned my head back against her shoulder. "Yeah. For the first time, I don’t feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop." I turned in her arms, looping my hands around her neck. "Take me to bed? I honestly hope I never have to stay up this late again."
Carrie’s lips twitched into a wicked smirk. "Well, that’s a shame, darling. I quite like a night of indulgence."
A familiar heat sparked in my gut. I trailed a thumb along her lower lip. "Well, Dr. Carter, a night of indulgence with you is a very different thing. I can make an exception for that."
She scooped me up, my legs instinctively hooking around her waist as she carried me toward the stairs. The bar, the bills, and the weight of the world were finally behind us.
***
The sunlight filtered through the heavy curtains in soft, golden shafts. For the first time in years, there was no frantic alarm—just the weight of Carrie's arm draped over me. It was Sunday. A Sunday at home with her.
I propped myself up on one elbow. In the soft light, the formidable Dr. Carter looked almost defenceless.
Her dark hair was a beautiful mess across the white silk pillowcase.
Her nightgown had slipped askew, revealing the pale skin of her décolletage, wrinkled slightly by her posture—a tiny, human detail that made my heart ache with a fierce, possessive love.
I loved the parts she hid from the world with tailored blazers.
I leaned forward, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the centre of her chest, right over her heart. I moved outward, tasting the warmth of her skin until her breath hitched. Carrie stirred, a long, languid stretch rippling through her body. She sank into the mattress with a low, husky chuckle.
"Mm, that’s quite the wake-up call, Alex," she murmured, opening eyes with pupils blown wide and dark.
"I could get used to it," I whispered, moving to her jawline. "We have nowhere to be."
Carrie tangled her fingers in my hair, pulling me up for a real kiss. "In that case, I suggest we stay exactly where we are."
A sharp, rhythmic knock rattled the heavy oak door, slicing through the quiet. I groaned, burying my face back into her neck. I had completely forgotten about Richard, who was still loitering in the guest wing like a bad smell.
"CC? Um... Carrie?" Richard’s muffled voice wafted through the wood.
Carrie’s eyes snapped open, the warmth vanishing. "Richard," she barked. "You have exactly three seconds to spit it out before I make you regret breathing so loudly."
A pathetic groan followed. "Mum and Dad are on their way."
The bed springs creaked violently as Carrie bolted upright, scrambling for her silk robe. "What?!"
She stormed across the room, flinging the door open. Richard stood there in a deer-in-headlights daze, clutching a mug of coffee. "I’ve been talking to them lately," he stammered. "They want to see you. They’re worried, CC."
Carrie’s hands twitched. "What do you mean 'see me'? We talk at Christmas and birthdays. That is the arrangement, Richard! I send the money, and they give me my space."
"I know!" Richard backed up a step. "But they’re already in the car. They’ll be here in about half an hour."
Carrie slammed the door in his face with a force that rattled the wall frames.
She turned back, her face a mask of pale, cold fury.
"Thirty minutes," she whispered. "They haven't been in this house in over five years.
Alex, they can't—" She stopped, looking at our rumpled bed in a mix of panic and protectiveness.
I slid out of bed, wrapped my arms around her waist from behind, and rested my chin on her shoulder. Slowly, the rigidity left her. She sank into me with a bruised exhale.
"I don't hate my parents," she murmured, her voice stripped of its usual iron. "We just... they just..."
She didn't finish, and I didn't push. Carrie grew up in the kind of grinding poverty that leaves scars.
She had spent her entire adult life building this fortress, keeping them at arm's length so they couldn't pull her back down into the grey.
If they were anything like Richard—expectant and ungrateful—family time probably felt like a heist.
"It’s okay," I whispered, turning her around to look her in the eye. "We’ve got thirty minutes. That’s plenty of time to get the Dr. Carter armour on."