On Sunday morning, I found myself wide awake at 6 am, a bundle of nerves enveloping me. I was amazed that sleep had even graced me at all. Upon glancing at the outfit I had carefully chosen the previous night, it became evident that it was completely off the mark. Thus, I embarked on a mission within my closet, tossing various options into a bag. A sense of certainty was reserved solely for my nude wedges - those were non-negotiable. As I loaded up the car, I made a call to Caroline. After a second attempt, she picked up.
"Hello?" she greeted.
"I've decided to cancel with Carter," I announced.
She let out an audible groan. "Just come over."
Having already bombarded her with my outfit concerns throughout the previous night, I had exhausted her patience. I meticulously detailed my wardrobe choices, even meticulously planning my hair and makeup. I recognized the irrationality of my actions, but I couldn't shake it. The prospect of facing Carter with uncertainty about my appearance was simply unbearable.
Upon reaching Caroline's abode, she promptly directed me into the shower. Emerging, wrapped in a towel, I was met with a dress laid out on the bed and a bottle of tequila in her grasp.
"Take a shot," she commanded, handing me the glass. Though I made a face, I obliged, realizing that I was in no position to argue. Another shot followed before she seated me at her makeshift dining table. She initiated the hair styling process with a curling wand before progressing to makeup. An hour later, she pointed to the dress and instructed me to put it on.
The dress she had chosen was an ethereal white lace creation, featuring a scooped neckline and puffed short sleeves. Its length, reaching mid-thigh, surprised me, given Caroline's preference for shorter dresses.
"It was on sale," she explained casually, responding to my comment on its departure from her usual style. "I knew it was too large when I bought it. Fits you perfectly," she remarked, cinching a slim beige belt around my waist.
Completing the ensemble were my trusty nude wedges. As I surveyed myself in the mirror, Caroline rummaged through her jewelry box. I was taken aback by the reflection before me. My complexion appeared flawless, my lashes stood out impressively, long and elegantly curled, accentuating my eyes. The gold shimmer and brown eyeliner she had expertly applied brought out the flecks in my hazel eyes, resulting in a soft and natural allure. A glossy rose shade adorned my lips, and my hair cascaded in waves past my shoulders. The dress, modest yet captivating, hugged my curves perfectly, and the wedges lent an air of length and grace to my legs.
"Caroline, oh my goodness," I began, truly in awe. The overwhelming sensation engulfed me, and I struggled to recall the last time I had felt so beautiful.
"I know. I'm practically a magician," she quipped, returning to adorn me with a sizable gold locket that complemented the gold studs in my ears. "You might need to embrace a few common practices…"
"Hire you as my personal stylist?" I beamed.
Her response was swift. "Absolutely not! Dive into YouTube. Explore beauty tutorials. And by the way, a trip to the hair salon is long overdue." She guided me to the door. "Best of luck. Remember to call me!"
I pledged to do so before departing for Button's. Arriving at the restaurant ahead of schedule, I sent a text to Carter to inform him of my presence and settled into my car to wait. My nerves continued their restless dance, but Caroline's artistry had bestowed upon me a feeling akin to donning a character's costume. All I needed to do was play the part – an exceptionally composed, confident, and irresistibly alluring alter ego who could conquer the world, one man at a time. To get into character, I listened to Beyoncé in my car. Not even five minutes after sending the text, Carter's truck pulled up. Stepping out of my car, I watched him park a short distance away before he spotted me and headed in my direction.
"Good morning," I greeted, a smile gracing my lips.
"Good morning," he greeted, his gaze sweeping over me. "You're looking great," he commented as his eyes finally met mine. The compliment was modest, yet the way he said it and the intensity of his gaze sent a surge of confidence and awareness coursing through me.
"Likewise," I replied sincerely. He had opted for a clean and simple ensemble – pressed khakis and a navy-blue printed shirt. His neatly trimmed goatee added a touch of sophistication that I adored. He always managed to exude an air of effortless charm, a quality I often struggled to match. However, today, for once, I felt on par with him. If all went well, I even contemplated capturing a selfie of us together.
"Happy Father's Day," I offered, wrapping my arms around him in a hug.
"Thank you," he responded, stepping back slightly.
"Is it strange not having CJ with you?" I inquired as we made our way towards the restaurant.
"A bit. I actually wanted him for the entire weekend, but he insisted on staying at his mom's to surprise me."
I couldn't help but smile. "You might want to work on your 'surprised' face, considering you already know about it."
"Well, I'm genuinely surprised he put in this much effort."
"I'm not. You're an incredible dad. It makes perfect sense," I remarked.
"Thanks, Katy," Carter said, his gaze locking with mine as he held the door open for me.
Blushing, I entered the restaurant, immediately greeted by the tantalizing aroma of the buffet spread. Thankfully, Carter had secured a reservation, sparing us from a long wait.
"Have you spoken to your dad yet?" Carter inquired as he followed me to our table, allowing the hostess to guide us.
"Yes, actually. Yesterday. That's when he received my gift," I revealed, selecting a chair and settling in.
I had chosen a Brookstone gift certificate and a Hallmark card for my dad, although I acknowledged that it wasn't the most personalized or thoughtful gesture. Normally, I prided myself on being an exceptional gift giver, often leaving people wishing I were their Secret Santa. However, when it came to my dad, I had struggled to find the perfect gift – he was notoriously difficult to shop for.
