Page 88 of I Think He Knows
My cheeks turn red at his words. “I’msayingthe place is so beautifully decorated. And I know you said that the library room was just for storing your books, but I’m going to spend all my time reading in there from now on. In fact, you might never see me again.”
“Actually, the room’s designed for both reading and writing.” He looks at me with a secret smile. “There’s a desk in there with a special chair and a screen to plug in your laptop.”
“Are you writing something?” I ask, puzzled.
“No, silly. Butyoucould be.”
I pause for a moment. “What?”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened at Target last week, and I think youshouldwrite a book now that Allegra’s a bit older and you have more time. Obviously, it doesn’t have to be a bad dates book—I would never expect you to relive a date with that douchecanoe if you didn’t want to. But you’re a great writer, Lan, and you could totally do this. Your mom would have been thrilled.”
A chill runs through me despite the heat of the night.
I love that he thinks this. Love that he understands my love of literature, and that when I was younger, I wanted nothing more than to spend four years in college soaking up every drop of prose and poetry I could like a sponge. Back then, I wanted to become a literary critic. Or a professional book reviewer. Or work at a library. Become an editor.
Better yet, I would have loved to write my own book.
Over the span of my childhood, I escaped into books and I wanted my adult life to be as bookishly wonderful as possible. My father laughed at these notions. My mother celebrated them. She devoured every short story I wrote. Buddy read everything from Dickens and Rowling to Steel and King with me.
When I found out that I was pregnant with Allegra and college wasn’t going to be an option—at least, not like I’d originally planned it—she offered to look after Legs while I studied for my GED. Picked up a million brochures so that we could pore over potential evening classes at the community college.
And then, Mom was gone, and the dream slipped through my fingers.
I thought it was gone forever and I made my peace with it, eventually. Literature and writing was something I could never pursue. I fell into being a travel agent, and let myself forget all about it.
But Carter James Callahan didn’t forget.
He knows me better than I know myself. He’s the total Jess to my Rory right now, and I wish there was a way to communicate to him that I don’t give a crap about finding my Logan. Because I was team freaking Jess all along.
“Carter, that is… incredible. The most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.”
“Figured it was worth doing on the off chance that you and Allegradidstay here while we did this whole engagement thing. I wanted you to have time and space to explore that part of yourself again. If you wanted to.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Then don’t say anything. Just write.”
There’s a lump in my throat as I say, “I will.”
“And if it’s anywhere near as sexy as that book I found on your nightstand, sign me up to be the first reader.” He winks at me and our eyes catch, and though he’s laughing, I see heat flare in his gaze.
“Ha,” I say, a little breathless. “Enjoyed that one, did you?”
“I like that they started out as friends.”
“Me, too.” I bite down on my bottom lip, and his gaze moves to my mouth. The same heat in his eyes simmers in my core.
“I think I need to cool off.” Without warning, Carter pushes himself off the edge of the pool and into the water. Swims to the middle, then ducks beneath the surface and disappears for a few long moments as I sit here, heart pounding in my throat, skin prickling with anticipation.
When he finally surfaces near the edge, close to me again, he shakes out his hair. “You getting in?”
My stomach is clenched tight. I know what he’s doing, ducking into the pool like that. He’s giving me time and space to process, to make my own decision about what’s going to happen next. And there’s only one possible answer.
“Yes.”
I stand, peel off my robe, awkwardly adjust the butt of my suit…
And look down to realize that I had no reason to feel insecure about my body for even a moment.