Chapter 41
Chapter forty-one
Carter
“You know, I always expect you two doofuses to be stronger, considering you’re professional athletes,” Kelsey says, bringing a large wooden bowl filled with salad to the table.
“We don’t carry boxes around for a living, Kelsey,” JT replies, snagging one of the dinner rolls off the pile in front of him. “And you weren’t complaining when we were helping the Lindens move Carter’s couch and recliner out.”
“They were small,” Kelsey shoots back. “I could’ve moved them with only Izzy to help.”
“Hey!” Izzy cries. “Why am I your choice for weakest member of the family?”
The table breaks out into arguing over the best way to measure strength, and I lean forward to share a soft smile with my mom, who’s sitting on the other side of Izzy.
It’s been like this all day. The Harper sisters chatting or arguing or making fun of Jameson and JT.
I was surprised when Lila and JT pulled up in jeans and sweatshirts this morning to help move me into Kelsey’s, but when I asked Kelsey about it, she said they were essentially part of the family now.
JT even goes with her dad, Ken, to the old-man coffee group sometimes.
My mom came this morning to help finish packing up a few of my boxes of dishes and kitchen gadgets, but the exertion and new faces were hard on her. I took her home before lunch and told her we could decide later if she felt up to dinner tonight at Ken and Jen’s house.
She’d insisted she wanted to come. I considered telling her not to, just to protect her from the chaos, but Kelsey reminded me my mom is still capable of making her own decisions for now, so I should let her do what she wants while she still can.
Kelsey’s mom, Jen, has been great, chatting with my mom about what I was like in high school as my mom sat at their island, watching as Jen and Kelsey finished making dinner. I was surprised when my mom sat next to Jen at the table instead of me.
“I think you’re overly discounting the local workout class and the benefit I have by being five inches taller than you,” Izzy says, still arguing with Kelsey about how strong she is.
Kelsey turns an exasperated look my way, but I just shake my head, smart enough to know I don’t want to be in the middle of that.
Bryn catches the look and snorts. “You think Carter is going to save you? He’s said five words total since you two got back.”
“Was it the conversation on relative-versus-absolute strength you wanted me to weigh in on, or your intellectual discussion earlier about which of the ‘Jo Bros’ ended up being the best one to marry?” I ask, keeping my focus on the pale green iceberg lettuce I’m shoveling into my mouth.
“I see your point,” Bryn says. “Your input isn’t useful. You don’t understand the finer points of either argument.”
Jameson throws his arm around Bryn’s shoulder from his spot next to her, pulling her toward him to kiss her hair. “Don’t bully Carter, B. Not everyone grew up with annoying little sisters to prepare them for this chaos.”
“I was not the annoying one of the two of us,” Lila chimes in from the other side of Bryn. “Teenage boys are bad enough, but ones who think they’re going to be professional athletes? It was excruciating.”
“I didn’t think I was going to be a professional, I was going to be one. I am one,” Jameson replies, leaning around his girlfriend to see his little sister.
“We know you are, sweetie,” Bryn says, patting his arm like she’s consoling a small boy who just found out he can’t be a dinosaur when he grows up.
“Why did we come home this weekend?” Jameson asks JT. “We could’ve been playing golf in Florida.”
“You’re the one who convinced me to take a break before the big tournament next weekend,” JT says, his mouth full of food. “Plus, it’s fun when Bryn makes you cry.”
“I need new friends,” Jameson says. “Carter, any chance you’re available to fly to Florida for The Players with me next weekend? I promise it’ll be a good time, and we’ll leave all the women here so no one will make you cry.”
“He’s only offering to leave us behind because he knows I have to be in New York for a couple of meetings,” Bryn says, pointing at me with her fork.
I know he’s joking, but it’s nice to feel like I might have friends around town to do things with, even if they’re professional golfers who spend most of their time on the road. It’s something I’ve missed since leaving the Army.
“I’ll have to take a rain check,” I say. “I finally got access to all of Trent’s books and financial information for Mitchell Security, and I have to spend the next few weeks closing everything down and seeing what I can do to get the guys paid for their latest jobs.”
Trent has completely jumped ship. He and Julie listed their house, packed up a trailer, and moved to Ohio so Trent could work for her dad’s used-car dealership.
I have no doubt in my mind he’ll be great at it.
Unfortunately, he hasn’t done one thing to try to get Mitchell Security figured out before he left.
I feel I owe it to the employees and our current clients to end things as well as possible.
“Let me know if you need any help, Carter,” Izzy offers. “Becca and I don’t tend to work with people going under—so hard to get them to pay us—but we’re pretty good at finances, and not to speak for Becca, but I’m sure we’d both be happy to help.”
Holding back my surprise, I send her what I hope is a gracious smile and nod. “Thanks.”
“Do you know what you’re going to do once you’re done cleaning up Trent’s mess?” Ken asks from the head of the table.
“I’m still trying to figure it out,” I confess. “I’ve talked to a few people who work at the banks to see if they’re hiring, but nothing is open right now.”
“Have you considered anything else?” Ken asks. “I could talk to some of the guys at coffee and see if they know anyone hiring.”
I clear my throat, hating the turn this conversation took.
