Selfless (A Carolina Coastal Novel Book 1)

by Kelsey Cheyenne

  But then she had to go and ask me to kiss her. And fuck if I’m going to give her everything she’s ever asked of me. I don’t know if that makes me smart or stupid for not turning her down, but I couldn’t take it back if I wanted to. Which I sure as hell don’t.

  Instead of rushing right to her place and throwing myself at her like I’m dying to, I wait impatiently until a suitable time when a five year old is more than likely in bed without it being too late. But I realize I have no idea what time children go to bed and I don’t want to be an imposition.

  At seven I show up and knock lightly on her door with a box of chocolate truffles in hand. I don’t plan to stay, but I want to do something to show her I missed her.

  She opens the door and I smile. She’s gorgeous in yoga pants and a Wilmington University T-shirt. Her hair is in a high messy bun and there’s not an ounce of make-up on her flawless face.

  She smiles when she sees me, her eyes lighting up and it causes a grin to tug at my cheeks. It makes me want to put that look on her face every day, like maybe I can play a part in her healing.

  “What are you doing here?” Her voice is full of surprise, but she keeps glancing over her shoulder, like she’s looking for someone.

  “I told you I’d see you when you got home.” I shrug. She blushes and once again glances over her shoulder. “Sorry for dropping by. I won’t keep you, but I wanted to give you this and welcome you home.”

  “Thank you, Wren. I’d invite you in but Ava’s still up.”

  So, five year olds stay up past seven pm. Noted.

  “Don’t worry about it. Another time.” I back away with my hands in my pockets, hating how abrupt and open-ended we keep leaving things.

  “Wait.” She takes one step into the hall, her bare feet literally making her one foot in and one foot out. I appreciate the metaphor, though I’m sure she doesn’t see it. Her toes are painted light pink and she’s wiggling them. When I look up to her eyes, I see her tugging on her hair, clueing me in to how nervous she is.

  “What’s up?” I don’t jump to conclusions because this could easily go south.

  And she’s your fucking client. You should be pushing her away, not bringing her chocolate.

  “About that second date.” She’s nervous, but I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. I wait and allow her to go on. One way or another, she has to say the words for herself. “I was hoping you would, um, still want to go out again—with me, I mean?” She’s gnawing on her lip hard enough to draw blood.

  I walk to her and tug her lip from between her teeth. Uncertainty rests in her gaze and it kills me. “I want nothing more than to go out with you again, Carson.” It’s Sunday and I don’t want to wait an entire week to see her again. “If you can swing it, why won’t we stop by and see the progress on your house and go to dinner afterward? Say Tuesday?”

  “Tuesday. I’ll see you then.” Before she can turn and leave, I lean down and give her a quick peck on the lips. I catch her off guard and her cheeks turn a tempting shade of pink. Without another word, she heads inside to her daughter and it’s a kick in the stomach how much I wish I were following behind her.

  ҉ ҉ ҉

  Work on Monday is busy and passes by in a blink. A few of my projects are finishing up and with fall and winter coming, things tend to slow down. In a short time, Carson will also no longer be my client and we can move forward, if that’s what she wants too.

  By Tuesday, I’m counting the minutes until my date with Carson. I pick her up and we check out her house. The progress is being made faster than I anticipated and the thought excites me beyond reason. Ironically, I’m ready to have her out of this aspect of my life because it means we can go public. If that’s what she wants. I have to keep reminding myself that my wants don’t necessarily align with hers.

  Unfortunately, the night goes downhill from there. The restaurant was double booked, forcing us to leave. We were starving and opted for Chick-fil-A, but they were out of their special sauce. Then someone ran a stop sign and narrowly missed us, but it still shook Carson up. When I dropped her off, she went for a hug and I went for a kiss, leading to an awkward and messy mix up. I’m scared to broach the subject of a third date at this point.

  I turn to leave with my head hanging when she stops me. “Can we get a redo on this night?” I breathe out a heavy sigh of relief at her request.

