He wouldn’t, though. He wouldn’t. It’s an uncomfortable coincidence, that’s all.
Still, I can’t help feeling responsible.
When church lets out, I head to work. It’s a slow night, being a Sunday, but that gives me a chance to check up on Carter. I probably shouldn’t persist in cyber stalking him now that we’re over and I’m the one insisting we are never getting back together, but I tell myself I’m looking for any sign of incriminating evidence. I don’t actually expect to find anything, but my heart stalls when the most recent update reads, “Oops. I broke it.”
My heart thuds and my gaze jumps to the accompanying picture. It’s a picture of a pink Barbie doll car in Chloe’s playroom. The door is crooked and falling off, and Chloe has a hand propped on her hip, mean-mugging the hell out of the camera.
My jaw drops open and I close the app, pulling up my messages so I can yell at him. I don’t know if I want to yell at him for breaking Chloe’s toy first, or for Luke.
“You are a psycho!”
I push send before I can overthink it. He must have his phone close by, because he’s texting me back a few seconds later. “Me? No. You must have the wrong number.”
“Did you break Chloe’s car?” I demand.
“Yeah, but I bought her a new, better car. It’s all good now.” He sends an accompanying photo of Chloe grinning with her stylish new Barbie car to prove it.
“And Luke? Are you buying him a new car?” I ask, my hands shaking with anger.
“Why would I buy Luke a new car?” he returns.
“This is NOT the way to get me back,” I tell him.
“You sure?” he replies.
I’m too angry to talk to him and a customer is approaching the counter anyway, so I put the phone away. I ring that person out as quickly and politely as I can, but I can’t stop thinking about Carter. I pull my phone out as soon as the customer walks away and read Carter’s message.
“Maybe Luke shouldn’t touch other people’s toys, then they wouldn’t touch his.”
My eyes all but bulge out of my head. I send back in all caps, “Luke never touched me! He is a friend, nothing more. But you’re less than that, so stop terrorizing him and leave me alone.”
“You wound me, princess.”
“I wish,” I shoot back. “I wish I could wound you, Carter.”
Chapter 46
Vengeance normally is not my thing, but after tossing and turning all night long, wracked with guilt, I have the perfectly crafted “fuck you” to Carter by the time I get to school on Monday.
I buzz through all my morning classes, waiting for the moment when I’ll be able to irritate Carter. I’ve gone back and forth, afraid that giving him a response will cause the behavior to worsen, but at the end of the day, I think I can control the fire. I have zero doubt that I will piss Carter off, but if he tries to take it out on Luke again, I will stand up to him. I will redirect his wrath to me and deal with his temper myself—I am the one it should be directed at anyway. I’m the idiot who made up a fake boyfriend on impulse to begin with, I just never expected Carter to believe it so vehemently.
When history rolls around, the sight of Carter gets me jittery, ramps up my pulse. It’s strange how the sight of him excites all my senses even now, when he’s being so awful I want to punch him in the face.
Friday night after he made love to me, we cuddled on the couch for a little while. Afterward, he took $200 out of his wallet and gave it to me for the babysitting. I stared at the excess of cash for a moment, wondering if I should change my career plans and become a full-time babysitter, then his ulterior motive presented itself. He told me now that I have some extra cash I didn’t plan on having, I could buy myself that homecoming dress and be his date, after all.
How convenient.
It was sneaky and Carter-like enough that it made me smile. As much as I hate the idea of spending all that money on a dress I will wear one time to a dance I don’t even want to go to, I couldn’t bring myself to tell him no.
Now I can.
I expect him to linger and hassle me on our way out of class, but Carter only shoots me a wink as he walks past and heads out by himself.
The dumb part of me is disappointed by his lack of attention, but the overwhelming majority of me is relieved. It’s harder to try to hurt his feelings when I’m exposed to him at all. He has a way of melting away my defenses, no matter how angry I am at him, no matter how justified that anger is.