Page 105 of I Think He Knows

“What nonsense?”

“You know as well as I do that that boy only wants one thing in his life. And it sure ain’t no movie role.”

“ButIf Onlyis—”

“If Onlyis what hewasgoing for before he knew that he had the option to be with you. Carter doesn’t care about the Oscars. Or being in any more movies. Or even going to Zac Efron’s parties, which is beyond my comprehension. Carter’s not himself when he’s not with you, and between you and me, I think he spends most of his time here in LA counting down the days until he’s home in Atlanta again.”

I blink, caught off guard by Anthony’s words that I so desperately want to believe, but don’t know if I can let myself. “He does?”

Anthony shakes his head and casts his eyes heavenward. “Child, why do you think he went and bought a family home and decorated it in all your favorite colors? That boy isnesting, I tell you.”

Nesting.My mind flits back to the library room. A custom-made room that looked like it was produced straight from my wildest dreams. A room that I, specifically, know I belong in.

He, quite literally, made room for me in his house.

“I…I was just trying to protect his future,” I say feebly, embarrassed to feel a sob catching in my throat.

A smile. “And what ifyou’rehis future, but you’re too busy trying to give him something youthinkhe wants when what he really wants is you?”

Anthony’s words run over me like water, and I finally—finally—let myself drink them in. I spent so much time in therapy over the years, working through my hurt and grief, and trying to change my thought patterns about myself. Yet, when push came to shove and I was confronted with Carter saying that he was choosing me over his career, I straight-away panicked and fell back into old thoughts about myself: that he was a Hollywood star with the world at his feet, and I was a single mom tied to Atlanta who would only ever hold him back.

I know that he’s what I want; the person who’s best for me. But I never stopped to consider that, maybe, I’m what’s best for him, too. That we’re better together, and our careers, and the places we live, and the things we want to achieve will always come second to having each other. Our safe place. Together.

And yeah, he didn’t tell me what really happened. But it wasn’t for his own gain—he was trying to protect me from blaming myself. He was clearly right to do so, because as soon as the truth came out, that was what I immediately did. Guess old habits really do die hard.

But I am so much more than what those negative, anxious thoughts tell me I am.

Plus, didn’t I hold back from him, too? All this crap about clout, about wanting to use our fake engagement to ultimately find my Logan. Which is ridiculously idiotic because everyone knows Rory should’ve ended up with Jess.

That lie was the only thing about mine and Carter’s engagement that was fake for me.

As long as we’re together, everything will be okay. But for that to truly happen, I need to start treating myself as someone I love. Someone who’s worthy. Someone who’s worth staying for.

My actions tonight were out of fear, not love. And I feel like a total jerk, leaving him like that. Leaving him when he needed me, when he asked me to stay. He would never leave me ifIaskedhimto stay.

Because he’s Carter. The best man I’ve ever met.

I need him. And maybe he needs me. Which means that I need to change my thinking for good, and fix this.

Leaving was definitely not what I should have done.

“Anthony, I think I need to go. Now!” I wave my hands frantically at the divider separating us from the driver. “Ted, stop the car!”

Anthony puts his hands on my arms. “Girl, we are parked. The car never even started moving. Now, get your butt out there and go get your man.”

37

LANA MAE

I fling open the door and stumble out of the limo as inelegantly as I first stumbled into it. I race back down the street, half-blinded by old tears and mascara, and I push the doors to the theater.

Locked.

A security guard is standing nearby, but without Carter by my side, I must look like a rabid, crazed fan trying to enter the place to throw my panties at him. Or whatever it is that stalkers do.

I take a step back, trying to think of my next move. Carter’s got to be watching the movie now, so I guess I can sit here for the next hour and a half and hope I don’t get the urge to pee. And also hope that he exits through this particular door afterward.

Yeah, solid plan, Lana Mae.