43. Lara

Chapter 43

Lara

“ H and on my heart, those were the best potatoes I think I’ve ever eaten,” Carter says with far too much enthusiasm.?

I awkwardly swivel my upper body in his direction, elbows deep in the sink full of dishes from tonight's dinner. He’s giving me that goofy smile where his one dimple pops and the golden flecks within his green irises reflect off the kitchen light. I have to turn away after a few seconds, finding it a little hard to breathe.

“I don’t understand how you can say that so sincerely; they’re just potatoes with a bit of seasoning.”

“‘ Just potatoes’ she says,” he mutters with an almost imperceptible shake of his bowed head, I think more to himself than anything. He finishes off with a tut. “Are you sure I can’t help you with something? As much as I’m enjoying the view of your arse in those jeans, I’d much rather be put to work than stand here watching you do it all.”

The second Carter had gone to collect our plates after dinner, I stopped him. It’s one thing for him to clear up after me at his house but in my own? Absolutely not. That’s not his job. Plus, I’d already cooked us a late dinner after having worked up a serious appetite in my bedroom—I think we’ve reached our quota of couple-y business for one Saturday night. Thankfully the girls are out with some friends from school tonight, so we’re awarded some privacy.

Over dinner, Carter told me all about Paris. I’m still yet to visit myself, but the way he described it so vividly made it feel as though I was right there with him in the memories—a place I had no right to be.

“I’m sure; I’m done.” The water drains from the sink with an awful sucking noise as I dry my hands and turn to face Carter with a smile. “Could you refill our glasses? I’ll be right back.”

“With pleasure.” The way he prolongs the vowels in his glorious accent sends a fresh wave of heat right through me. Not to mention the way his lip quirks at the corner, tempting me the way a siren’s voice would a lonely fisherman in the deep sea.

I turn on my heel and race down the hallway at breakneck speed. I had two glasses of wine over dinner with no bathroom break, and it wouldn’t be wise to jump a man with a full bladder.?

After the fastest pee of my life, and more than ready for round two, I return to the kitchen to find Carter muttering to himself, wine glasses in hand. It gives me a rare glimpse into Carter beneath the suit. Those moments might not come around often, but they strike me in the chest every time. He may be painfully good-looking, with forearm veins for days and an arse that won’t quit, but he’s also human, just like me. Although they manifest in different ways and for different reasons, we’ve both had feelings of uncertainty, self-doubt, inadequacy, and apprehension.

Leaning against the doorframe, I clear my throat. “You good?”?

“Shit Lara, you can’t sneak up on a man like that. Especially when he’s holding wine.” He lets out a breath.?

I can’t help but smirk, entirely amused by him.

“Wow, you’re jumpy. Are you alright?” Strolling toward him, I reach for my glass still clutched in his grasp. The movement, or my proximity, seems to shake him from the strange stupor. He shakes his head faintly once before wandering past me and into the lounge room. Carter takes a seat, and I plant myself beside him.

His gaze burns into the side of my cheek as I take a sip. “Come to dinner with me next Friday.”

The last word catches me off guard, causing me to almost choke on the mouthful of wine. Friday is the unofficial-official Lawrence Family Dinner Night. Every Friday, the Lawrence siblings descend upon their childhood home for a family dinner. I learnt about the unspoken tradition not long after I moved here, but Teddy and Carter were simply nameless older brothers then.?

“Friday?”

“Yes, Friday. As in the day between Thursday and Saturday.”

If he wasn’t so pretty, I’d want to punch him right now. I turn to face him, feeling the growing frown mar my forehead. “Is Lawrence Family Dinner cancelled?”

Carter looks at me blankly. “What?”?

“What?” I parrot back to him, aware I probably sound as though somewhere a village is missing their idiot. I think he’s caused something to short-circuit in my brain.

“No, I’d like you to accompany me. In fact, I’d love for you to accompany me if you’re free.”

“To your family dinner?”

“Are you hard of hearing all of a sudden?” There’s a teasing tone to his words, yet the insult is all but lost on me. I’m too consumed by rage and bewilderment. Sure, half an hour from now there’s every chance I’ll realise the rage is possibly a bit of an overreaction, but right now, it feels justified.?

“Are you losing your mind? Why would you invite me to your family dinner?” Blood is pumping through my veins at a rapid rate, the sound almost deafening. I stand quickly, feeling like there’s not enough air on the couch for the both of us. Carter’s aftershave hangs between us, a commanding scent threatening my willpower and overloading my senses.

Carter remains seated, looking up at me curiously. If there’s one thing men have, it’s the audacity . Who does he think he is, looking at me like I’m the crazy one when it’s him who’s inviting his sex friend to family dinner? What the fuck is that about?

