“I cannot believe you’re engaged,” said Oliver. “When I left you in London only a week ago, you were set against the idea of ever courting again.” But that was before he had met Rose — the woman who made his heart race and his arms ache to hold her.
A quiet fear overtook him and his smile dropped. “I’m not engaged yet. She hasn’t given me an answer.” And at this point, he wasn’t so sure that he wanted to hear the answer she was going to give him.
“I know. I was there for that little chat, if you’ll remember,” Oliver smirked with too much amusement and then winced as he touched his fingers to his cut lip. “But I don’t think you need to worry. She’ll accept you. A woma
n doesn’t look at a man the way she looks at you and not hope for a future with him.” Was that true? Did Rose look at him with longing? He didn’t even know if the woman loved him or not.
“I’m happy for you, Kenny. And I hope you know that Claire would be, too.” At the mention of Claire, Carver’s whole body stiffened. He wasn’t thinking of Rose anymore.
Would there ever come a time when the sound of Claire’s name would not affect him in that way? He was in love with another woman for, goodness' sake. That should be enough to ease the pain. He had thought, by confessing his feelings to Rose and proposing, his heart would heal. So why didn’t he feel healed yet? He had no doubt that his love for Rose was real and lasting, but his heart still ached for Claire with a fierce, unstoppable determination. And that made him feel like the worst sort of man.
“I know that look,” said Oliver, pulling Carver from his thoughts.
“What look?”
“The, I’m wallowing in what could have been, look.”
Carver smirked. “Really, Oliver. Your sympathy is just too much. You’ll put me to the blush if you keep it up.” But Oliver didn’t laugh like he had anticipated. Oliver just leaned back and eyed Carver beneath creased brows.
Carver couldn’t take it anymore. “What?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
“Well, stop it. You’re looking at me like I’m a drowning puppy.”
“How’s it been being back home?” Carver had wondered how long it would take Oliver to dive into that topic. Sometimes it was deucedly inconvenient having a friend who had grown up with him and knew almost every aspect of his life.
“Obviously, it’s been entertaining,” he tried for a smile.
“Have you been sleeping?”
“Yes, darling. A solid eight hours every night.”
“The circles under your eyes tell me you’re lying.” Oh, now he was a physician, too? Apparently, he was a good one because Carver actually was lying. He had barely slept more than two hours every night. But that wasn’t exactly anything new.
“Are you trying to tell me my beauty is wilting?”
“Would you like to go ten more rounds or will you cut line and tell me how the deuce you’re really doing?”
Carver looked to Oliver at first with a smirk, ready to shoot off another joke. But then his smile faded and his shoulders slumped. He didn’t want to admit that he wasn’t doing well. Especially since in someways, he really was doing better. He was laughing more. He was in love with a beautiful woman. He was throwing himself headfirst into a new life. Wasn’t that what everyone meant by moving on and healing? But always in the back of his mind, was Claire. Her light blue eyes still plagued his dreams and the memories of all they had planned together clawed at his determination to put her out of his mind.
“I’m…fine.” Some days he felt finer than others. When he was with Rose, he felt lighter, happier, like everything was right with the world and all of his pieces were in place. But when he was away from her…the pain would find him again and guilt’s heavy hand pressed on him.
Oliver’s eyebrow raised, but he looked unimpressed. “Really? You don’t look fine right now. You look devilish, and that’s putting it mildly.”
“Is this the sort of flattery you give ladies? I can see why you’re still a bachelor.”
Oliver rolled his eyes and shifted further into his seat. “Well, since you’re clearly not in a mood to answer me honestly, we might as well talk about something else.” Yes. Anything.
“If you insist. By the way I never apologized for stealing your bride out from under your nose. Do you think you’ll recover?”
A smile grew on Oliver’s mouth. Carver knew that he was safe from returning to the previous undesired conversation. “I think we both know it won’t take me long to bounce back from losing out on Kitty—er—Rose’s perfection.” That was the truth. Oliver was forever falling in love with some new lovely female. The only problem was that he usually fell out of love as quick as he fell into it. Enchanted one night, horrified the next. Carver was used to the pattern.
“Olly, how do you manage to find so many perfect women in such a short span of time?” Oliver wasn’t exactly a rake. But the man teetered terribly close to the line.
“It is a blessing, indeed,” said Oliver with mock sincerity. “If only they remained perfect, I might actually be able to shackle my leg to one of them.”
Carver thought of several of Oliver’s latest loves. “What was wrong with the woman you walked with in Hyde Park? If I remember correctly, you spent nearly every morning with her for a week.”