  “Please,” I say as I spin back around. “How about—”

  She shakes her head, which stops me. “No, my turn. I want you to come over for dinner Friday night. I’ll cook.” My palms sweat like a pubescent boy copping his first feel.

  “You said this is a redo, right? Does that make Friday our second date or our third?” I smirk, pushing her buttons. I’m not expecting anything to happen, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to point out the famous third date.

  For once, she doesn’t shy away. “Our third and I have a very special night in the works. Six o’clock. Don’t be late.” She offers me one last peck and then heads inside.

  For the next three days, I’ll attempt to control myself and not make any assumptions about what our next date will bring.

  AKA, I’ll be taking a lot of cold fucking showers.

  Twenty-Three

  Carson

  I’m not stupid. I know what Wren is expecting tonight, or at least, what he’s hoping for. I’m well aware of the myth or the legend, whatever you want to call it, that is the third date. Back in the days of dating, it would signify moving to the next stage in the relationship, in the physical sense, I assume to test sexual compatibility.

  In my generation, people put out before they know the person’s name. Wren and I are strange, in a sense, in the fact that we are taking things slow and he’s been patient with me. Well, as far as I know, anyway.

  I still want to ask him about his date with Sophia. I planned to ask him during our date on Tuesday, but everything was already falling apart and I didn’t want to totally kill the mood. It’s something that’s been eating me up inside since I left his office the day I met her, and I need to know if anything happened between them, that night or ever.

  Tonight, however, our third date will be a little different than those rumored nights in the history of dating. For one, I’m not ready to sleep with him. I’ve only been with one man and it seems like a huge step to take. Especially on a third date. I mean, I still barely know the guy. But I do know his name, so I’m still one step above other people my age.

  For our third date, I’m making a staple in the world of comfort food—spaghetti. Not only is it easy to make, but it’s Ava’s favorite meal and tonight I’m taking arguably a bigger step than sleeping with Wren—I’m introducing him to my daughter and her to him.

  It’s going to be a little awkward and uncomfortable. Nerves rattle through me like white water rapids slamming into a river’s rocks. I have an hour until Wren arrives and I have to explain to Ava what’s happening tonight. It’s now or never.

  “Sweetheart, can you come here for a second?”

  She comes out of her room, her red hair in two French braids down her back. She’s carrying her favorite doll with her, though her face has a mask of sassy irritation on it that I know she got from me. “What, Mommy? Barbie was in the middle of work and you’re keeping her from her patients.” If my daughter doesn’t become a doctor I’ll be truly shocked.

  “There’s something I need to run by you. Tonight, I’m having a friend come over to meet you and have dinner with us.” She keeps brushing her doll’s hair, not a care in the world for what I’m saying. “It’s a boy and his name is Wren.”

  “Like a date?” My daughter is too smart for her own good.

  “Kind of, yes.”

  “He’s a boy? Is he my date?” Her eyes go wide, the innocent green orbs looking up at me.

  “No, baby. He’s my date. I want you to meet him and see what you think.”

  “Did he know Daddy?” My heart breaks as her voice lowers to a
whisper.

  “No, sweetheart, he didn’t know Daddy. But I have a feeling Daddy is looking out for all of us. I wouldn’t introduce you to Wren if I didn’t think Daddy would be okay with it.” I have to believe every sign and push from above isn’t the universe talking to me, but it’s Maddox telling me it’s okay.

  “Is he bringing me a present?” I laugh at my adorably spoiled daughter.

  “No, honey. I want you to get to know him and tell me what you think of him. Can you do that for me?”

  “I’ll try. But without a present, we already have some problems.” I shake my head and tell her to go play. I need to set the table and start preparing our dinner.

  I throw the garlic bread in the oven, almost second guessing the decision. Garlic isn’t known to be date material. But I cave because I know Ava will pitch a fit if I don’t have the bread for her.

  I light my favorite fall-scented candle to mask the garlicky smell and eye the clock. At 5:59, my heart goes haywire and I watch the seconds tick by, knowing how prompt he is. In five, four, three, two, knock knock. Right on time.

