“No, he’s busy with soccer camp. He’s having fun at college.” She shrugs. “I just try not to worry about him.” My mother and not worrying is like a newborn not crying. Impossible.
“And how’s Flynn been?” My mom gets a little shifty, her eyes darting toward the steps and back to me.
“How much time do you have?” I laugh and she waves her hand. “I want to hear about your date.” Her face softens and a wave of sadness flows through me.
“Is it wrong that I feel guilty?” My swallow is thick and the emotions are an anchor weighing me down, drowning me.
“No, sweetie, it’s natural after everything you’ve been through. But I also think you’re being too hard on yourself. Allow yourself to mourn, but don’t shut this guy out. It’s been five years, Carson. You deserve to move on and to experience happiness. You’re not replacing Maddox, not for yourself or Ava. Wren could be an addition, not a replacement. It’s a blessing to have two great loves in your life and for Ava to have another male role model.”
I know my mom is right, but the burden is still holding me back. Yet, I’m only being unfair to myself if I don’t try. And I’m being unfair to Wren by leading him on and not telling him everything or confiding in him with all my damage.
My mom grabs my hand and squeezes and the pitter patter of tiny feet race toward me down the hallway. “Honey, don’t be afraid to be happy. If anyone deserves it, it’s you.”
Twenty
Carson
Halfway through my house being built, I finally get to meet with the designer I hired from the beginning. Well, from when I switched to Wren, anyway. My old architect was convinced I could do everything myself, and I could, but I have the money so why stress myself out?
Sophia Presley is a friend of Wren’s and they work together a lot on projects. She has an excellent eye for design and I loved everything he showed me, which made me hire her on the spot. Today, finally, I’m meeting with them both to purchase and finalize all my decisions before the contractors place it all.
“Hi, am I late?” I walk into H+J architecture and am led to a conference room. Papers and designs are sprawled across the table. Wren has his sleeves rolled up his forearms and his hair looks a sexy, disheveled mess.
Over the past week, I’ve been thinking about our date and everything my mom told me, and I realize she’s right. I need to give him a chance. I deserve a shot at happiness and Ava deserves some stability. Not that I need a man in my life, but it would be nice to have in case a jar lid is on too tight or a big spider needs killing.
“No, you’re right on time. Sophia ran to grab her iPad but she’ll be right back.”
I nod and sit down across from where all the papers are scattered. An awkward silence settles over us. I can’t seem to look him in the eye, though I feel his gaze pinned on me.
“I’ve been thinking—” I start at the same time as he says, “So, have you thought about—”
We chuckle and I want to shake off the uncomfortable feeling in the room. Before either of us can finish our sentence, the door opens and in walks a freaking supermodel.
“Sorry that took so long. Oh, you must be Carson. It’s so nice to meet you.” Her smile is broad and genuine as it pulls at her pink lips. Her teeth are perfectly white and straight. Hell, everything about her is perfect.
Her long, white-blonde hair falls in waves over her shoulders. Her emerald eyes are inviting and see through my soul. She’s tall, wearing at least five inch heels. Her legs go on for days until I hit a burnt orange skirt which lands above her knees but is still conservative enough for work. A white blouse brings the outfit together and I itch with jealousy. Plus, I don’t think she’s wearing an ounce of makeup aside from her pink lip gloss and a hint of mascara. She could be a freaking Victoria’s Secret supermodel.
“Yes, hi, Ms. Presley. It’s so nice to finally meet you.” My smile feels tight where hers is welcoming. It must be nice to be so perfect.
“The pleasure is mine. Please, call me Sophia. I’m so excited to work on this with you. I love the decisions you already made, but I have some new adjustments and ideas I think you’ll be happy with.”
Over the course of the next hour, she shows me incredible designs and makes brilliant suggestions. It’s obvious she’s passionate about her work and she’s damn good at it. Bitch. Except she’s not a bitch. She’s incredibly sweet, which only makes it worse.
