Sadie’s eyebrows pulled together and her mouth thinned. “Well, then I—People are going to keep believing her side of the story.”
“People can think what they want. I have no control over that.”
“Of course you do. You can push back. You can refute her allegations. You can tell your side of the story.”
“My side of the story? How old are we, ten?” Carrick scoffed. “My marriage is over. I never talk about it and I don’t owe anyone a damn explanation.”
Hurt and annoyance flashed in her eyes. “Not even me?”
Especially not her. He wanted—no, he needed—her to believe him, without proof, without thought. He needed her to know him, to make up her own mind, to discard what she’d heard and trust him, dammit.
They were going to be in each other’s lives for a long time and as the mother of his child, she was going to be one of the most important people in his life. He needed her to see him without the filter of other people’s perceptions.
And if she couldn’t, then this road was going to be long, ugly and as bumpy as hell.
“Make up your own mind about me, Sadie,” Carrick told her, exhausted and not a little defeated.
“There are reasons that it’s easy for me to believe her, Carrick,” Sadie quietly stated.
He didn’t care. Her reasons didn’t matter...
He needed her faith.
He needed her to decide, to know, on a fundamental level, he wasn’t the man Tamlyn or Beth made him out to be.
He would never settle for anything less. And he’d never, ever explain.
When the rumors started circling, his family and close friends instinctively closed ranks, their trust in him unshakeable. He’d been grateful and touched and their reaction was now the standard he set for all his relationships.
Carrick rubbed his forehead, his headache pushing against his skull. He hadn’t had a migraine since leaving Tamlyn and it made sense that talking about his ex would bring one on.
As always, taking a hammer to his head sounded like an appropriate solution.
When Carrick’s house was full of people, it felt like a home, not a conglomeration of rooms, most of which he didn’t use. With voices and laughter reigning through the historic Beacon Hill house, Carrick felt like his dad had just stepped out of the room and that his stepmom, Raeni, was in the kitchen, whipping up one of her lethal cocktails.
His nephews were playing with a box of his old LEGO pieces on the Oriental carpet on the far side of the room, and conversation rose and fell. It felt like old times. Carrick watched his nephews for a minute, his heart spluttering at the thought that in a few years, it would be his kid on the carpet playing with cars or blocks or dolls. And he couldn’t wait.
Carrick looked across the room to where Sadie was talking to Levi’s sisters, Jules and Darby, his eyes dropping to her still-flat stomach. He hadn’t seen her since their conversation about his past two days ago. He’d been out of town.
When he heard that Tanna was back in Boston with Levi, he’d made arrangements for this impromptu get-together from New York via Marsha, and he’d called Sadie and suggested she join them. He’d missed her, dammit.
Before responding to his invitation, Sadie, as forthright as ever, immediately addressed their argument.
“Are you still mad because I didn’t tell you about Beth and Tamlyn?”
He wasn’t crazy about the connection, but there was damn all he could do about it. “No.”
“Have you changed your mind about talking to me about her?” Sadie asked.
Talk about Tamlyn? The world had to end first.
“No.”
She’d dropped a quiet “okay,” but hadn’t made a commitment to attending tonight so he’d been surprised, and ridiculously happy, to see her walk into his house earlier that evening. Then she’d removed her coat to reveal her super-short, A-line black cocktail dress, embellished with pearls and the black lace sleeves ending three quarters down her slim arms.
Then he’d fought the urge to carry her up to his bedroom.
It was official: he couldn’t resist her...dammit.