  My palms are sweating and no matter how many times I wipe them on my jeans, they won’t dry. My nerves are frayed and I almost wish I was a stereotypical housewife with a painkiller addiction to dull my anxiety.

  I walk to the door and a million questions run through my head. Is this too soon? Am I giving him mixed signals? Am I dressed too casually? Should I have made a fancier meal? Why did I think this was a good idea?

  I reach for the handle and it takes my sweaty palm two tries to open the door. I plaster on a smile, praying it reads as genuine, and open the door.

  Wren looks devastatingly handsome in jeans and a blue short sleeved button up with a tiny pineapple pattern. I should’ve changed into something nicer.

  “Hi. Come on in. You look nice.” My voice is muted, foreign to my ears, not that I can hear anything over the blood thumping through my veins.

  “I brought this. I hope it’s okay. I didn’t want to seem presumptuous but I also didn’t want to show up empty handed and I thought this was a good option for a date.” I feel better knowing he’s as awkward and nervous as I am, though he doesn’t know why yet. I take the bottle of wine he bought and place it on the counter. I don’t open it yet or offer him any, knowing I don’t plan to drink in front of my daughter.

  “There’s a reason I wanted you to come over tonight.” I find myself tugging on my hair and force myself to stop. “I’ll be right back.” I walk to my daughter’s room and after a minute of arguing and promising to give her an extra scoop of ice cream, she agrees to come out to meet Wren and be on her best behavior.

  Nerves tug at the corner of my lips as I hold Ava’s hand and walk her to the living room to meet my date. Wren’s face conveys excitement mixed with an ounce of confusion, but when he notices the tiny hand wrapped in mine, shock and awe register instead.

  “Ava, sweetheart, this is Wren. He’s a friend of Mommy’s. Wren, I wanted you to meet my daughter.”

  My hands are shaking as I adjust to this new territory. Where do we go from here?

  Wren squats down in front of me to meet my daughter’s eye. Like a gentleman, he offers her his hand. “Hi, Ava. I’ve heard so much about you. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

  “Wren.” My daughter tests his name on her tongue, almost like she’s getting used to the idea of him. “Mommy promised me extra ice cream to be nice to you.”

  Way to keep a secret, Ava. But Wren is good spirited and laughs as he glances up at me. “She did, huh? Well, how about next time I come see you, I bring you a new toy. A doll or a scooter or something?” He half grimaces up at me and shrugs because I’m sure he’s out of his element and has no idea what a five year old girl wants. Sure, he has nieces, but Ava could be a tomboy for all he knows.

  “I want a doll that has red hair. Just like me and Daddy!” My heart simultaneously breaks and shudders at her outburst. I look down at my date with a frown tugging at my lips.

  “I’m sorry,” I mouth to him, but he’s a good sport and smiles back, shaking his head like it’s no big deal. I need to tell him the whole story about Maddox before we get in any deeper.

  “I’ll be on the lookout for one,” he tells my daughter, and content with his answer, she skips away to the table.

  “Who’s ready to eat?” I grab the food to break the awkward tension engulfing me, or at least push it to the side for the time being. Ava slurping her noodles helps and she laughs when Wren joins in.

  This is how things could be with us. It could be easy. We could be a family. Not with Wren necessarily, but I’m finally ready to admit that this is what I want. This happiness. This wholeness.

  Twenty-Four

  Carson

  After we put Ava to bed—yes, we, because she demanded her new best friend read her a bedtime story—I open the bottle of wine and pour two full glasses. If I’m going to dive into the details of my former-love-of-my-life, I need wine. Lots of it.

  Wren follows me to the couch, where I sit towards the arm and face him, one foot under me and the other on the floor. Nervous energy courses through me and the urge to tug on my hair is strong, but the oversized wine glass is occupying my hands.

  I can tell Wren doesn’t know what to do with himself, but he lowers onto the sofa at a safe distance, being a gentleman. “Do you want to watch TV or a movie?”

  I need to put him at ease. “No, um, I wanted to talk to you about something.” Yeah, because telling someone we need to talk, always puts them at ease.

  “Okay.” He places his wine glass on the coffee table and I take a big gulp before following suit.

