Page 32 of I Think He Knows
“Andhowdid you set your hair on fire?”
I hold up the singed tips of a chunk of my hair and Carter whistles through his teeth. “The inferno was caused by was a horribly placed candle, too much hairspray, and a really hard-to-read drinks menu.”
“That makes perfect sense.”
“‘Course it does.” At this point, I’m laughing because no matter how bad a night it was, all’s well that ends well when I’m spending time with Carter. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”
“I wish it was a surprise visit just to hang out.” The smile slips off Carter’s face and a ghost of a frown touches his lips in place of it. “But there is something important that I need to talk to you about.”
I look at his face and see the pinch between his eyebrows. It’s been a long night. I’m exhausted, and I’m happy to have my best friend here with me. When he talks to me about whatever’s bothering him, I want to be totally focused and alert and present.
“Do you think we could relax and watch some TV first? I’m all talked out right now.”
“Of course.” Carter nods. “We can do whatever you need.”
Deja vu moves through me in an instant at his words, digging up memories from almost a decade ago. I look at Carter to see if he’s thinking of it too, but he just smiles at me. Puts a friendly arm around me and reaches for the remote. “Let’s eat a bunch of chocolate and watch Rory go from boyfriend to boyfriend instead.” I raise a brow at him and he laughs. “Oh please, Lan. If I know you at all, I know that there’s going to be nothing else on that TV tonight butGilmore Girls.”
And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why I love him.
And also why Icannotlove him. Because tomorrow, he’ll talk to me about whateverthisis—by the sounds of things, something about Freya—and then leave for LA again and I probably won’t see him in person again for months.
Back to normality. Back to the way it has to be.
12
CARTER
Back when I first started acting, I also started partying. A lot.
I was lonely and lacking connection when I moved to LA. I had a lot to be grateful for—the simple act of getting that extra role my freshman year of college led to a couple of small bit parts in shows and movies filming in Atlanta that paid better than my landscaping and warehouse jobs. But I was still purposeless in college, in that I had no idea what I wanted to major in, and acting made me enough money in a few short months that I ultimately dropped out and moved to Los Angeles to pursue something I’d never even considered doing before.
I’d finally found an avenue where it was possible to make something of myself. Something that I seemed to begoodat.
Other people thought it was impulsive. Risky, even. But it was the only choice that made sense, crazy as it seemed.
Lucky as I knew I was to have an opportunity ahead of me, I missed Lana Mae and baby Allegra desperately. My only friend on the west coast was an actual astral projector named Rasmus who lived in my shared apartment. And I use the term “friend” very loosely. Mostly on account of the fact that he was always astral projecting (which, from what I can gather, is simply a fancy term for having an out of body experience), so therefore he was not very fun (nor mentally present) to hang out with.
I initially only planned to be gone temporarily, but every time I phoned Lana Mae, she was so encouraging that I should stay. Keep trying out for roles. And she sounded like she was doing well, much better than she had the first few months after her mom died. Her nightmares had stopped by then. She was going to therapy. Spending more time with her brothers, who were helping her out. She no longer needed me to fill that gap for her.
So instead, I went to parties. And I drank. Sometimes way too much. Sometimes waking up in weird places with a fuzzy head.
I’m aware of the part I played in earning my playboy reputation—I’m not stupid. But even in the throes of all the Hollywood glamor and glitter and girls, it never once felt good to wake up in a strange bed.
Until now.
Because this bed may be strange to me, but it doesn’t belong to a stranger. And somehow, I am lying here, fully clothed and above the covers but not wanting to move a single muscle because Lana is nestled into the crook of my arm, honeyed hair streaming across white sheets and gleaming in the morning sunlight. She’s still wearing those stained sweats, but now, they’re paired with the most serene, peaceful expression on her face as she sleeps. It’s beautiful.
She’sbeautiful.
“CARTER?!”
Lana and I both jolt upright to see Allegra standing in the doorway, wild-haired and wide-eyed. She looks more like her mother every day—big brown eyes, high cheekbones and a permanently mischievous look on her face. “What’re you doing here? Are we going to the zoo again? Oooh, or swimming? We could go swimming!”
I glance at Lana Mae, unsure what to say or do. We always do activities involving Legs when I come home to visit, but she’s certainly never seen me in her mother’s bedroom before. I don’t want to speak for Lana, so I stay silent as she sits up, rubs a hand over her eyes a little frantically, and says, “Hey, baby. Carter was just—”
“Oh my gosh, wait! Areyougoing to be my new daddy?” She smiles right at me as she twirls into the room, bare feet padding on the soft carpet.
Oh, frick.