Carter
I lasted less than an hour with Jody. After making up a lame-ass excuse halfway through dinner, I hurried back to the house.
As soon as I open the door and step inside, I realize even an hour was probably too long.
Stupid.
"Carter, you're back," Julia yells across the room, a happy smile on her face.
At least this one's real, not like the fake one she gave me before I left. I knew she was putting on a show for me, and I let her. I thought she might need some alone time, but I should have listened to my gut and stayed with her.
Shit.
"Why are you standing there? Come join me. Now the party can really start." She still hollers, most of her words a slurry mess.
A quick scan of the coffee table in front of her confirms my suspicions that Julia was busy while I was gone. Not only has she found every imaginable sugar source that could possibly be in this house, but she also found the wine stash. Looks like she almost made it through a whole bottle.
Despite the situation, I have to laugh, making her smile even wider.
"What are you doing, Jules?" I walk over to the couch and sit next to her.
I try to take away the sizeable wine glass in her hand, but it doesn't go unnoticed, and she snags it right back, giving my hand a soft slap.
"Get your own glass, Carter." She sticks out her tongue, and I roll my eyes. She's so damn cute like this.
Most of our time growing up, the three of us—Ollie, Jules, and I—were a tight-knit group, which made it easy to keep watch over her alcohol consumption at parties in her teenage years.
I guess I have a drunken Julia for tonight, which is okay since she's usually a happy drunk. A bit silly sometimes and too impulsive but in a good mood.
"Have you talked to your brother?" I hope the change of subject might sober her up some, or at least make her put down the glass.
She nods and her whole body moves with the simple gesture. Wine sloshes dangerously close to the edge of the glass, but of course, Miss Tipsy doesn't notice. She might make an even bigger mess by dumping the whole glass on herself.
"Yup. He told me all about his awesome girlfriend and their last-minute trip. Apparently, he was going to call me tomorrow to update me on everything. I explained my sudden homeless situation to him and that I'd be staying here for a while. I think he said something about calling you soon about it too. Not sure what you have to do with any of it, but yeah." She finally takes a breath, but her mouth opens again a second later. "So how was your date?"
I'm still stuck on the part where Ollie is about to call me to talk about his sister staying here. It will undoubtedly be all about taking good care of his sister and making sure her stupid ex doesn't come anywhere near her while also keeping my hands off her. It's been a while since we've had that conversation.
Ollie used to give the keep-your-hands-off-my-sister speech all the time to our friends. I never told him, but so did I, imitating his big-brother persona. In hindsight, I wonder if there was more to it than I thought back then.
Not that I really know why he feels the need to remind me of that every so often.
"Carter, you keep zoning out." Julia punches me in the arm, successfully spilling half her wine on both of us in the process. "Oops. Sorry," she mutters to herself while putting the glass on the table.
Finally.
Nope. I take that back. Looks like she put it down so she can take off her wet shirt.
Oh, for the love of . . .
That leaves her in a thin tank top and nothing else.
Nothing, as in no bra.
Shit. Where the hell is her bra? And when have I ever wondered that about a girl?
Before I stare at her boobs again like a moron, I quickly get up to walk to my room. "Let me get new shirts." After switching my own shirt, I go back to the living room with an extra T-shirt for my new roommate.
My roommate. How things have changed in the matter of a few hours.
My childhood-bestie-turned-total-hottie—drunk off her ass, apparently not caring that I can see the outline of her hardened nipples—is now my new roommate, in her brother's place, who also happens to be my best friend and business partner. That about sums it up.
Crap.
I want to turn around so I can shove my fist in my mouth and bite on it to relieve some tension, but I hand her the shirt instead.
Of course, she shakes her head at my outstretched hand.
"I'm fine. I'm already wearing a shirt, see." She pulls the top away from her body, exposing even more skin in the process.
Somebody, please save me.
"Jules, that's barely a shirt." I give her a pointed look, hoping to convey a whole lot of things I don't want to say out loud. She does not need to know that I think she's hot as hell, even while sloppy drunk and sad. Nope.
We have a silent staring contest, and just when I'm about to say something, her expression turns grim and she snatches the T-shirt out of my hand, roughly pulling it over her head. "Right. Too much skin. Especially this body." She points to herself with disdain. "Nothing like the girls I've seen you with."
What the hell?