“Because I thought it was about time you met the rest of my family, and for them to know the real you, rather than the nonsense Emmy and Dad have no doubt told them.”

“Carter, are you hearing yourself? Have you even thought this through? What sort of crazy person invites a friend with benefits—who also happens to work for them, need I remind you—to something like that? Why not take one of the many women you’ve dated? There are always pictures splashed around of you and some bombshell woman. I’m sure any of them would jump at the chance to have dinner with a family like yours.”

I’m rambling a lot , but there’s little I can do to stop. If I asked a Magic 8 Ball, never in a million years would it have predicted this response, and that’s saying something because those things manage to predict almost anything.?

“Lara,” Carter murmurs as he rises from the couch, standing almost a full head taller than me. Despite my heartstrings being pulled taut at the sound of my name falling from his lips, I can’t meet his gaze. Instead, I choose to keep my eyes trained on the beige-flecked carpet beneath us. His arms move slowly toward my sides, taking hold of my hands. My heart skips a beat at the connection. It doesn’t matter that he’s touched me countless times, the reaction is always the same.?

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I want no part of it,”?I say, still unable to meet his gaze.

Carter gives my hands a small squeeze before he responds. “Nothing is a game to me where you’re concerned.”

The words are unexpected, drenched in a vulnerability I haven’t heard from Carter before. He’s usually so sure of himself—like annoyingly sure—so this unshielded display catches me off guard. But it does nothing in the way of making me look up at him. Call me cowardly, but I can’t bring myself to see the softness written across his features. It’s overwhelming and confusing and too much for my overthinking brain to process right now. It’s also completely at odds with the Carter Lawrence portrayed in the papers, something akin to whiplash.?

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you feel nothing for me.”

My gaze snaps up from our interlocked fingers to meet his eyes. Those emerald pools hold so much emotion. There’s a fire somewhere within them, smouldering away until the timing is right. I let out a sigh, trying to find the words to make him understand.

“That’s irrelevant. This isn’t about my feelings; it’s about you trying to make this into something it isn’t, and for the life of me, I can’t understand why.” I try to pull my hands from his, the contact feeling too intimate. My attempt is futile, but Carter relinquishes his grip in response, and my arms fall limply to my sides.?

“Stop deflecting, Lara.” His tone is both authoritative and soft as he holds my gaze. “Tell me you feel nothing for me.”

It’s a command and a plea, and I have no idea how to respond.?

There’s a dull ache in my chest as I stare into the deep green of his eyes, wishing he could understand my inner turmoil. There’s so much I feel for him, but what does that matter when it’s going to end? There are a million reasons for this—whatever this is—not to work out: I’m from half a world away, he’s got a reputation preceding him, I have no idea what I’m doing with my life, his whole future is laid out ahead of him. And it’s not like they’re small reasons with quick fixes; it’s never that simple.

Some things aren’t meant to work.

Despite this, I can’t help the single tiny butterfly flapping to life deep within me at the thought of this working.

“Carter . . .” I say softly, begging for him to understand. My eyes drift across his body, a body I’ve come to know as well as my own, as I take in every inch of him.

I can practically feel the scratch of stubble lining his sharp jaw, regularly making his presence known on the skin of my inner thighs. His throat works as my eyes coast over it, and I wonder what he’s thinking right now. My knees weaken when I look at his broad shoulders, memories of my legs thrown over them threatening to erase all rational thought.

Before I can continue the agonising visual tour of his body, Carter cradles my chin, tilting it up with his forefinger and thumb until my gaze is gently pulled to meet his. His hand flattens against my cheek as he looks at me, heat radiating right beneath the surface where his skin meets mine. Instinctively, I raise my own hand up to meet his, my palm fitting perfectly over the back of his hand. I lean into his touch, letting out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

Carter holds my gaze, and my chest squeezes at his expression; it’s a painful combination of admiration, hurt, and what I can only describe as adoration.

“Lara.” He says it as if it’s a promise. “Should you feel nothing for me, tell me now and I’ll leave.”?

“You don’t get it, Carter, I can’t do this.” I drop my hand from where it connects with his, expecting him to do the same. Rather than breaking contact altogether, Carter tenderly wraps his hands around my elbows, softly tugging me toward him.?

“Lara, please.” The pleading in his eyes only worsens the squeezing in my chest. “Help me understand.”?

I open my mouth to say something, anything, but I realise I don’t know where to begin. My jaw hangs open for a moment, my brain not immediately processing the fact there are no words coming out.?

“It can’t be real.” My voice cracks on the last word, and a tear escapes through my lashes as I attempt to blink back the imminent onslaught.

The rings on my middle finger feel heavier than ever.

The moment Carter notices the tear, his face crumples. “What can’t be real?”

