I open my eyes. “Carter!” I call out. That's how I convince myself that this is okay. It's still Carter inside of me. My skin touching his skin. His brown eyes I stare into. His name I call out when I finally come. He doesn't need to know I just let a stranger fuck me, using his body as a proxy.
“Oh baby,” he utters, pumping himself inside of me. I watch the pleasure roll over his face as my orgasm weakens. If I had kept my eyes closed, if I had imagined the stranger, it would have gripped me. It would have taken my breath away. But I can't do that to Carter. So I rejoin him, and instead of that build up exploding like a bomb, it fizzles like a bum fire cracker.
Nonetheless, we come together. I collapse onto him for a second before rolling away and onto the bed, feeling unfulfilled. Feeling a tension between my legs that begs for a stronger release. Carter lies down next to me, perching his head on his hand, smiling, taking me in.
I feel guilty every time I do that. Every time I go somewhere else. I wouldn't feel so bad if it was a greedy act, something extra on top of my lust for him. But at this point, I need it. I need it to stay wet. I need it to come. I need it to engage at all.
After a trip to the bathroom, and getting dressed, I return to the bedroom. We don't have the luxury of mulling around naked. I watch Johnny so much it is like we have a child. And I love Carter for being so patient about that. A good-looking, smart, kind guy like him should be enjoying weekends out. Movies, parties, bars. But most of the time he's stuck with me, bound to responsibilities he never signed up for. I tell him he doesn't need to stay here with me, he can go join his buddies. He's in medical school and needs a break too. But he always ends up here.
Carter leans over and switches on a dim table lamp. “So, she's gone another two weeks?” he snickers. He really is patient, but he's not a saint. We're both so busy and I know it disappoints him that the little time we have together is often spent watching a special needs child.
“Yup. Pete has accrued so much time off, it's like they can't stop going on vacation. She keeps saying they're going to take him somewhere like Disney, but when was the last time they took him anywhere?”
“I just don't understand why you take her crap. He's not your responsibility.”
I sit up sharply. “He's my brother.”
“You know I didn't mean that,” he rebuts apologetically. “I love him, too. But your mom takes advantage of that. She knows it's in your nature to take care of others, especially him. And she just dumps him on you. You're young. You should be letting loose.”
“I've scolded her a million times. But they pay for my schooling, and I get to keep living here for free, and she holds that over my head. Like I earn my keep here by being his nanny. And you're right, I won't have him put in a stranger’s care, not for the length of time she leaves.” I tuck my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them. “She has the upper hand. And I hate even having this talk because it makes me feel like I think Johnny is a burden. I am happy to watch him. He's such a good kid. And I'm here bitching about my life, when he's the one who's been dealt the unfair hand.”
“Hey,” Carter rests a hand on my lower leg reassuringly. “It's okay to be frustrated. This has nothing to do with your love for him. It has to do with your mom using that and using you. You take care of everyone else. I just want to make sure someone watches out for you.”
“I do have someone who watches out for me,” I say with a gentle smile, resting my hand on his. I mean it, even though we only get to see each other once a week lately, and I can’t be his primary focus with the pressures of med school, I know his thoughts are with me.
“I try. I know it seems like I'm always working or at school. But I will always be here for you. And I will make sure that you have fun and that you get to experience all life has to offer.”
Carter's tone is exceptionally tender, and somewhat larger than this conversation calls for. Like he's making a proclamation. He sits up and reaches into his pocket.
“I was saving this for the dinner we had planned this weekend, then your mom made the last minute trip and we had to cancel. I was going to wait, but I don't want to wait anymore, not a second longer.”
My eyes grow, my heart races. All the signs of what is about to happen are in front of me, but I won't believe it until I hear the words. He pulls a box out of his pocket and drops to one knee beside me on the bed.
“Vesper Rivers,” his voice wobbles, a contrast to the relaxed tone he had seconds before. “You are the most beautiful, generous, selfless, kind-hearted person I know. I want to be the man you deserve. And I would be humbled and honored if you would be my wife.”
“What?” I ask, unable to process the scene transpiring in front of me.
He chuckles nervously. “Vesp, will you marry me?”
“Will I—? Uh, ye—yes,” I answer, laughing.
He grabs my hand and slides on a solitaire ring. We embrace. Any nagging doubts or guilt I had earlier washes away. This feels good. This feels right. I couldn't pick a better man to be by my side in life.