Carolina’s parting offer to essentially start over r eplayed in Charlie’s head as he tried to sle ep after the great post laser tag discussion. Or at least that was what he’d labeled it in his head in an attempt to catalogue it somehow. Because he still didn’t know exactly what had happened. Neither did he have a clue what Carolina wanted to happen next. He had no illusions about who was calling the shots, and it wasn’t him. If he hoped for a real second chance, what choice did he have but to wait her out? It hadn’t es caped his notice that he’d turned out all the pockets of his heart, leaving everything inside him on the table, and Carolina hadn’t even acknowledged it. He’d told her that he loved her. Twice. Nada in return. Seemed like a running theme with the Wilson-Kline show. What would she advise him to do if he was a woman who called in to her show with the exact same scenario? Two bucks said she’d tell him to walk out the door. Don’t devalue yourself like that, Charlene (or whatever name he’d have as a female version of himself). You deserve someone who can say the words that express their feelings. He wasn’t so sure that was the issue here. Carolina had a lot of things going on beneath her surface and hearing her admit she still had feelings for him was high on his list of stuff that definitely needed to come out of her mouth. But he could wait. He’d waited this long. The issue he’d been grappling with was a much de eper question: what was it going to take to flip the switch that would allow her to land on his side of the love triumphs over all debate? More tools than he had at his disposal, that was for sure. He never should have framed this reunion as a bet. She was too focused on it, too focused on winning. But he couldn’t have envisioned another way to get her back into his orbit. And it was way too late to admit he really didn’t care about the TV show anymore. If he ever had in the first place. One of the benefits of being his own boss was that he didn’t actually have to get out of bed if he didn’t want to. Charlie had deliberately set his live show at two p. m., a time he had a pretty decent shot at never missing regardless of whatever might have k ept him up the night before. Funny how he’d envisioned a woman’s attention occupying his nighttime sle eping hours and sure enough, that’s exactly what had happened. The irony was that she hadn’t actually been present. He’d just ended up obsessing about the state of his relationship with her instead. His plan to hide in bed until he couldn’t physically stay in it any longer got dashed to bits when his phone rang. It was across the room, next to his computer, where he always left it. When it sat on the bedside table, he picked it up far too often, and he’d been trying to break the habit of mindless app surfing while trying to fall asle ep.
Groaning, he rolled out from under the sheets. What kind of heathen actually dialed up a real phone call? He had calls blocked for everyone but those on his approved list, so either someone was dying or someone needed bail money. Neither. It was his agent, speaking of TV shows he wished would drop off the face of the earth. “Yeah?” He cradled the phone on his bare shoulder as he pulled on some pants. Talking on the phone naked felt weird. “We need to update the producers of the show on your progress,” Ray said, never one to bother with niceties. “They’re talking about doing the pilot show on how you won back your ex-wife. But the story has to be better than good.” “She’s not going to agree to that.” “She’s not going to be on the show,” Ray countered smoothly. “We don’t even have to have her consent if you don’t ever mention her name.” “That can’t be true.” Charlie frowned as he whumped into the desk chair, which felt more businesslike than lounging on the bed while he talked. “People know who I’m married to. They’re not idiots.” “Knowing and saying her name on the air are two different things.” This was why he had an agent. To worry about stuff like this. But unfortunately, this was going to be his problem more than Ray’s, because he was a moron who hadn’t thought through all of the realities of having won the bet. “The problem is that she’ll see the show,” Charlie said. His temples started to pound as he envisioned exactly what she’d see—a systematic breakdown of what tools he’d used, how he’d employed them, what her reaction was. The exact point when she’d surrendered. While she must have some academic understanding that he’d been on his game since moment one, actually spelling it out would not go well. She’d feel manipulated and question his sincerity. He could feel it coming. Which part of us is real, Charlie? When you said you love me, which tool was that? How can I trust you when you’ve been strategizing since the beginning? Wouldn’t it be hilarious if he admitted that he hadn’t made any appreciable progress until he abandoned all of his tools and just went with raw honesty? Hey, viewers. Just open up your veins and bleed a lot. Hope that your significant other doesn’t mind the mess. Pray she gives you another chance. Don’t have much more advice than that. Tune in next week when I’ll give you the secret to months of anguish—propose too early! Made for a boring TV show. “Tell them I don’t have anything to r eport,” Charlie said as evenly as he could. “We had a date last night that went well but it’s too soon to say anything definitive.” “Okay. But you don’t have much time left.” Yeah. He was aware. “I’ll call you back when I have something.”
