Crushed (Torn #7)(5)
“She looks happy … I suppose that’s all we could ever ask for.”
Carter seemed stuck in his own reverie for a while. When he finally spoke, however, there was a catch to his voice. “She does, but no matter how you paint it, it doesn’t change the fact that though I’m happy deep down I’m still hurting.” He made a dry laugh, like it was funny that he was still reeling from the eviscerating pain Emma had inflicted on him. “It f*uking does…” He made another dry laugh. “Who would’ve thought, you know? I went through women left and right, never once thinking one day I’d be the one in this position. Sorry… That was insensitive of me to say.” He cleared his throat, immediately remembering I was in the same position as him.
“No, no. Don’t apologize,” I vehemently insisted. “You have every right to voice your emotions.” To be honest, I liked the fact that he was opening up. It gave me a glimpse of the man behind the name and popularity that seemed to shadow him all his life. This … This was genuine.
And, given that we were speaking about such deep subjects, I couldn’t help delving into what my heart had been dying to know.
“How is he?” I asked in a small voice, hoping he could hear me and, at the same time, not hear me just in case he thought it was inappropriate, given the situation.
Surprisingly, he didn’t seem to mind. There was no look of shock or anything similar on his face. “Not good, as you can imagine.”
His answer was expected, but it did nothing to ebb my worry.
“Do you think he’ll be okay?” Of all the people who knew Brody, Carter was the right man to ask.
“Only time will tell.” He directed a meaningful look at me before adding, “He cares about you—he does—but he’s just too wrapped up with the past to see the present or the future.”
“Are you speaking for yourself or for him?”
“Him,” he responded with a strained voice. “Maybe both.” He snickered, admitting to his own uncertainty.
I was sure he wasn’t accustomed to showing people a glimpse of his vulnerable side, but I wasn’t just anyone. Besides, of all people, it wasn’t my place to judge.
“Do you think you’ll ever be over it?”
He remained pensive.
“If she asked you back now, would you be with her?”
“In a heartbeat,” he responded without having to pause. He meant it with every fiber of him, too.
“That’s—wow.” Beyond wow, actually. After all the hurt unfurled, he still had a lot more in him to continue loving Emma with such abandon. I was left speechless, really.
He snorted. “Yep. I’m all f*uked up, and don’t I know it.”
“No, buddy, we’re f*uked.”
“Weddings … God, how I hate them.”
Seriously. “I second that.”
For the first time since this trip, he gave me his fun-loving, usual Carter Mason smile, one without the strain of his heartache. “Hold on,” he said then quickly disappeared before returning in a span of minutes with two bottles of champagne in hand. “Let’s pop them together,” he said enthusiastically as he handed me a vintage and a butter knife.
I frowned at the utensil before I took it reluctantly, unsure what to do.
“Umm, I’ve never done this before.” It was better to voice it now instead of looking like a total idiot if I accidently splattered all of its contents on my beautiful dress or, better yet, all over him.
He threw me an amused look. “Whatever you do, don’t ever shake it, yeah?”
“Uh-huh. And then what?”
He took a moment before finally conceding that I wouldn’t be the best candidate to open a bottle of champagne, so he took it upon himself to open one at a time. Once he passed the first one off to me, he then lifted the bottle right above us, seeming silly.
“Here’s to us. May we find our true path in life.”
“Jesus, can you sound any more depressing, Carter?”
“f*uk… Okay, I’ll try again.” He cleared his throat. “Let’s roll with the punches and swim with the tides. Whatever happens, let’s hope we won’t be set aside.”
Ha. How fitting.
“I didn’t know you had a sense of humor.”
“It’s a golden secret of mine.” He made a hearty laugh, looking too hot for his own good. “Chicks dig the brooding type. Cracking jokes doesn’t automatically attract the opposite sex.”
“I beg to differ.”
Not one to argue, he simply said, “So, what’s been going on with you?”
Like there was anything really new with me. In case he didn’t notice, I was the least exciting one out of the bunch.
“Not much. Same old, same old. And you? I heard about the perfume incident.”
His demeanor darkened, not towards me, but back to his thoughts. The pain reemerged in his dark eyes.
“Seems like everyone did apparently.”
“What was that all about?” My question came out lightly, but there was a force behind it. I wanted to pick his brain and see if he was still stuck there, in that dingy, dark hole. I wasn’t one to shy away from a conflicting subject since I’d had my fair share of ugliness.