Still, it isn’t lost on me that over the entirety of the meeting, she kept touching Wren’s arm and smiling at him in a way that makes me believe they have a history. Why wouldn’t they? They’re both gorgeous. They’d make perfect little babies.
“I think we’re all set. I’ll take it from here. If you change your mind at all or have any questions, please call me directly. I want this house to be everything you want and more.” It sounds like a pitch and yet she’s perfected it to sound nothing but genuine.
“Thank you, Sophia.” I breathe a little easier knowing she’s about to leave. My reaction to her speaks volumes to my feelings for Wren. I like him more than I want to admit, but I realize now I need to talk to him and try to make this thing between us work. She’s at the door, one push away from leaving, but she stops with her hand on the vertical metal bar.
“Wren, drinks after work? We need to catch up.”
“Uh, yeah. Sure.” Sophia smiles and a hint of a blush graces her cheeks. God, and she’s modest. I want to kill her.
“I guess that’s all for today. I’ll see you…well, talk to you soon, I guess.” I gather my things and stand, ready to be out of there as soon as possible. I know the second I leave, Sophia will pounce on Wren for their date, but I can’t be around them a minute longer. It hurts my stomach to think about it.
“Carson, wait.”
“What Wren? You have to get ready for your date.” I’m being irrational and green has never been my color, but I storm out of there anyway.
As I walk to the car, I debate calling my mom to complain or cry or just to watch a freaking movie with me, but my phone rings before I get a chance to dial.
“Hey, Meg.”
She squeals into the phone instead of greeting me like a normal person. “Girl, pack your bags. We just booked a shoot in Vegas.” I almost drop my phone.
“I can’t just drop everything and fly to Vegas. I have a daughter to think about. She’s been with my parents more than she’s been with me these past few months with all the house stuff.”
“Exactly, think of the house. This is a lot of money, Car. Drop the kid at the in-laws’. You know they love to have her.” She’s right and I could always use the extra money.
“Okay. I guess we’re heading to sin city.”
Twenty-One
Carson
I inhale the dry air and let the hot sun tan my skin. Music blares across the way and the swim-up bar is flooded with twenty-one year old girls in thong bikinis hanging over anything with a working dick. Even if I never got pregnant with Ava, I don’t think I’d have ever been one of those girls. But hey, more power to ‘em.
“Drink up, bitch. We’re going out tonight.” Meghan hands me a Moscow mule and lifts her mug in cheers.
“Out? We have the shoot tomorrow. We can’t get wasted and stay out all night. We’re here for work, not play.”
“Speak for yourself. You know damn well I can work and party equally as hard. I’ll still show up tomorrow and kick ass.” I take a small sip of the drink and I think I’m instantly drunk. “You have to come out. At least for a little. It’s Vegas. You know what they say.”
“Yeah, yeah. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”
“No, I meant, when in Vegas, get trashed and fuck a stranger. It’s me. I say it.”
After getting our tan on and getting sufficiently tipsy, Meg drags me into the bathroom of our suite and spends forty-five minutes turning me into what she considers “girl next door sexy.” I feel like I’m about to star in a bad porn, but what do I know?
When she
’s done with me, I get dressed and leave her to do her own hair and make-up. I stare at my suitcase, hyper-aware of the fact that I have no club clothes to wear for a night out on the town. I’m standing in a cami and pajama shorts when Meg walks into the room on a huff.
“Why aren’t you dressed yet?”
“Because I knew you wouldn’t approve of anything I chose.”
“You’re right. Wear this.” My best friend’s luggage is packed to the brim and is twice the size of mine. I should’ve known she had other plans.
She tosses me a skimpy black dress that I’m sure won’t cover my ass. I think it’s either a top or a skirt, not a dress.
“I can’t wear this.”
“Why not?”
“I’m a mother.”
“Are you saying moms can’t be sexy?”
“Well, no.”