Morosely, he threw the phone on the desk with a clatter. So this was the line in the sand. If he won the bet, he’d lose Carolina. Great thing to realize the night after they’d finally hashed out what had happened with their first marriage. To a point anyway. He still didn’t fully understand what had caused her to freak out. And that gave him no reassurances that she wouldn’t do it again. Maybe they weren’t done with the hash out. Maybe that was why his spine was crawling with invisible ants. Shrugging on a shirt, he ventured out of his bedroom to find Carolina head down over a tablet, likely reading a book. She glanced up with a smile that poleaxed him so hard, his toes went numb. They’d turned a corner last night. He hadn’t imagined that. But at what cost? “Good morning,” she called. “I was starting to think you weren’t ever getting up.” “Long night,” he mumbled, running a hand through his rumpled hair, suddenly at a loss. Was this what “starting from here” looking like? What would happen if he just went with it? He could sort out the TV show pilot and what their relationship looked like after the two-week wager period was up later. Without letting himself overthink it, he pulled the tablet from her hand, laid it on the coffee table and crawled into her, wrapping her up in his arms as he twisted until they were so intertwined that he couldn’t tell where she started and he ended. “Good morning,” he murmured as he nuzzled her hair right where it smelled most like woman and freesia and home. Blond chunks slid along his knuckles like silk and he didn’t mind her little purr of contentment either, not when she pressed so close to him that he felt it in his gut. “This couch isn’t really made for two,” she said because she was still Carolina and her job on this planet was to make really sure he never got too big of an ego. “I heartily disagree.” He got busy proving to her how well the couch worked for the activity he had in mind, which was draining them both of reason and logic via a kiss. It worked. On his side at least. After a long night of analyzing the daylights out of every word that had been uttered between them, it was nirvana to just feel. To let her heat and light soothe his ragged nerves. If this was starting over, he was a fan. “Maybe we could get started on the honeymoon portion of this honeymoon,” he growled into her ear as he explored the softness he found there. Carolina stiffened underneath him and not in a good way. “Maybe you could give a girl a chance to breathe. And lay off the Ding Dongs. How much do you weigh, anyway?” With a sigh, he rolled from the couch and went to fortify himself with a cup of coffee. The carafe was cold, not that he expected anything less since it was so late. But still. Insult to injury.
“You didn’t have to leave,” Carolina called from the living room, her gaze tracking him from across the granite island s eparating the spaces. “Didn’t I?” he commented much more mildly than his current mood should have dictated. “Clearly we have different ideas about appropriate morning activities, and I need to be somewhere I can’t smell you as a result.” Carolina arched a brow. “I had no clue I was that irresistible.” “You’re still using the body wash I gave you.” Though why he had to explain this fundamental fact of male biology was beyond him. “You do the math.” “I like it.” She shrugged. “Since it turns you into a raving caveman, I’ll switch.” “You do recall that we’re married, right?” He stuck coffee in his mouth before he could say something else stupid with a side of vulnerable. Her expression didn’t reveal a single drop of her thoughts. “Hard to forget.” “Then it shouldn’t be such a shock to your system that I might want to indulge in normal marital intimacy.” That put a hitch in her stride. She sat up, crossing her arms over her midsection. “That was never part of our deal.” “No. Because this isn’t about the bet.” More coffee needed, stat. “We’re way past that point. This is about what we need from each other. This is a marriage. At what point are you going to start acting like it’s one?” “When we’re not having a ménage a trois with a bet,” she shot back heatedly. “I’m not adding marital intimacy into the mix when I still don’t have any idea what’s real between us.” That admission hung between them, stark and painful. Because it mirrored exactly what he’d already realized and hoped would prove untrue. There wasn’t a path forward here. He’d failed. If he won, he lost her. If he let her win the bet, he lost her. It was way past time to call it. “Everything between us is real,” he said. Especially how much it hurt when she stabbed him in the heart. “You’re never going to trust me, are you?” That was the bottom line. Some psychologist he was. How could he have missed that she’d brought her own prejudices into this relationship from the beginning? It was why she counseled women to get out. She thought men were inherently dogs, worthy of being treated like one without exc eption or explanation. No tool in the world could fix what had already been broken inside her before he’d even arrived on the scene. It didn’t make him feel any better. Just sad. “Are we redoing last night’s discussion or starting a whole new one?” she asked and laced her fingers together as if settling in for a long chat. At least that was something. She wasn’t dashing for the door. Too bad he’d finally realized that her proximity didn’t matter. She’d never
