Page 70 of Maid of Dishonor

“I’m sorry, guys,” she says distractedly. “I think I’d actually like to take a nap.”

I nod. “Yeah, of course,” I say, and I’m glad for it; I’m not crying anymore, but I’m still not feeling so top notch myself. Then, as I’m hit with another wave of sympathy for her, I add, “I’m so sorry you’re having to deal with all this, Maya.”

“Thanks,” she says with a small shrug. She hesitates, and for a second I think she’s going to say more, but she seems to decide against it.

“We’ll let you rest,” I say, reaching for Carter—it’s probably best if we’re not around when Maya finds the tarot cards we planted. Carter stands up and heads for the door, telling Maya to let him know if she needs anything, and then we head out.

Carter is chatty on the way home, mostly pointing out little signs that Maya might be considering canceling the wedding. My mind is only half paying attention to the conversation, though; the rest of me is coming to a very painful realization.

I might need some time away from Carter.

I love him. I want him. And that’s not good. Not when he says he doesn’t want to fall in love or settle down. I’m only hurting myself by sticking around, longing for something that’s not going to happen.

I can’t leave him, of course. I don’t want to, and I’m not sure I could. We work at the same school; he’s embedded in nearly every aspect of my life. Stepping away permanently is off the table.

But maybe…maybe it would be better if I took a break. Just for a week or two, to put this love to rest once and for all. To eat copious amounts of chocolate chips and let myself grieve.

It sounds equal parts scary and blissfully peaceful. What would it be like not to feel this longing, this pain? I don’t know what that would look like, what the landscape of my soul would be like without Carter so deeply embedded there. But I think…I think I’d like to find out.

We’re quiet for the remainder of the drive to my place, and by the time Carter is walking me to my door, I’m a writhing tangle of nerves and anxiety. Should I hold off doing this? Should I wait? All I know is I can’t keep going like this. It’s never hit as strongly as it did a bit ago at Maya’s, but I desperately want a future that Carter can’t give me.

I unlock my door and step into my apartment, leaving Carter outside. I take a deep breath and then turn to look at him.

Crap, he’s gorgeous. His hair is artfully mussed, slightly messy from running his fingers through it. Even though it’s dark out, his blue eyes are still vibrant, especially as I flip a switch and the outside light turns on. His hands are tucked casually into his front pockets, and everything about him is so achingly beautiful that I want to cry.

“Hey,” I begin, my voice cracking. I clear my throat and force myself to speak again. “I’m going to do most of my lesson planning and continuing education stuff this week and next. So I probably won’t be around as much.”

It’s a lame excuse. I can do that stuff and still see Carter. I know it, he knows it. But I’m desperate.

“Okay,” he says after a second’s hesitation. “Want me to bring you lunches? Take out Chinese or grab you wings from Joey’s or something?”

Dang it. That is so thoughtful. Why is he so thoughtful? Could he not just make this easy on me?

“Um, no, thanks,” I say. “I’ll probably be in the groove”—oflesson planning?I think to myself—“so I’ll just find stuff at home.”

“Uh-huh,” he says, narrowing his eyes, assessing me. “You’re avoiding me. Why?”

“What?” I say, shifting uncomfortably where I stand in the doorway. “No I’m not.”

I am. I fully am.

“Yes you are,” he says, folding his arms across his chest. “Look at you—you can’t even meet my eye. Come on, Sam. What’s wrong?”

I sigh. “Look, I just think maybe we should…you know.” I clear my throat. “Take a little break.”

He looks blankly at me. “A break from what?”

“Just a little break from—from us. From hanging out all the time and stuff. Just so we can focus on other things too.” I swallow; the words sound terrible and my logic is flawed and I hate everything. I hate this conversation, and I hate even more that I have to keep going.

“A break from us,” Carter says with a frown. I can tell the words don’t make sense to him, despite the fact that there’s nothing complex about them.

“Carter, I—I need some space. I’ve just got some stuff going on that—”

“What stuff? Sam, what’s this about?” he says, taking a step closer.

“Please.” My voice is a strangled whisper, warped by the knot in my throat, by the weight on my chest. “Please,” I repeat. “I just need a little time, okay?”

He takes another step toward me, looking concerned. I hold my hands up to stop him, and he freezes.

---