by Dylan Allen
“Oh my God,” I groan and cover my eyes with my hands and turn away from both of them.
“You can’t tell Beth, not yet.” Joe’s voice is frantic.
“Joe! Go, now,” my mother hisses and I hear the slap of feet on the hardwood and then the slam of the door, but I’m still afraid to open my eyes.
I don’t even know how to look at my mother. I don’t understand how this could have happened. Joe is…old.
“You can look now,” My mother’s says in a dour tone.
I move my hand, see her still struggling with her dressing gown and avert my eyes. “Mom, what the hell? He’s old enough to be your—”
She points a finger at me, her eyes shooting fire. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Carter Bosh. I don’t have to explain myself to you or anyone. And I’m certainly not going to. If you want to wait for Beth, go do it in the lobby. And if you don’t want to see what you just saw again, I suggest you call before you come by here and my place. Because whatever he’s old enough to be, I’m old enough to enjoy it.”
And then she swivels on the balls of her feet and marches indignantly down the hall to the room Joe must have gone into, slamming the door hard behind her.
I stand there stunned for a minute before my brain unscrambles. I’m going to pretend I didn’t see any of that.
My mother’s love life is none of my business and I’ve got my own to sort out. I’ve spent almost two years without the love of my life and I finally have the chance to make her mine again and for good. But first I need to explain about Lisa and hope she can forgive me.
Not a Good Time
BETH
“I have a surprise for you,” my coworker, Gia singsongs as she rests her ample hip against the edge of the counter next to me.
I only spare her a quick glance, but it’s enough to see a huge grin splitting her bright red lips and mischief dancing in her eyes.
“Spit it out, I’ve been working on this roux all day and if I leave it off the heat too long, the last hour I spent stirring it will be for naught.”
“God forbid,” she gasps in mock horror and I can’t help but laugh because I know that I’m obsessive when it comes to cooking, but I also feel like I’ve got a lot to prove.
“Gia, just tell me,” I say through my chuckle.
“Carter Bosh is here.”
The laughter dies in my suddenly dry, tight throat and I take an involuntary step back.
But it only makes my heart beat harder.
“But … he can’t be here,” I whisper, from my behind my hand.
“With his entire band. They just sat down and are placing orders for lunch.” She tips her head toward the swinging doors of the kitchen.
I squint at her. “We’re closed for the wedding. There is no lunch,” I remind her in annoyance.
“Beth, he asked to see you.”
My heart clenches. “Oh…I see,” I say, my scalp tingles in anticipation.
“You see? The lead singer from Blue Clover is here looking for you.” She says like I’m a moron.
I look over her shoulder at the door. She has no clue about our past and I can understand why she’s so excited.
But, Carter showing up here can’t be a good thing. Not after that scene at his apartment.
Our boss is always lurking close by, and I’m sure having a screaming fight with my…whatever he is, wouldn’t be a good look.
We all went to do our DNA tests separately and we’ve been waiting for the lab to email the results. Because of the holidays, things moved slower, so the results could take ten days.
They warned us that any shared DNA markers, no matter how few, would render the test inconclusive. Having samples from our mothers would help them say with certainty, But that just wasn’t possible. So, I’m just hoping like hell we get answers that don’t lead to more questions.
“Beth, Carter Bosh asked for you,” she repeats snapping her fingers under my nose.
“I hope you told him I was busy.”
She looks at me like I’m demented. “Of course I didn’t. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning when I told him you’d be right out.” She waggles her eyebrows and I blanch in horror.
“You did what?” I shout. The rest of the kitchen staff look up from their work. Most of them shoot daggers at me before they get back to work. I smile apologetically in their general direction and turn back to my roux.
“Why did you do that?” My whisper is sharp, my scowl deep and fierce—anyone else would be taking a step back.
Gia just smiles even bigger. “Because I’m not a liar. And Carter Bosh just walked in asking for you. It’s like…every girl’s dream.”
I glare at her and she shrugs, crosses her arms over her ample bosom, and tosses her head. The huge bun of chocolate brown curls sways beneath the cage of the hairnet she’s got on. It’s the same hairnet I’ve got on. I’m sweating and probably smell like pork grease. No way, am I going out there.”
She’s watching me intently and grinning like a drunk Cheshire cat.
“You can forget whatever you’re thinking. I don’t want to see him.”
That’s when I notice that the rest of the kitchen staff are frozen in place. All of them have turned and their gazes are all pointed to something over my shoulder.
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that, and I’m praying like hell I can change your mind.” Carter’s resonant, deep, melodic voice floats through the air and wraps itself around me in an intimate embrace that’s more tangible than the hand Gia laid on my shoulder.
I spin on my heels and my knees nearly buckle when I take a step back and trip. I grab the counter to steady my fall. But it’s not the counter my hand touches, but the blistering hot griddle I’ve been heating to toast the corn cakes.
“Oh, fudge cakes and damnation.” I turn my back to him and cup my hand. I can’t bite back the moan of agony as the pain in my hand balloons by the second.