had any intention of giving him a fighting chance. “A whole new one. About how there’s no point in continuing this wager.” That bobbled her composure. “Because you’re declaring yourself the victor already? Nice. I don’t even get the courtes—” “Carolina, don’t. I’m declaring the whole thing null and void. The bet is over. It’s a draw.” Suddenly standing felt way beyond his capacity. He dropped his coffee cup in the sink, shocked the earthenware mug didn’t shatter, and braced both hands on the granite at the lip of the undermount sink. “A draw? That’s rich. Because that way no one gets to win. My viewers won’t put up with that and frankly I’m surprised yours will.” She’d waltzed into the kitchen without seeming to realize his sanity was hanging by a thread. As long as she didn’t touch him, he might come out the other side of this evisceration without letting on how much it had cost. “My viewers are the least of my concerns at this point. You can have your annulment. Send me the papers like last time.” “I don’t understand.” Because this hadn’t gotten difficult enough and she’d never been one to tune in to his subtext, she trailed her fingers down his arm. “What’s going on? Surely you’re not mad about the fact that I didn’t want to confuse myself by sle eping with you.” “Not even in the top ten,” he said with a bitter laugh. “It’s over, Carolina. I can’t do this anymore. You’re never going to believe that I’m here because I want to be with you. You’re never going to trust me. You’re always going to have one foot over the threshold, and I can’t live like that.” “Oh, so the fact that I have intimacy issues is a reason to give up. I see.” She crossed her arms, backing up against the counter as if she couldn’t get away fast enough, her face a hard mask. “All of that stuff we talked about last night. That means nothing to you. I was open and honest and now I’m being punished for it, is that it?” What was this conversation they were having? Was she actually digging in? As if she really wanted the second chance he’d been desperately trying to force? They’d completely gone off the rails. Surely this was her competitive gene kicking up a storm because he’d flipped the bet on its head. She had no idea what she was even arguing about. Obviously. “Are you even listening to what I’m saying?” A hard head shake did not loosen the vicelike grip this whole scene had on his temples. “You’re free to go. I’m not going to hold you to the agreement.” “I don’t want to be released like a bird being reintroduced to the wild. I was serious last night about starting from here.” She pointed at the travertine tiles that covered the kitchen floor. “I’m willing to see how things progress. There’s no reason we can’t assess as we go, and at the end of the two weeks, I’m totally open to an evaluation of who has the better philosophy.” Blankly he stared at her. “You’re not listening to what I’m saying either. The bet is over. The bet can’t be a factor in our relationship and shouldn’t be. I gave up all my tools a while back. This is me. Unvarnished.
Trying to love you. And that’s the part that’s not working.” “Because I’m unlovable?” “No, sweetheart.” He shut his eyes for a moment as he scrambled for the right words to explain what was in his heart. “Because that’s not what you need. I’m trying to put you first. The definition of love isn’t manipulating someone into being with you. It’s setting them free so they can make their own choices.” “That was dumb when Sting said it and it’s dumb now.” Something broke inside him then with an audible snap. “Please. Don’t hold back. Tell me how you really feel.” “Sarcasm isn’t exactly called for here, is it?” “I don’t know what’s called for here, Carolina! That’s the problem.” He couldn’t hold still a second longer. His legs ate up the travertine as he paced out of her reach, his thoughts a jumble. But one thing was clear. It was too late to fix any of this. “Here’s the irony,” he blurted out. “I was in this for the long haul. The first time. I never would have walked out on you, but yet you were the one who couldn’t trust me. Guess what? Now I’m the one who’s gun-shy.” It was all starting to clarify. He’d made a lot of mistakes with their first marriage, and apparently he’d decided to make all new ones the second time. Carolina wasn’t the problem here. He was. He couldn’t trust her not to hurt him again. And if that was true, what was he doing here?