Into You (8 page)

“Did you?” 

He shook his head. “It was my father’s dream. Not mine.”

“I bet he didn’t take it well.”

“No.” Carter sucked down the rest of his drink.  “Jamie took it worse. She hounded me constantly, telling me I was making a mistake I’d r
egret for the rest of my life.”

Carter paused as the waitress appeared with the next round. “Another,” he ordered before even taking a sip.  Once the waitress left he picked up his glass, threw back his head and finished it in one large gulp. Carter wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and co
ntinued.

“Jamie and my father couldn’t stand each other. Yet they found a way to team up to try and pressure me into changing my mind.”

“Why didn’t she like him?”

Resentment rang heavy in his tone. “I know he comes across with a certain amount of charm, but he’s an arrogant ass.” He said as he examined the empty glass, “At least ever since his mid-life crisis,” he held up his hand s
ignaling the waitress for more.

“I wouldn’t know.” I tried to diffuse the anger and aggression I felt seeping out of Carter, “I take my orders from Sandy, the office manager.”

“Office manager,” he sneered. “He had a simple family practice seven years ago. Suddenly it wasn’t good enough.  He needed to hire an office manager to double his profits.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

Carter shook his head. “He made a good living. We needed for nothing. We wanted for nothing. There was no need for more.”

“I still don’t understand how doing better is a bad thing.”

“Because he didn’t do better,” Carter snapped. “A lot of his patients had been going to him for years. They depended on him. And when he changed the nature of his practice they couldn’t afford him.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t just turn them away.”

“You’re right.
He
wouldn’t. That’s what Sandy was for.  She acted as the buffer so his patients couldn’t appeal to his conscious.”

Once again the waitress placed a drink before Carter.  He picked up his glass and took another long gulp. “Two more,”
he called as she walked away.

“I think you’re exaggerating.”

“It doesn't really matter. One afternoon my mother couldn’t reach Mr. Wonderful,” he sniggered. “She was staying at the shore house and found out he cancelled his appointments for the day. She tried him on his cell, at home. He didn't answer. She called me worried sick. I promised I’d check up on him.” Carter threw his head back and emptied the glass.

Carter’s grey eyes grew dark and angry. I could see the pain in his face as he relived it. "I let myself in the house and called out for him.
Nothing. No answer. I looked in the garage and saw his car was there, so I knew he never left the house."

Getting a sense of where he was heading, I wanted to give him an ou
t. "You don't have to do this."

He ignored me and continued. "I heard noise coming from upstairs; I didn't know what kind of noise, just noise. So I went to check it out. The house alarm was off. It would've been funny if it was on. Arrogant bastard didn't think anyone would come looking." Carter leaned across the table, his arms folded in front of him. "Or maybe he didn't put it on because he didn't want a warning, he wanted to get caught."

"Carter."

He shook his head, "No. I want to tell you, Liz. I owe it to you, Elizabeth.
My sweet, beautiful, Elizabeth." The vodka was affecting him big time.

"I didn't know what to think or expect. I mean who would right? He's my father. The only one he's supposed to screw is my mother. As I got closer to his bedroom I heard moaning." He sniggered, "At first I thought it was him. I thought something happened." He stopped to toss down another glass. "I rushed toward his room. By the time I realized he was with someone it was too late. I saw her. That slut-bitch-whore was riding my father like a bull at the rodeo."

Not knowing what to say or how to react, I did the only thing I could think of. The only thing that felt natural. I reached across the table and put my hand over his.

"I'm so sorry."

His eyes dropped to our hands. Carter fell silent.  There was nothing more to say. I wondered after all those drinks, how he kept himself upright.

"So that's why I went. I wasn't about to let my prick of a father get anywhere near you. Not tonight. Not ever."

"Carter, I'm not interested in him, at all."

"You're the first one I ever told." He looked up and allowed our eyes to meet.

I didn't know how to answer, so I didn't say anything.

He turned away and shook it off. “No biggie,” his voice cracked, “I walked out and never looked back. Not once.”

"What do you mean? You never confronted her? Or him?”

He shook his head, “No. I was done.
Done with her. Done with both of them.”

“Liar. I saw the way you looked at her, you didn’t move on.”

“Yes, I did,” his voice rose at the end, in a sing-song manner, his eyes were red, and glassy, “And I’ll be damned if I ever allow myself
to be hurt like that again.”

I didn't know if I should respond to him now or wait until he sobered up. I went with now. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve understood.”

Carter stared down into a full glass, as if searching for answers in it. Finding none he sucked down the drink.  “I- I didn't want you to know. I didn't want you to think of him like that. The only one I want you riding is me.” His words were coming out a bit slower than before, the effect of the drinks and the night's events were wearing on him.

Realizing Carter’s inebriated state, I didn’t respond.  My heart opened up and my feelings for him came gushing out. I wanted to wrap my arms arou
nd him and take his pain away.

“C’mon handsome,” I winked sliding out of the booth, “It’s time to go.”

“Okay,” he agreed reaching for the bill as he stumbled to his feet and pulled out his wallet.

“Hand over the keys,” I insisted with an outstretched hand.

Carter opened his mouth, I thought he'd protest, but instead he reached out and put his hand on the back of the booth, steadying himself. Next, he reached into his pocket and quietly handed the keys over.

Carter staggered out to the
car, I stayed close to his side in case he wanted to hold onto me for support. He didn't say anything, but every time I glanced at him, his eyes were glued to me, those sad, grey eyes.