“Beth, oh my God.” Gia cups my elbow and leads me over to the sink. I move with her, despite the throbbing pain in my hand, I’m also hyperaware of the presence behind me.
I don’t need to turn back around to know how he’s looking at me. I know his every expression. In my mind’s eye, I can see the way his full, wide, light pink lips are flattened and turned down at the corners. I can picture his heavy dark brows slashed downward with worry.
His glittering eyes are full of the tender concern that’s captured the imagination of every woman with a pulse.
“Beth,” he says softly as he comes to stand next to us at the sink that Dina is holding my hand over while she runs a stream of cold water over my blistering palm Goose bumps prickle my skin and even though I’m breathing—hard and fast—I feel starved for oxygen.
A gagging sound breaks the spell and I look to find Gia turned away from my blistering hand.
A strong hand wraps around my shoulder as I sway, the pain and the sight of the huge white circle on the fleshiest part of my palm
“I got you, Beth … I got you,” Carter whispers in my ear and the tears of pain that are welling my eyes don’t sting so badly suddenly. His words are like a shot of analgesic sunshine straight into my veins.
Every muscle in my body relaxes and I sag back against his broad muscular chest. I lean against him, not worried at all that he can’t take my weight. I know that Carter would never let me fall.
“I can’t leave the kitchen, we’ll be down a cook as it is, can you take her back to the office?” Gia speaks over my head like I’m not there.
“Of course. I’ll take her.” His response is quick, also over my head and if I hadn’t accidentally burned my hand, I would think they conspired together to make this happen.
They both sound nearly … cheerful.
I shake my head and try to step out of his hold. When he doesn’t let go, I look up at him, my vision clouded by pain, but determined not to set myself on a path that can only end badly for me. “Didn’t you come here to eat? You’re with your band, right?”
/> I’m breathless and my voice is tight with pain. I close my eyes against a wave of pain that starts to move up my arm.
Carter’s wraps an arm around my shoulder and turns me so I can’t avoid his eyes any longer. They pin me in place and he lowers his head and his breath is warm and sweet against my neck. “I did come in with my band. They came to eat. I came for you.”
I don’t know if it’s relief, pain, surprise, or exhaustion that makes my head swim. When I try to answer him, the words feel so far away. Then, everything goes dark.
What Are You Waiting For?
CARTER
I manage to catch her before she crumples to the ground. I scoop her up into my arms. She moans and I look down at her heart-shaped face to see that her thick feathery lashes are fluttering.
It’s hard to make myself look away from her when I’ve deprived myself of the pleasure for so long. I went to the catering company’s office only to be told they were working this event in Brooklyn. Our show is at the Barclay Center and we’ve been there every day this week for rehearsal. The guys came with me when I said I was running out to eat.
I was glad, I needed the moral support.
Beth was so angry with me after our last conversation and I don’t blame her. I was scared and acted like a child who didn’t know the world didn’t revolve around him.
So before I tell her the truth about us, I want to make sure she knows that even if the results hadn’t been clear, I would still want her in my life.
I look over at her friend. Her dark eyes are as wide as saucers and her face is pale.
“Where’s that office you mentioned?” I snap and she jumps like I startled her.
“Oh my God, I’m such an idiot. Of course, this way. There’s a couch and a first aid kit.” She turns and starts toward the back of the kitchen.
“Carter?” Beth calls my name and I look down to find her fully awake, but her eyes are glazed with pain and confusion.
“You’re okay, baby. I know it hurts.”
“It does,” she murmurs and closes her eyes against it.
I follow her friend through the door she’s holding open and into a dingy little office with a couch that looks like it’s been handed down several times.
“You want me to lay her on that?” I eye the stained, threadbare couch disdainfully.
“It’s clean, just old,” she snaps. She lays the first aid kit and bottle of water down and rushes from the room.
Just like that, we’re alone.
Her beautiful face is contorted in pain, her eyes still closed as she cradles her burned hand against her chest.
I know I need to at least get a bandage on her and tear my eyes off her and scan the room for an alternative to the couch.
There isn’t one.
“Can I put you on your feet for just a second?” I whisper.
She nods but doesn’t open her eyes.
“Lean on me, okay?” I wait for her to nod before I lower her to the ground. I wrap one arm around her waist and shrug out of my jacket sleeve, switch arms and take it off altogether. I lay it on the couch, covering the most offensive stains with it before I prop her up on it.
“I’m so embarrassed. I don’t think I’ve ever fainted in my whole life,” she says and throws her head back so that the creamy olive skin of her throat is bared to me. The small beauty mark right in the center like a bull’s-eye for my lips. I lean forward, just want to get close enough to …
The door comes flying open.
“Beth, are you okay?” Her friend comes to stand next to me and shoots a worried glance over her shoulder at the door.
“My hand is killing me, and I’m embarrassed, but otherwise, I’m okay.” She gives a half-hearted chuckle and shoots her friend a deprecating smile.
“I’m so glad.” She shoots a dark look in my direction. “Someone tagged you in a picture on IG and there’s a line forming out the door.”