“Hush. You’re young. You’re hot. You’re single. We’re in Vegas. It’s time to live it up. Forget that you’re a single mom for one weekend and act like a normal twenty-five year old.”
I sigh and storm to her suitcase. I pull out a much more modest white dress with a sweetheart neckline and a slit up the left thigh. I get a begrudged nod of approval and throw it on. It’s sexier than anything I own or have ever worn before, but it’s all I got.
After tugging up the zipper on the side, I prop my arm on the wall and place the other on my hips. “You ready to let the dogs out?” If Meg thought I was going all weekend without making even one Hangover reference, she’s sorely mistaken.
With an eye roll, she grabs the tiny liquor bottles from the minibar and tosses one to me. Straight vodka. “Isn’t there a mini bottle of Malibu in there or something?”
“Man up. Literally. Tonight you’re getting laid.” My thoughts flit back to Wren and the possibility that he’s spending the weekend with that model, Sophia. I thought he and I could’ve been different. He made me feel something for the first time in years, but that was thrown away when he accepted the date with her. He said he would wait for me and take things slow, but it seems he lied about everything.
I down the rum I pulled from the fridge because I don’t have the tolerance that Meghan has and then we’re out the door. We head to the hotel club where music is thumping and the smell of sweat and sex permeates the space.
My best friend grips my elbow and pulls me in close. The smell of tequila fills the space between us, radiating off of her breath from our pregame. She tilts her head toward a couple of guys at the bar looking to be around our age.
“Those guys are gonna get us some drinks.”
“What?” She’s not making any sense.
“Just watch.” She insisted on not bringing our wallets because she swore we wouldn’t need them.
Why do we need credit cards when we have tits?
Meg turns on the charm as she struts to the handsome men at the bar. I don’t think I’ll ever have her level of confidence. The men are enamored with her and I stand back observing. I don’t want to interrupt because I think they’re well on their way to a ménage a trois at this point.
“Carson, come here.” She calls me like I’m a puppy in training, my treat being the men at her side.
I walk toward them, my right ankle giving out and almost causing me to eat shit. They probably think I’m drunk and depending on what type of guys they are, that could excite them or turn them off. Only the good guys fall under column B.
“Carson. That’s a unique name.” Wow, never heard that pick up line before.
“Not for me. I’ve had it my whole life.” He laughs like I told the world’s greatest joke and it takes every ounce of energy in my body to resist rolling my eyes.
“This is Owen and John. They’re also here on business.” Meg wiggles her eyebrows as if the two suits being businessmen is an aphrodisiac in and of itself. For her, I guess it is.
She’s sitting beside—and undoubtedly staking claim to—a rugged blond with a five o’clock shadow and round glasses. He’s cute, but she’s got her claws in him already.
My offering has black hair and piercing hazel eyes. He’s tall and built for a man in a suit. Though, his smile is lecherous and his pick-up lines are subpar at best. If Meg wants to hook up with this guy, she can be my guest, but I will not be partaking in the naked tango with this unoriginal skeeze.
I sit down and order a drink. I’ll charge it to the room if I have to because I don’t want Captain Boring to think I owe him anything. Over the next several minutes, John or Owen—I’m still not entirely sure who is who—talk my ear off about technology or hedge funds or engineering. Truth be told, I couldn’t tell you what they do for a living.
Sitting next to him makes me realize how much I miss Wren, which is a weird, foreign feeling.
Well, it’s not all that foreign. I miss Maddox every single day. But it’s new and I’m not used to missing anyone other than Maddox. And to think I barely know Wren and we’ve barely spent any time together, but here he is, lodged under my skin.
“Excuse me for a minute. I need to visit the ladies room.”
“I’m gonna go dance.” Meg winks at me and I smile encouragingly. Have fun.
To be fair, I do use the bathroom. It just happens to be in my suite right before I change into my comfy pajamas.
I pull out my phone to go over the schedule for tomorrow once more. I memorized all the details down to the amount of time I’ve allotted myself for coffee in the morning, but I believe if I’m not over prepared, I’m underprepared.
