Page 59 of Maid of Dishonor

I just shrug, looking apologetically at him. I don’t want Maya to feel like it’s her fault I fainted since she picked the dress or something.

“So that might be another bad sign, too,” Carter says, shuffling away from me.

“Is she okay?” Maya says.

“She seems just fine to me,” Carter mutters, and I smirk.

“Well, maybe go ahead and do the cake tasting since we already paid for the appointment, but then after that, let’s wait to plan anything else,” she says slowly.

“Sounds like a plan,” I say. “We’ll let you know how it goes.”

“All right. Bye,” Maya says.

We hang up, looking at each other.

“Not cool with my foot, but the rest of this is amazing,” Carter says, looking like he can’t believe his luck. “Amazing. She hasn’t even read the horoscope yet, and she’s already reconsidering. This is great!”

“But…also not great that she threw up on a banker’s desk,” I say slowly to him.

“Yeah, you know what I mean,” he says, waving my words away. “Obviously that sucks, and I feel bad for her that it happened. Still, though, if it pulls her away from Chet…”

“Chad,” I say.

“Of course, my bad,” he says with a grin. That little dimple comes out to play, and I both love it and hate it. Love it because I want to press a kiss to that dimple, hate it because I can’t.

I sigh, and we resume our trek back to the parking lot. “Well, once she sees the horoscope, maybe she’ll jump off the marriage train altogether.”

Carter sighs too. “I hope so.” He pauses, looking over at me once we’ve reached our cars. “See you Monday?”

Nodding, I say, “We have to be at the bakery at four.”

He just waves, and when he’s back in his car, I’m alone again—alone to remember how he called me “baby” when he thought I was still unconscious.

Sixteen

Carter

I spendmost of Sunday trying not to think of the panic I felt when Sam passed out from wearing that stupid dress. I didn’t even really get a good overall look at her in it before she fell directly into my arms.

Not that there wasn’t anything to see—because there definitely was. The dress was tiny. But I’m not in the habit of checking out unconscious women, even when they’re sprawled in my lap.

At least I was able to lower her to the ground, but still. No man wants to experience that with the woman he—

Crap. I wince as my mind halts. I almost thought it. I almost used the “L” word. I can’t use it, not even in my mind. I have feelings for Sam, fine. All right. I can admit that. But notlove.Infatuation, sure. Attraction, yes. But that’s it.

That has to be it.

This thought somehow leaves me feeling unusually lonely. Normally I don’t mind living on my own. I prefer it, actually; I’m pretty laid back with roommates, but I’d still rather have the space to myself. More people means more drama, and I’m not interested in that. I don’t have the patience for it.

Today, though, sitting here on the couch and starting dinner for one, I just feel alone. I miss Sam.

Which is insane. I saw her yesterday.Yesterday. We’ve been texting today. I’m going to see her tomorrow. But still…I miss her.

She’d be an awesome roommate. I mean, I would find her hair ties all over the place, and she would introduce a ton of unnecessary pillows and blankets to the couch. But…living with her would be amazing.

And before I can think better of it, I’m grabbing my phone and hitting the first speed dial button.

“Hey,” Sam says when she picks up. “Hey, listen to this: Did you know that when you fly, you lose like 30 percent of your taste bud sensitivity?”

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