All Chapters of The Carrero Heart (series book 2): Chapter 11 - Chapter 20
222 Chapters
11
This has been an aching cavern in my chest for eighteen months, as he slowly drifted away with the first throes of his first committed relationship, and a life in the city that didn’t include me. I’ve been losing him slowly and surely, and it’s contributed in part to why I started dating so many men. I was trying to find someone for me, someone that would care about me as much as he always did. I want someone to make me feel the way he does when he’s around: safe, loved, and secure. Like I’m home.“That’s not true.” Arrick makes to pull me back to him, but I step further away. Slapping his hands away childishly. Immature me peeking out to show face.“Can you name one time in the last year, or more, that you called me to just talk or to hang out; one time that you have been near me while I was sober, and not in need of being rescued? And I don’t mean the party invites or when we run into each other!&rd
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12
“Sit.” Arrick pushes me down on the long mink colored fabric couch and then scoops down to unbuckle my shoes. I sink down obediently, lifting cold aching legs as warm hands encircle my ankles, and he slides down to rest himself on his own thighs. Lifting one foot at a time onto his knee, he unlatches me from my self-inflicted restraints and sets my burning feet free. I swear I love my shoes, but sometimes they just kill me. Whoever said fashion isn’t pain is a liar. He takes my shoes and moves off to lay them on the floor, pulling his jacket from my shoulders and throws it towards one of the armchairs.“Thanks.” I grin at him sleepily, more than aware he is only doing it as I moaned every step of the way from his car to the elevator about the agony I was enduring, my tiredness, my inability to stand to be upright anymore, and then used him as a crutch while wai
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13
 “Are you hungry? I’m starving! I was supposed to be at dinner now, a late one with Tasha.” He glances my way, catches my eye, and cutely furrows his brows at me.‘’I’m sorry. You can still go and leave me here. I promise I’ll just go to bed while you salvage your dinner plans. Go … I mean it.” I urge him warily, watching the lack of change in his expression, just intent on what he’s doing, and he shrugs with one shoulder as if to dismiss my suggestion. I feel worse than bad knowing he ruined his whole night to come scrape me off a club floor. Again.“I can call us a pizza or something. What do you fancy?” He completely blanks my suggestion about leaving me here, and I wonder if it’s because he doesn’t want to go or if he thinks I can’t be trusted, and the second he leaves I will hightail it back to a nightclub. I watch his face for a second to analyze which it may be and se
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14
“I believe you. I know you. Stubborn and headstrong and sometimes stupidly impulsive, but when you make a decision, Sophie, it is pretty hard to sway you at all. If you’re telling me that this ends here, tonight, that you want to go home and sort yourself out, then I’m with you. I believe you. I know you would never tell me just what I want to hear.” He glances across my face, letting go of my hand so he can brush my hair back and tucks it behind my ear tenderly, still close enough to breathe me in and I impulsively lean my head back against his shoulder.“I’m tired. I just want to think about one step at a time and let it all go. Let the pieces start falling into place tomorrow.” I sigh pleadingly, fully fatigued as waves of exhaustion flow over me to remind me how dead on my feet I am and curl my legs up under me to get comfy.“How about we just make like we used to? Pizza, a movie, and chill on the couch for the rest o
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15
I wake up with a dry mouth, burning eyes and pounding head as the sound of music assaults my senses. Arrick has tunes pounding through the floors as I blink awake and realize I am still on the couch, face down, and the blanket is wrapped around my legs like freaking restraints. I feel like utter shit, and the table is littered with cold pizza and the scraps of a weird middle of the night scramble for food. We ate, fell asleep and woke up at the same time. Well actually, stretching out and slapping the back of my hand in his face was the catalyst for his grumpy rise from the dead, and he did try to push me off the sofa in retaliation.We raided the kitchen for munchies, watched another movie for like an hour while grumpily arguing over absolute pointless crap because we were both tired, and in my opinion, Tom Cruise is far hotter with an Irish accent and boxing gloves, than he is in either T
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16
Arrick’s sat on the couch looking equally sparkly and clean this morning, I guess he used the shower in the spare room seeing as I was hogging his, and is dressed in a white tee that fits a little too well over black jeans. He has on black socks, but no shoes, and is sitting focused on his phone texting while he props his heels on the coffee table, looking like a kid himself like this. He smiles up at me when he sees me.“You look better, less crime scene massacre and more innocent little Sophabelle.” He pats the seat next to him and I notice the smoothie on the table beside his coffee. He always used to make me a morning smoothie when I stayed here, as he knows I am not a morning coffee drinker in the least. I can tell by the color that it’s banana and strawberry, my favorite. I beam his way, giddy on all that makes me happy today, now that the shower got me out of my grumpy ass morning mood.“Thanks for the ego boost.” I w
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17
From the banging around in the kitchen and the smell of food for the last few minutes, I assume the one known as ‘girlfriend’ is being all domestic and shit and acting like the good little housewife she aspires to be. I’ve managed to dry my hair into some sort of straight silkiness without having straighteners and I’m literally starving. I ended up leaving most of my smoothie out in the Livingroom and it will be ruined by now, warm and melted and totally unpalatable.I can hear Arry talking to her as I make my way out, swallowing down that tide of sheer ‘grrrr’ I always get when she’s around, and walk casually out into the middle of the room; unaffected by the presence of the little dark cloud in the apartment.I catch sight of him leaning his butt against the kitchen counter, tossing an apple up
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18
Arrick is traditional in so many ways, but never in that way. I think if he ever expected that from me, if I were her, I would poison his beer with drain cleaner and tell him to go shove his cooking pots up his ass. I don’t know why she sees being that way as some sort of fulfilling life. I thought women burned their bras back in the nineteen sixties to get away from that role.I don’t think I ever want to be that girl, for any man. I want to be something that I love, with a life more fulfilling than someone’s domestic sex slave. Like maybe in fashion or design, have my own little studio one day and spend my life flying to events all over the world, while showing off my ideas and lines.A strange feeling settles inside of me when this pops crazily into my head and I find myself staring out onto the New York skyline dreamil
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19
He watches me for a few seconds before reaching out and catches my hand across the table, interlacing my fingers in his in a gesture that makes me instantly forget how much of an ass he’s been all morning.“I’m glad you came home with me, glad that we talked and had ‘us’ time.” Smiling at me honestly, no cool guard up and I melt back at him, all moods fluttering away in the light of that smile.“Me too.” I pull my hand away as I see ‘Madame of the kitchen’ coming our way with plates and a dish towel slung over one arm. Even though I know there’s nothing in it, it makes me uncomfortable, her seeing when he’s being warmly affectionate. She smiles brightly, completely pleased with herself no doubt, for her culinary masterpiece, as she slides two plates of pancakes in front of us.Or should I say two plates of weird looking ‘splat’ cakes swimming in a white fluid of some sort that ha
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20
“Serves you right,” he mumbles under his breath, lifting brows and grinning at me. He looks back over his shoulder to see she hasn’t heard and gets back to downing his food like a starved dog. I wonder if he’s perfected the art of wolfing it down, so he doesn’t taste it.“Here, drink slowly. Do you need me to pat your back?” Natasha appears at the side of me, flapping around me and sliding my glass in front of my face as though she really thinks she needs to manually make me drink it. I take it from her with a weird squint her way.Yeah, calm yourself, Mom.“Sure I can drink this just fine; it’s passed anyway; must have just gone down the wrong way.” I fake smile brightly and clear my throat, already feeling his judgy eyes on me in case I offend his stupid woman again and picking up on my sarcastic tone, even when veiled in super sweetness.“She’s fine Tasha, sit and
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