It’s only now that I realize we’re taking photos of Neil and Monica Jackman who are opening up their own branch of the architecture firm H+J Architecture. Neil is the son of George Jackman, the J in H+J. What are the freaking odds?
An interview coming out in a couple months, detailing their journey and process and we’re the ones taking the pictures. How did I not notice this before?
I want to believe this is a sign, that the universe is throwing me a bone, pointing me in the direction it wants me to head. But my relationship with the universe is rocky at best, and I don’t know what to believe.
If everything happens for a reason, what was the point of Maddox dying? Why did he have to be taken from me? How am I supposed to trust the universe considering all it’s taken from me? It’s caused me irreparable pain; a gaping hole sits in my chest where he used to be. It seems pointless to me. How can you say that was meant to be?
Am I supposed to trust the universe now and forget about the pain from my past? Or do I rule it up to being a giant coincidence?
I think I have my answer when I pull out my phone and find Wren’s name.
I assumed he’d be too busy with his date. Despite it being the twenty-first century, I have a missed call and a voicemail from him.
“Hey, Carson. It’s Wren. I just got home from my non-date with Sophia. My friend. Who I promise I’m not sleeping with. I meant every word I said to you and I still want to go on that second date, and I think you do too. Please call me back so we can talk about this. I’d love to see you.”
I smile at the sentiment, but am I ready for this? I have to think long term and in that sense, am I ready to go all in with him? At the first sign of trouble (I’m lookin’ at you, Sophia) I bolted because I was too scared.
Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions. The man wants a date. He’s not buying a ring already. Though, having a daughter makes casual dating a little more difficult. I’m not going to parade a bunch of men in front of her and allow her to pick who’s best.
I keep going back and forth between wanting to be friends, to begging him to kiss me, and then running the minute jealousy seared through my veins. Wren deserves better than that.
Wren deserves better than me.
҉ ҉ ҉
The following day, the shoot goes down without a hitch and we’re set to be featured in one of the biggest magazines in the US. Meghan wants to extend the trip for one more day to fully enjoy the Las Vegas experience, but I can’t. She wants to spend anothe
r night with her hotshot businessman, but I want to get home to my daughter.
Not only that, but I have yet to respond to Wren’s message. I don’t know what to say, but a part of me wants to hear him out. I can’t help but feel drawn to him. The pull between us is undeniable and has been from the beginning, if I’m willing to admit that to myself. I mean, I felt the attraction from the beginning, when he was accidentally insulting me and being a total ass the first time we met.
Instead of manning up and calling him, I resort to texting him while waiting in the airport. At least this gives me the opportunity to think about what I’m going to say and still regret it as soon as I hit send.
Carson: I got your message. I was in Vegas but I’m flying home today.
Wren: Business or play?
Carson: Business for me, play for Meghan.
Wren: When will you be home?
Carson: Around six.
What is he thinking and planning?
Several minutes pass while I await his response. We start boarding the plane and I worry I won’t hear from him again before take-off.
We’re instructed to turn our devices to airplane mode just as his response comes in.
Wren: I’ll see you then.
Twenty-Two
Wren
I don’t want to bombard Carson the minute she walks through the door, but the desire to be there when she gets home is strong. I wish things could be that simple, that I could pick her up at the airport and sail into a serious relationship with her with no qualms or barriers, but that’s not the reality.
She has a daughter and a dead ex-boyfriend. I don’t mean to sound cavalier about it all, because it’s heavy and it’s the reason I’m holding back. Plus, she’s my fucking client and I still haven’t figured out how I’m dealing with that yet.
I should come clean. I should tell her we can’t explore any type of relationship while we’re working together. That’s why I wanted to take things slow to begin with. I was hoping that by the time the house was finished we could explore a romantic relationship.
Selfless (A Carolina Coastal Novel Book 1) Page 10