Before I can react, she grabs the wine glass and chugs down the content in one big gulp.
Why do I feel like I just did something wrong?
I sit back down and rub the back of my neck while Jules silently finishes the rest of the wine bottle before focusing her attention on the goodies on the table. I'm not sure where she found all that food, but it looks like half the candy aisle puked all over the coffee table.
Drawing in a breath and releasing it, I look at her out of the corner of my eye, wondering if she's still mad. "So, what are we watching?"
She shrugs one shoulder. "Not sure. Looks like some reality show."
"Ah." I look at the TV, the muted TV. "You don't like listening to it, though?"
I look at her when I feel her gaze on me, or more so her glare.
One thing's for sure: she's got that down pat. It's mean, and my balls might have just shriveled a little.
Retreat, Carter. Retreat. We're in the middle of a damn minefield.
After a few more minutes of staring at the silent TV—watching a couple fight at the grocery store—I turn to the side when I hear quiet sniffles.
"Oh, Jules." I sigh. "Please don't cry."
"Why did he say those awful things, Carter?" Her voice breaks, and my chest aches for her.
Her stare is distant, tear after tear spilling over the rim of her lower eyelids. It's probably the saddest I've ever seen her, and it makes me want to hunt down Nate right now.
"Because he's a fucking moron, that's why." I shake my head in disgust and open my arms. "Come here."
Julia leaps into them, and I cradle her on my lap, slowly smoothing my hand over her hair and down her back until the loud sobs finally subside. I absolutely loathe seeing her like this.
I wish I could take away her pain. Julia is one of the sweetest, funniest girls I know, and she shouldn't believe the lies that asswipe said to her. How does she not know that?
We stay like this for a long time, and I know I'm probably enjoying her nearness more than I should. Oliver would kill me if he found us like this.
"It's going to be okay." I've repeated the same words so many times, they're almost like a mantra. "He doesn't deserve you, never did and never will."
Her fingers brush over her face, probably trying to wipe away the remnants of her little meltdown. Somehow, I expect her to move away, but instead, she snuggles closer into my chest, pulling her knees up to her body, forming a little ball.
Maybe I should be the one pulling away, but I can't bring myself to do so. A few minutes later, her breathing steadies.
It's as though the only place she feels safe is in my arms, and I'm sitting here smiling like an idiot.
Clearly, there's something wrong with me.
I sigh, keeping my voice down. "Oh, Jules."
When I stand up with her in my arms, careful not to jostle her too much, I'm reminded of when I was ten. She was eight and fell out of a tree, and since there was no one else around that day, I had to carry her back to the house. Back then, to my scrawny little self, it felt like she weighed a million pounds. Now, she feels light and tiny in my arms, definitely not like a burden. It's like she belongs there, and I like that.
I walk to her room she's already managed to make a mess of and gently put her down on the bed. "Things will be better in the morning."
After covering her with the blanket, I look at her for a few moments. Just as I'm about to turn and leave, she grabs my arm and pulls on it.
"Please don't leave me alone, Freddy."
My body freezes instantly at her pleading words. She hasn't called me that in a very long time. She gave me the silly nickname forever ago when we had our little Scooby Doo obsession. It was our thing since Oliver refused to be named after the characters.
Hearing the name leave her lips does weird things to my stomach.
Maybe I ate something wrong earlier.
"Don't worry, Daphne. I'm right here." I'm not even sure she can hear my whispered reply, but I don't care. I climb into bed and lie down beside her.
After a minute, her breathing evens out again, her hand still holding my arm tightly.
Maybe I should leave. If I was worried about Oliver seeing her on my lap, this would be way, way worse.
Despite that, I relax next to her and close my eyes, because, quite frankly, this feels incredibly right.
*****
Anyone else so in love with Carter? That man. If you read the WP version before, I'm telling you right now that he's gotten so much better. He's like Carter 2.0 now. Sexier, more swoon-worthy, and just all around my number one. *sigh*
Like I mentioned before, The Husband Checklist is now available everywhere on Amazon and FREE to read in Kindle Unlimited (links are on my profile and wall too). I hope you'll check out this new version and will love it as much as I do. Thanks from the bottom of my heart for all the love and support you've shown me and this story. It means the world to me. ❤❤❤❤❤❤
Have a wonderful day, loves. ❤❤