His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, confusion in his expression. I don’t blame him, the request came out of left field, but I need this to move on. I need to prove to myself that I can do this, that I can forgive myself for my words. Deep down, I know Eric will always be with me, but I need to learn to live again. Because life is so much bigger . . .
I don’t wait for him to make a move. Instead, I grip his jaw and pull him closer until our lips are a whisper apart.
“I thought you weren’t ready,” he says, his lips dancing close to mine.
“I’m taking one step closer. It’s time I take this program seriously and truly prove my existence. Kiss me, Jace. Make me feel again.”
A brief smile passes over him before his lips connect with mine in the most intimate of dances. This time when we kiss, lust for this man eclipses the lingering and understandable guilt wrestling within me. Feeling free of guilt will take time, finding the will to move on takes time, and it’s been nearly two years. I’m moving on. I’m proving my existence, one kiss with Jace at a time.
CARTER
“It’s not a mansion, but it does the job.” I shrug my shoulders, feeling completely self-conscious. Why did I bring her here?
She continues to look around, taking in every little spider web in the ceiling corner, every speck of dust I never bothered cleaning, and every rip, tear, and scuff on my dilapidated furniture.
If I wanted to impress her, I’m doing a pretty shitty job of it.
Is that what this is? My need to impress her? Is that why I brought her back to my place? If so, I need to be punched in the dick because bringing her here to impress her was a pretty stupid decision.
Hey, Daisy, come see where homeless people pee on the side of my building, and while you’re at it, check out the mattress I sleep on, on the floor, and the broken-down kitchen I’m ashamed to cook in as a professional chef. And that draft you’re feeling? Yeah, that’s a winter special. It’s called come catch pneumonia. Yup, she’s a real beauty, isn’t she?
Fuck me.
“Wow,” she finally says, looking at me.
Is that a wow I can’t believe you live in this shitty place? Or a wow . . . who am I kidding? It’s a wow I can’t believe you live in this shitty place. There is no other wow when it comes to my life, my living arrangements, my goddamn luck.
I grab the back of my neck and avoid eye contact. “Yeah, it’s, uh, the only place I could find at the time.”
“Why are you doing that?” she asks, pointing at my hand that’s rubbing my neck.
“Doing what?”
She impersonates me, but in an exaggerated way. “Fidgeting. Why are you doing that?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” She looks at me blankly. “Come on, Snowflake, this place is a shithole. I don’t know why I brought you here.”
Her brow furrows and her nose wrinkles in the cutest way possible. Fuck, I want to kiss her again.
“What are you talking about? I said wow because it’s so amazing that you’re living on your own. Look around.” She spins, her arms spread wide, her hair fanning out with her revolutions. “You have all this to yourself. This is yours. You don’t have to worry about a roommate, or a grandma, or a half-sister and her fiancé, who I hear having sex by the way.” She shivers. “You can walk around naked if you want, leave the milk out for two seconds without being cussed out, and you don’t have to worry about disturbing someone else. You really are living it large.”
She sits down on one of the rickety bar stools at my kitchen island and taps the counter a few times. “Gee, this is great.”
Is she being serious right now? I look around my apartment, making sure I’m seeing the same thing she is. She thinks my apartment is great? Is that even possible?
“Snowflake, this place is a shithole.”
She shakes her head. “You’re not looking at it properly.” Standing, she comes to my side, links our hands together, and waves them in front of us, gesturing to my living space. “You may see the scuffs on the floor or the old, broken-down furniture, but what I see is freedom.” She turns to me, that gorgeous smile I’ve come to crave gracing her beautiful face. “This is your sanctuary. To you, it might not be much, but it doesn’t have to be, it just has to be your space. Got it?” She repeats my words back to me, making me smile.
“Got it,” I reply.
“Good.” She claps her hands in excitement. “Look at me teaching you how to love your space. Oh!” She turns to me, eyes bright. “This could be the something new you learned for Dear Life.”
“Ah, come on. You know I don’t participate in that stuff.”
“Yeah, your dream board on a napkin was very winning,” she says sarcastically.
“That took me a long time.” There is laughter in my voice.
“I’m sure.” She floats around my apartment, touching things, exploring as she speaks. “Why don’t you participate? You have to go to the meetings and write the letters, since you’re already there, you might as well join in.”
“I join in just enough.”
“Oh, I forgot.” She plays with the sheets nailed over my windows. “You’re Carter Crawford. You don’t participate, you’re too cool for that. Instead, your contribution to society is making sure the masses don’t get lost in the clouds by putting them in place with your cheery disposition.”
“I’m sensing sarcasm from the girl who is often stuck in the clouds.” I move up behind her, crowding her space.
“Living in the clouds can be fun.”
“Yeah, but at some point you’re going to have to face reality, which will vastly disappoint you.”
“So why not live in the clouds then?” she asks, turning to face me, her fingers tangling together with mine.
“Because, Snowflake, some of us aren’t as lucky as you. We can’t all live off money Daddy left behind. Some of us have to work for what we want.”
“Hey.” She steps back, her brow furrowed again, but this time, it’s not a furrow that’s going to win me brownie points. “That wasn’t very nice, Carter. I didn’t know my dad left me that money, it was a surprise to me.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Then how did you mean it? Because right now, it seems like you’re being a jerk and for no reason.”
God, she’s mad, and I find it adorable.