"We talked for about five minutes, and he guilt-tripped me into planning a trip back to California soon. I suppose I'll have to head there anyway to retrieve the remainder of my belongings when Caroline and I move into our apartment next month," I rambled on. The combination of tequila shots, sleep deprivation, and hunger seemed to have made me unusually chatty. Yet, Carter seemed unfazed as he nodded along.
"Already found an apartment?" he inquired.
"Yes, indeed. It's a wonderful townhome in Addison. I'm eager for you to see it. We just need to finalize the lease," I replied, my excitement palpable.
"Fantastic. Congratulations," he congratulated.
As the waitress approached, Carter asked, "Shall we toast to celebrate?"
I shook my head, declining. "No, I'm planning to dedicate my stomach's capacity to the buffet. Drinks would just take up valuable space."
He grinned at my reasoning and proceeded to order coffee for himself, water for me, and the buffet for both of us. Once the waitress departed, we rose to gather our food. We perused the offerings, taking our time before assembling plates filled with French toast, cheese grits, fried fish, collard greens, fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, and freshly cut fruit. The meal provided a welcome diversion, affording me the chance to relax and become more at ease with Carter's presence. As we savored the food, sharing bites and discussing our favorites, the restaurant grew more bustling. I found myself with little room for seconds, but Carter ventured to fetch some gumbo for us to sample – a dish we had missed during our initial round.
In his absence, a man around my age paused by our table. "That's a lovely dress," he complimented, his gaze appraising me.
"Thank you," I replied with a polite smile. While I appreciated the compliment, his lingering stare on my chest felt somewhat unsettling.
"Treating your dad to breakfast too?" he inquired, finally redirecting his grin to my face.
"No, she isn't," Carter responded on my behalf, placing the gumbo in front of me while giving the man a stern glare. "Understood. Enjoy your meal," the man nodded, departing. Carter only took his seat after the man had walked away.
"Looks like you're making acquaintances," he remarked, passing me a clean spoon.
"Apparently, it's the dress," I chuckled.
As we both sampled the gumbo, I fought the urge to break into a victory shimmy in my chair. Such a display wouldn't befit my newfound confident persona, but the way Carter had reacted to the stranger's attention fueled my resolve to confess my feelings to him. His possessiveness suggested that he might not be involved with someone else. My jealousy over Karen stemmed from the lingering emotions I held for Carter. Could it be that he still harbored feelings for me too?
"It's quite tasty," Carter commented about the gumbo.
"Yeah… Is it odd that I'm already contemplating where I want to dine next time? This meal is making me crave Razzoo's," I admitted.
"It's been a while since I've been there. I think I've only been twice since your first visit," he grinned at me.
"Ugh, don't remind me," I giggled.
I recalled a past outing with Carter, Roxanna, Caroline, and some of his friends during happy hour. Intoxicated by their gator punch, I struggled to keep pace with Caroline. Carter, however, took excellent care of me.
"We should revisit that place sometime. I feel the need to redeem myself," I suggested, summoning as much confidence as I could muster. While I was confident about Carter's feelings for me, the nerves still crept in as I considered asking him out. I had never taken the initiative in this way before.
"That could be fun. Maybe invite Roxanna and Leon along, to remind them how far they've come since then," Carter proposed, his lips curving into a smirk.
Even if he was serious about a double date, that wasn't what I had in mind for our first outing. I yearned to initiate our relationship rather than celebrate someone else's.
"Yeah, or perhaps just you and me. A date. Just the two of us," I attempted to deliver the line with a casual air. There it was, I had done it. My part was complete, leaving him to respond…
His gaze bore into me, a palpable tension hanging in the air as the seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity. The weight of his scrutiny seemed to press upon me, each passing moment intensifying the gravity of the situation. Then, finally, his lips parted, releasing words that landed like a heavy blow, "I don't think that's a good idea."
In that instant, it was as though time itself had frozen. My heart, which had been beating a rapid rhythm in anticipation, appeared to seize. It was a sensation akin to a suspended breath, an acute awareness that something significant was transpiring. As his words settled in the air, a rush of emotions cascaded through me, a mixture of disappointment, confusion, and a twinge of vulnerability.
With a slow exhale, I released the breath I hadn't even realized I had been holding. It was as if I had been holding onto hope, and his response had forced me to relinquish it. The sigh carried with it a sense of resignation, a coming to terms with the reality of the situation. My chest felt tight, and my fingers curled slightly against the table, a subconscious reaction to the emotional weight of the moment.
"Why not?" I managed to utter, my voice betraying the tremor of uncertainty that had crept into my own ears. The question hung between us, charged with unspoken thoughts and uncharted territory. I braced myself for his answer, unsure of what I truly wanted to hear, yet needing to understand his reasoning.
His next words landed with a measured impact, revealing a truth that cast a shadow over my hopeful heart. "I'm currently seeing someone, Karen," he began, and the name resonated like a distant echo, evoking a face and a history that I hadn't entirely forgotten. "I'm not sure if you remember her—"
The words lingered, leaving an unfinished sentence that hung in the air, pregnant with implications. Memories stirred within me, fragments of conversations and fleeting glances that had once carried meaning. Karen – a name from the past, a presence that had once held significance in his life. The realization settled over me like a heavy fog, obscuring the path I had hoped to traverse.
The room seemed to grow quieter, the surrounding sounds muted by the weight of the revelation. A knot of conflicting emotions tightened within me, a tangle of disappointment, lingering affection, and a growing sense of clarity. The truth was before me, stark and undeniable. The fragile bubble of possibilities had burst, leaving a raw and exposed truth in its wake.