I appreciate that they care, it’s just…embarrassing.
Especially for a meet-the-parents dinner.
“I’m pretty open to anything, really,” I say.
“I figure if all else fails, I can join one of the construction crews in the area for a while until I find something that uses a bit more of my skill set.”
“My cousin owns one of the construction companies,” Jen says, joining the conversation for the first time. “Let me know if you want me to introduce you.”
“Thanks. I’m not there yet, but I’ll let you know.”
I glance at Kelsey and realize she’s annoyed, though trying to hide it. “What?” I ask in a whisper, nudging her gently with my shoulder.
She turns her head, stopping her lips inches from my ear. “Those are both terrible options.”
I open my mouth to respond, but she turns her face away, smiling at her family. A second later, I feel her hand grab mine under the table, squeezing once as if to indicate we’ll talk about it later once we’re home.
Home.
That first morning I stayed at Kelsey’s last week was like a dream.
The sunlight streamed in, waking me up far later than normal, and I could only lie there and feel pure contentment—absolute satisfaction.
Kelsey’s bed was soft and warm, its owner draped over my side, her soft breasts pressed against my ribs.
She let out a soft sound as she moved, and I knew I would do everything in my power to wake up like that for the rest of my life.
I didn’t think our relationship could get any better, but this week proved me wrong. Kelsey joined me for dinner with my mom most nights, only skipping Friday to join her sisters, Lila, and Becca for pizza at Wild Crusts.
There was a small part of me that worried Kelsey and I were going to have less in common now that we aren’t working together every day, but that hasn’t been the case.
We’re starting to build routines, both together and separately, which make me realize how fulfilling it can be to share your life with someone, although I’m not sure it would ever feel this way with anyone but Kelsey.
“I can’t believe you’re both going to be living with your boyfriends,” Izzy says to her sisters. “It makes me feel so old.”
“Like half of the people we grew up with are already married,” Kelsey replies, frowning slightly. “We’re too old for this to be so shocking to you.”
Izzy takes a bite of her food and raises one shoulder. “I’m just glad I still have Becca. Hopefully we can just grow old together and be those old ladies who cause havoc around town, flirting with younger men and conning the old ones out of their retirement funds.”
“Oh, Izzy,” Jen says. “You don’t mean that. You’ll find someone.” It’s a very motherly comment, and all three of her daughters have looks of exasperation on their faces.
“Not everyone needs a man to be happy, Mom,” Izzy shoots back.
“No, but having a partner is special. It’s the chocolate kiss on the top of a peanut butter cookie—it’s not necessary, but it sure does make it taste better.”
“Great, now I want a peanut butter blossom,” JT groans. “Any chance that’s what’s for dessert?” He looks eagerly toward the kitchen, scanning the counter for any sign of the cookies.
I join in the laughter at the table, knowing I would’ve agreed with Izzy just a few months ago. But now that I’ve gotten a taste of life with the extra chocolate, I know there’s no way I’m ever going back.
“I’m inclined to agree with Jen,” my mom says, and I can see the look of regret flash across Jen’s face.
I know she didn’t mean anything insulting with her comment, but it’s easy to forget my mom ended up single her entire life. Jen’s life—marrying Ken in her twenties, having three kids, two cars, and one house—didn’t match my mom’s experience with love and partnership.
“It’s not about needing someone—I’m proof of that,” my mom continues, patting Izzy’s hand. “It’s about choosing to share your life with someone who gives you the love and support to be your happiest, best self. I never found that, but if I had, I would’ve grabbed on to it and never let go.”
Izzy nods, her smile softening. “I get it. I’m just not in a rush to find that person.”
“And in the meantime, you can make all the mischief you want with Becca,” Jen jokes. “Though that’s hard to do when you’re in bed by nine every night.”
“I get sleepy, okay?!”
That causes chuckles around the table, and for a moment, the conversation turns lighter again. It’s funny how family can dance around difficult subjects, confronting them while still keeping everything in balance. It’s something I’ve never really experienced with just my mom and me.
I watch them all, the easy flow of conversation, and I feel this pull in my chest. It’s something I never expected to feel—the ache of knowing that, in some ways, I’m more at peace now than I’ve ever been, but that peace comes with a price.
It’s not just chocolate and peanut butter that makes life better.
It’s love, connection, and finding someone who fits into your world, someone who knows the pieces of you that you thought you’d never share with anyone else and somehow loves those pieces the most.
And maybe that’s what Jen was trying to say: It’s not about the chocolate kiss or the peanut butter cookie—it’s about the new treat they become that’s still peanut butter and still chocolate, and yet, somehow, something so much more.
“All right, enough of this talk,” Jen says, shifting the conversation to a new topic, eager to keep the vibe light. “Let’s focus on what matters now—dessert! Unfortunately, no cookies, but who wants brownies?” She stands, grinning at the chorus of requests.
After we’re all full to the point of exploding, I take my mom home, hugging her a little longer than usual as I drop her off.
“What’s that for?” she asks.
“For putting aside your quest for love to love me instead.”
“There was always space in my heart for all the love I could find. I just wasn’t one of the lucky ones who found my chocolate kiss.” She strokes her thumb over my cheek. “But I’m so glad you are.”