Steadying myself, I take a deep breath. There was always the possibility this conversation would happen, but I’m still unprepared. My knees wobble at the thought.

“It can’t be real,” I repeat, closing my eyes and summoning every ounce of courage I can, “because if it’s real, I can be broken. I don’t want to break Carter. I refuse to.”

I open my eyes once more, noticing the furrowing of Carter’s brows through a tear-blurred vision.?

“Talk to me. Please .” His voice is so soft it threatens to pry open the restraint I have on my tears. “I can see this isn’t easy for you, but please talk to me. I want to understand.”?

“Can we sit?”?

Immediately, Carter lets go of my arms, nodding, and takes a seat once more.?

I feel like I need more time to prepare for this conversation. Or more alcohol. Perhaps both? Unfortunately, there’s a severe lack of both, so a deep breath will have to do.

I join Carter, tucking my legs up beneath me and resting my shoulder against the back of the couch.

“There’s a reason I don’t say much about my dad.” I twist the rings around, finding comfort in the familiar feel of them. “My parents had been married for ten years when he decided we weren’t enough for him anymore; my mother wasn’t enough. Thirteen years together, ten years of marriage, two children, and all it took was one decision made by my father to ruin it all.”

I’ve given up fighting the tears; it was always going to be a losing battle. Concentrating on my fingers rather than Carter’s steady force in front of me, I continue.?

“People say love conquers all, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Love destroys. It destroyed my mother the day my dad went home with someone else. I refuse to let it destroy me.”

My gaze remains trained on my fingers fidgeting in my lap. Locks of hair cascade around me as though someone’s drawn the curtains over my face.?

“You can’t spend your entire life keeping everyone at arm's length, love.”

My heart skips a beat as Carter reaches out to tuck one of the stray strands of hair behind my ear. His fingers draw from the shell of my ear to the underside of my jaw, his touch lingering. In the blink of an eye, my heartbeat is as steady as ever. As if his touch grounds me.

“You push people away, telling yourself it means nothing, and I’d agree typically it would mean nothing. But I know you know this is different. We are different.”

I want to argue, to tell him he’s wrong, but I’m losing the fight I had in me before. His words terrify me, but somehow they’re also clarifying. Everything he’s saying is true, as though nothing has ever made more sense than the two of us, together.?

“This was never meant to be more than a casual thing,” I continue with a sniff. “I didn’t want anything serious, but you managed to take down my walls and let yourself in without me even noticing.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. This was never going to be just a casual thing, Lara. I knew from the moment I met you, when I was simultaneously mesmerised and mortified, that we were brought together for a reason.”

I let out a wet laugh as more tears stream down my face.?

“I know you’re scared. Fuck, so am I. But if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that there’s nothing we can’t face side by side.”

This man has come to know me better than I ever imagined he would. The world certainly works in mysterious ways.?

“You’re somehow everything I never wanted, and yet the man I dreamed of one day meeting. I’m a contradiction within myself; I spent so many years believing I needed to settle down, marry, maybe have a few children, and everything would be right, yet I’ve avoided anything that felt remotely serious.”

“That’s why you threw a wall up that night at my house.”

“What?”

“The first night you came over, when I invited you for dinner. I’d taken one step toward my bedroom, you pulled back, and I saw the shutters go down behind your eyes. If it weren’t for the fact you were on your knees and begging not a moment later, I would’ve brought it up then.”

“I’ve done a lot of work in therapy over the years to build fewer walls, but you caught me off guard that day. The look in your eyes seemed so loaded, and it scared me.”

Carter wraps his arms around me, pulling my body against his, and as he rubs small circles on my back, warmth and comfort settle over me, somehow almost bone deep.?

Tears prick my eyes, but they’re different this time; tears of contentment. I’ve never really understood the saying about how a person could feel like home, but I think I’m beginning to.?

“I promise you there’s nothing to be afraid of, love. If anything, I should be the one who’s scared. Something tells me I wouldn’t survive heartbreak at your hand.”

“And what makes you think I have the power to cause you heartbreak?”

“There’s yet to be a day since we first met where I haven’t thought about you. I don’t recall a time where I’ve felt this comfortable, to the point I can’t imagine not knowing you, now that I do.”

The sincerity in his voice is startling.?

God, some of the things this man says make him seem as though he were written by a woman. Surely no one is this smooth without being cringeworthy?

Oh, but of course, someone with a lot of practice could be. Someone like the Oxford Street Playboy.

The little voice in the back of my mind rears its ugly head, determined to throw me off kilter just as my guard is coming down. Unfortunately for Carter, it succeeds.?

“As wonderful as everything you’re saying is, it’s also incredibly at odds with the image you seem to portray in the media. So tell me, which one is the real Carter?”