Page 32 of Carter

He says, “And you will be too.”

My early determination is waning. “Let’s not hold our breath,” I mutter.

We pull up to the hotel. I’m suddenly exhausted. John gets out, comes around and opens my door. He gives me his hand, helping me from the car. I give him a shy look. I’m unsure of what to say.

“Goodnight, Sasha,” he says. He gives me a gentle kiss on the cheek. I smell his cologne. It’s the same Carter wears. The scent makes me miss Carter even more.

“Goodnight, John.” I turn. I walk toward the hotel. I hear his engine rev just before the lobby doors shut. I grab two chocolate chip cookies—I’ve earned them—and I head to my room.

When I’m ready for bed, I slip into the covers and fall into a troubled sleep.

It feels like only moments later when the sun is shining in my eyes. I blink them open. I slowly stretch my muscles. Then I realize what today is and a smile bursts across my lips.

He’s taking me back.

I’m going home today.

I jump from the hotel bed, a renewed determination running through me. I take a long shower. Blow-dry my hair and leave it down, cascading over my shoulders. The way Carter loves it most. I opt for my workout skirt and a long sleeve shirt in blush rose. I put on just a dab of mascara and gloss that I’ve found in the bottom of my bag. I pack my things. I throw my bag over my shoulders.

My feet feel light as I glide to the elevator. I hum to myself as I travel down to the lobby. Just one day of work and then I’ll be home. There’s a ding and the doors open. I step out of the elevator.

I stop in my tracks. My heart lurches into my throat. My hand flutters to my opened mouth.

Carter.

He’s dressed in his light blue button-down and jeans. His hair is gelled and combed. He’s wearing flip-flops. He’s not planning on working.

Our eyes lock. He says, “I’ve come to take you home.”

My lips move to form words, but I’m speechless. My heart comes back to my chest, pounding. My bags drop from my shoulders. My arms reach out for him.

He’s across the lobby in a few long strides. I throw my arms around his neck. He wraps around me. He’s holding me. He smells so good. He feels so good. His chin is resting on the top of my head.

“Thank you,” I breathe. I will the tears pricking in my eyes to leave me be. I’ve cried enough.

He holds me. His hands rub my back. He kisses the top of my head.

He pulls away. He takes all of my bags in one of his strong hands. Takes my hand in his other. He looks at me and smiles. “Let’s go, baby girl. I’m ready to take you home.”

I feel an ugly cry brimming up from my gut. I don’t trust myself to speak. I give a nod. I give his big hand a squeeze with mine. He understands. He smiles. Squeezes mine back.

Moments later his driver has my bags in the trunk. Carter releases my hand, holding the door for me. We slide in and we are driving toward the Village.

I sneak a glance at Carter. He catches my eye and gives me a reassuring smile. He holds his opened palm out to me. I place my hand into it. His fingers wrap around. The back of his thumb caresses my skin. He tells me to relax. I take a deep breath and sit back in the seat. I watch out the window as the familiar buildings pass by.

We go through the gates.

We drive down the tree-lined streets of the Village. People who see us wave as we go by. They already know I’m coming home.

We pull up to One Nineteen, Fifth Street.

I sit in my seat in the car and stare at our house, taking it all in.

My wreath is still hanging on the door. At the sight of it, I burst into tears.

Without a word, Carter is there. His arm wraps around my shoulder, letting me cry on his chest. He rubs my back, murmuring, “Shush, baby. You’re home now.”

When I finally pull away and look at him, there are tears in his eyes.