Chapter 22

Carter

Although my senses were skewed I realized my confession left me vulnerable and I didn’t like the feeling. Not one bit. I felt like a circus acrobat who missed the swing, free falling with no safety net. I waited fo
r the moment I felt the splat.

I wished I could take it back, do the whole night over. I knew it was impossible. Instead I sat in the passenger seat of my own car, waiting for Elizabeth to spew out the let’s be friends speech. I couldn't blame her. I
knew I deserved it.

All evening I made one mistake after another, watching them snowball. Telling her about Jamie, that was an avalanche. Why didn't I come up with a cover story? I could've let her believe I was just a spoiled rich kid having wet dreams about his stepmom. But no, I had to go with the truth. After tonight was over she wouldn’t want to see me again. While I told myself it was for the best, I knew I had
to make sure it didn’t happen.

Chapter 23

Elizabeth

On the drive home Carter had become sullen, silent and infinitely more attractive than he had been just a few hours earlier. I wondered what suddenly made him so irresistible. Was it the fact that I knew he came with baggage?
Full, heavy baggage.

I’d been drawn to him from the moment we met, but now I couldn't deny that I felt more than a simple attraction.
Much, much more. My churning emotions terrified me. I pulled the car to a stop in his driveway.

“We’re here.”

Carter looked out the window and nodded.

I got out and made my way around to his door. He opened it and stood on his own. I wasn't about to force any unwanted or unwarranted help on him. We walked across the short driveway to the front door of the small, humble, cape house Carter called home. He put his hands in his pockets to search for the keys forgetting for the moment I drove. Reading the confusion on his face I jingled the fob in front of him.

“Looking for this?”

Carter looked at me sheepishly and smiled.

He took the key ring from me and tried with some difficulty to place the house key in the lock on the front door. Focused completely on his struggle, Carter didn’t seem to notice anything else. I placed my hand over his. Together, we managed to fit the key in the hole.

He stared at me, a smile playing on the corner of his lips. Feeling the weight of his stare I turned
to face him. Our eyes locked.

Carter looked awed. All the times I caught him staring, he never looked like this. “You’re the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.”

“Thank you,” I answered suddenly self-conscious.

Carter's lips brushed against mine so lightly they barely touched. Inching closer to me, he dropped his mouth and nuzzled against the nape of my neck forcing a
moan of pleasure to escape me.

Carter continued to close in until he had me pinned against the front door. He pressed the weight of his body against mine, his fingertips skimming over me while eng
aging me in a shower of kisses.

"E-
liz-a-beth." he whispered my name.

My insides twisted and twirled, soaring from heady heights, like I was jumping out of an airplane. Clumsily he reached around me for the doorknob, turned the handle, and sent us stumbling inside.

I giggled righting myself and ran my index finger over his bottom lip. “You’ve practiced that haven’t you?”

He took hold of my hand and gave a devilish grin, “Once or twice.”

“I bet.”

“Come with me,” he whispered, standing so close our bodies touched
and his breath tickled my ear.

"I don't think I should."

"Come." He wrapped his arm around the small of my back and yanked me against him.

I nodded.

Carter clumsily led me through the house to his bedroom. Every fiber of my being told me to stay in the living room on neutral territory, but I found myself unable to utter any words. At the very least I'd get to take a peek at one of the most intimate areas of Carter's life. A place he'd spent much time, and I'd no doubt, brought many before me.

Not wanting anything to happen I might regret
, I tried to keep my mind occupied with useless information and focused on the surroundings. Maybe they'd tell me more about him.

No.
Nothing really. The cherry wood furniture and sleigh bed were the focus. The dark walls were mostly bare. A lone mirror hung above the dresser to the left of the bed. I guess it was better than finding a mirror on the ceiling. With Carter, I took nothing for granted. No pictures were hung. Not even decorative ones. The only adornment of the room was the large screen plasma television hung above an entertainment center.

Carter gave my hand a light tug, pulling me over to the bed. He sat on the edge and motioned to the spot beside him.

“Sit.”

I hesitated, trying to ignore the desire pulsating throughout my body. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I won’t bite. Not unless you want me to.”

I averted my eyes, “I should leave now
.”

“Don't."
His grey eyes, glassy from the alcohol were piercing, intense. "Stay,” he paused, then swallowed hard, “please.”

“I really wouldn't feel right being . . . intimate tonight.”
Definitely not tonight.

Until this point I managed to avoid sex like a skyscraper avoids an octopus. One just doesn't go with the other. I held steadfast and steady. We'd only been dating a little over a month, but each time we saw each other I wondered if that would be the night he broke me.

Each time Carter invited me to his house I declined.  And I'd yet to invite him into my house. He straight out terrified me. At least my feelings for him did, and I feared taking the relationship to the next level. I worried sleeping together would ruin the magic and intimacy between us, not add to it.

My sister thought I was crazy, but from the night we met I felt like Carter had an agenda and sex was it. Although he didn’t make it obvious I could read between the lines of his blasé manner
and his noncommittal attitude.

Carter didn’t seem interested in the details of my private life, nor did he offer any of his own. I understood that a little better now. He had no desire to meet my friends or introduce me to his. He hadn’t discussed bringing me home to meet Mom, and did his best to steer clear of discussing his family.
Except, of course, for telling me that his father was dead.

At first I conjured up a worst case scenario, imagining him as a serial killer or a psychotic with antisocial tendencies. I kept telling myself I'd end the relationship, but each time I considered it, Carter threw me a curveball.