I grimace, but shrug. “Yeah, that’s what happens, I’m sorry we usually give a heads-up when we’re coming.”
“We called the police, they’re going to do some crowd control. It’ll be fine. Can you clean that? Put a Band-Aid on it?” She nods at the first aid kit and I just want her to leave again so I can finally have my girl to myself.
“Yeah, I got this, go ahead.”
“Oh, Carter, you don’t have to—” She starts to dismiss me and I stop her with the shake of my head.
“I do. I have to,” I say meaningfully.
“Beth, I’ll let Emily know you’re down for a bit. I’ll see you later,” Gia calls as she turns and rushes back out of the room.
The door closes and I look back to find her watching me, and for a second I’m worried that she meant what she said about not wanting to see me.
She smiles. It’s tentative, pain lingers in her eyes, but it’s there and and it’s enough.
“I’ve missed you so fucking much.” Her smile disappears, her eyes drop to her lap and she leans away slightly. I stare at the top of her bowed head and want to punch myself.
I came on too strong. I clear my throat and reach for the first aid kit.
“Let’s get you bandaged up.” I pick up her injured hand to examine it. She flinches when I press the gauze to it.
“I’m sorry.” I blow on the huge blister that’s forming to cool it down.
“It’s okay. It just hurts a lot. Burns are an occupational hazard, and I think this looks worse than it is. They just always hurt so much,” she says quietly, her eyes still downcast.
I had imagined our reunion much differently. She was going to turn around, see me and rush into my arms. But, now I realize that this year of being idolized by every woman I meet has tainted my grasp on reality.
She hadn’t even wanted to see me.
“I’m sorry I walked in like that. I know you didn’t want to see me.”
“I didn’t mean that, Carter. I’m just mad at you,” she says softly and she looks at me full on, the unflinching honesty in her eyes slays me.
“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t bring her back to my place for sex. I spilled a pitcher of beer all over her at a bar around the corner. We work together, but she lives in Queens so I offered to let her use my shower. That was it. And that shit she said—the people in this business, they’re--”
“That’s not what I’ve been upset about.” She snaps.
“It’s not?” I blink.
She shakes her head.
“No, I was upset about Thanksgiving. I need to able to trust you. When things get hard, or you don’t get your way, you can’t just throw your hands up and walk away or say things that you can’t take back.”
Her aim is true and her words carry the echo of a sentiment my father used to express and I wish I’d started with that part of my apology.
Satisfied that her burn is properly bandaged, I sit down next to her.
“I’m…impulsive. I know that. But, I swear to you that I will never open my mouth to say anything like what I said the other night.
“Don’t swear, don’t promise, just do it,” she says.
“So, you’ll give me a chance to make it up to you?” I ask.
She rolls her eyes.
“I’ll need more groveling, but I guess coming here when you should be getting ready for your show tonight is a good start,” she smiles and links her fingers with mine.
I fall deeper, harder, irrevocably.
“Thank God,” I say with an exaggerated sigh.
She laughs, but it’s not my imagination, when her eyes they dart to and linger on my lips.
I’m so tempted, but not yet…I clear my throat and back away a little.
I skim my lips across the top of her head and she leans into me. I press my lips to the sweet curve of her ear and she trembles.
“Remember when I told you your eyes were the color of the sea in the place I loved most in the world? Well, now it’s that sea that’s the color of the place I love most in the world. These eyes are my paradise.”
She stares up at me, her tears dry, her smile as wide and beautiful as rainbow. “I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you…but you’ve got quite a way with words, Carter.”
I laugh, not because what she said was funny, but because she makes me so damn happy. And now, it’s my turn.
I pull the paper I’ve been carrying out of my shirt pocket. “Here are words so beautiful, only nature could have written them,” I say and hand it to her.
Her smile fades. She pulls back and she eyes the paper like it’s a spider.
“What’s that?” Her voice is hard and clipped, when she looks back at me, fear has overwhelmed everything else that was there.
“Our miracle,” I say. And then, I smile.
The fear in her eyes disappears and determination takes its place. She smiles back and takes the paper from me and holds it to her heart.
There’s my girl.
She opens it.
“Oh my God.” Her eyes race across the results.
She covers her mouth with her bandaged hand and looks up at me. Her eyes search mine, hopeful and dazed.
She looks back to the paper. “Not even one marker? What does this mean?” she asks, still reading.
“That …we can be whatever we want.”
Her sea-blue eyes fly up to mine, full of challenge and blazing with joy.
“And what do you want?” she asks.
“Well, first, I’d like to fuck you again,” I growl without any shame.
A slow smile spreads across her lips. “Well, what are you waiting for?”
The Eleventh Commandment
BETH
As soon as the words leave my lips, the jaunty grin on his face disappears. His hands close like vices around my upper arms and he drags me to him. My breath catches in my parched throat at the blaze of raw hunger in his eyes.
“I can’t believe I’m touching you.” His voice is gruff and low, and I can barely hear him over the thundering of my heart and rush of blood in my ears.
I can’t believe this is happening, either.