  I always believed in just ripping off the Band-Aid, so I dive right in. “It was my first day of college, my first class, when I met Maddox.”

  “Whoa, Carson, you don’t have to tell me anything.” His voice is soft, though, encouraging. Maybe he doesn’t want to hear the story either, but he needs to know everything before he decides if he wants to be with me.

  “I know, but I want to. I need to.” He nods and after I inhale a shaky breath, I continue. “Maddox was…charismatic. Charming. Over-the-top and not afraid to embarrass himself. He singled me out in that lecture hall, sitting next to me, and asking me on a date right then and there.” I feel the smile tugging at my lips as the memory warms me from the inside out.

  “I’d never had a boyfriend at that point. He was my first…everything.” My cheeks heat because I probably could’ve left that part out. “Sorry. Um, anyway, we had big plans, you know? Not normal eighteen year old plans, but adult ones. Maddox was always talking about the future; getting married, going to Paris, our kids. The whole nine. I thought we were perfect together. He wasn’t a normal college freshman and neither was I. We didn’t want to go to parties and get drunk or anything. We just wanted to be together. We moved fast, living together almost immediately, like he wanted to live life to the fullest and get as much time together as we could. I didn’t get it at first, his mentality.” I take a moment to brace myself, to calm my emotions and take another long sip of the delicious red wine.

  “I didn’t know he was sick. I didn’t know he was planning our future based on an intangible reality. He lied to me about it. He was in remission when we met, but it came back worse than the first time. It was rare, but it happens. The treatments were going well for a while, but eventually, they stopped working. He wanted to give up. But…then we found out I was pregnant.” My voice catches and my eyes well with unshed tears. Wren comes to me, rubbing my back as I compose myself.

  My voice is thick when I continue. “He fought like hell. He wanted to be here for Ava more than anything. But he was so sick and in so much pain and the treatments stopped working altogether. We had a few months left and I prayed like hell it would be enough. I wanted him to meet his daughter. I think it was his last wish.

  “But he didn’t. He lost his battle to cancer too soon. He was too young and too full of life still. I went into la
bor that day, early. I almost lost Ava too, but she’s my little fighter. She gets that from him. And her red hair, of course. She’s so much like him it scares me and thrills me at the same time. I can’t think of you as a replacement for him, not for myself or for my daughter and I don’t want to burden you down with responsibility you’re not ready for. The fact is, we’re a package deal. That’s why I wanted you to meet her so soon, so you can understand and I wanted to test the waters with her, too. She’s young and doesn’t quite understand it yet, but I don’t want her to wake up one day in ten years and resent me for replacing her father.”

  I grab a picture frame from the table behind me, cradling it in my hands. Slowly, I hand it over to Wren, to let him see the picture I cherish so much. “I keep pictures of him around for my daughter. I want her to know everything about him and to never feel afraid to ask me questions, especially the hard ones. Just the other day she asked me ‘if Daddy were still around, would you still love each other?’”

  I stop talking, the emotions overwhelming. For the first time since I started this story, Wren opens his mouth. “What did you tell her?” He’s nervous. I’m sure he doesn’t want to live in a dead guy’s shadow, but the reality is, Maddox will always be here and be around. I don’t want him to feel threatened by my deceased boyfriend, but I wouldn’t want Maddox to feel replaced either. No one tells you how hard it’s going to be, losing a boyfriend or soulmate or spouse. You just have to navigate through the murky waters every day, the best you can.

  “I told her, of course we would. She’s five, there’s no other answer. Is it a lie? I can’t answer that either. The truth is, I have no way of knowing if he and I would’ve lasted. I like to think we would’ve, though. That we could’ve beaten the odds and stayed together and in love.”

  “I’m sorry you went through that. You were so young.” He’s looking at the picture again. It’s my favorite picture of Maddox and me, before he got sick again, with big, goofy smiles on our faces. I want my daughter to see us like that, happy and full of life. Hell, I want to see us like that. It’s how I remember him; not as the sick man in pain, but as my first love and all the happiness he brought me.