Page 36 of Maid of Dishonor

He rolls his eyes. “Because they’re the kind you leave in.”

“For, like, a month!” I say. We’ve had this conversation a million times, and yet I can’t resist the chance that maybe this time he’ll see sense.

It’s not looking promising, though, because he just shakes his head. “Mine do just fine for longer than that.”

“Do they, though?” I say, narrowing my eyes. “Do they really? We’re here buying youeyedrops,” I say emphatically. “Becauseyour eyes hurt.”

Carter chooses to ignore this, the coward. Instead he slows to a stop before bending over and inspecting the different brands of eye drops. He finds what he’s looking for, drops the little box into the cart, and then resumes his walking.

“All I’m saying is that you probably wouldn’t need so many eyedrops if you would take your contacts out more frequently. Like even on the weekends or something.”

He looks over at me, one brow raised, a grin now tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’re so smug up there on your high horse, aren’t you? Just because you have perfect vision—”

“Hey, the Good Lord knew what He was doing when He made this body,” I say with mock haughtiness, gesturing down the length of my form.

“I’m well aware,” Carter mutters under his breath.

His words are so low that he probably didn’t mean for me to hear them, but I do. My mind stutters to a halt, and I stop walking. “What did you say?” I say, my insides beginning to jitter. Did he really just say what I think he said?

He looks over at me, his brows shooting up when he realizes I’m not next to him anymore. “What?”

“You said something,” I say, my eyes on him. “Under your breath. You said something.”

He frowns, shaking his head slowly. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes you did!” I say. “You said—”

But I break off, and Carter raises one brow at me.

“What did I say?” he says, and there’s a look of challenge in his eyes, like he’s daring me to go on.

He has me, and he knows it. I’m not going to repeat what I heard, because if I’m wrong, I’ll be utterly humiliated. If I repeat what I heard and Iamcorrect, thenhe’llprobably be humiliated.

I know Carter, though. The odds are in favor of me having misheard. So after a few seconds, I drop it.

“Nothing,” I finally say. “Must have misheard.”

He nods, but I don’t miss the way his shoulders relax a fraction of an inch. I think…I think he might have just complimented me.

It’s not that he doesn’t ever compliment me, because he does. He’ll tell me I look nice when I dress up—stuff like that. But he always says those things forme. I get the sense that he didn’t mean for me to hear whatever he just said.

And that feels…different.

Carter clears his throat, tugging me out of my thoughts and nodding toward our cart. “Is this everything we need?”

“I think so,” I say. “Pineapple, eyedrops—”

But just as I’m about to finish speaking—just as we’re about to leave behind this awkward situation—my list is interrupted by a low, husky, female voice. One I sincerely hoped I’d never hear again.

“I guess I’m not surprised to see you two together.”

I grit my teeth as I turn toward the voice. And though Carter appears calm, I can see the muscles in his jaw flexing as he does the same.

“Mariah!” I say, smiling, because what else am I supposed to do?

Carter’s maybe-sea-monster ex-girlfriend stands at the end of the aisle, her arms folded over her chest, her impressive cleavage pushed to gravity-defying heights. I mentally roll my eyes at Carter for being taken in by all that.

“Hi,” she says, barely sparing me a look before her eyes dart back to Carter. “I always figured this”—she waves one perfectly manicured hand back and forth between Carter and me—“would end up happening. You never could make the time for me. It’s what made you a terrible boyfriend.”

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