Neither of us say anything.

Neither of us have said anything since we sat down. I know my mug of coffee is getting cold, but I can't find the strength to drink it. Instead, I let my eyes travel along the first floor again now that the sun's coming up. There's a dining room just off the kitchen, and two more fireplaces that resemble the one upstairs. Funky light fixtures hang from the ceilings, and the art adorning the walls are eye catching for sure.

But none of it compares to the window.

It takes up the length of the wall on the farside of the living room and faces a different view than upstairs. Instead of the blanket of snow, I'm met with the New York skyline. It looks way different than it does in the movies — I can't even see the Empire State Building. Regardless, it's a breathtaking view; I've never been to a big city before, much less the most famous one in the world.

Carter clears his throat, pulling me back to our strange new reality. "So, how do you want to do this?"

My voice feels strained when I talk. All the shouting has taken a toll. "Do what?"

"This. How do you want to work through what's going on?"

"I don't know, Carter," I say, more impatient than I mean it to be. "You were the one begging me to stay. I assumed you had a plan."

"I was hoping we could make that plan together," Carter sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. My eyes flicker to the clock above the oven that reads 6:15. It makes me wonder what time he went to bed last night — we went to bed last night.

"Well, what did I really do yesterday? Maybe retracing my steps will jog something."

Carter taps a finger against his mug, a nervous tick of his. "You didn't really do anything. We spent most of yesterday laying in bed... "

Ignoring the heat that races to my cheeks, I grace over the last part. "Do we not have jobs?"

"I canceled all my showings, and you left your job about a month ago. We try to take at least a day or two out of the week for quality time, and yesterday just happened to be one of them. Not much to really jog your memory with besides—"

He cuts himself off, leaving me to fill in what we did in bed myself. If I wasn't blushing before, my face is beat red now.

I'm nowhere near ready to broach that topic, so I keep the conversation focused on something light. "Why don't I work anymore?"

"That one's kinda complicated. Long answer short, it became less of a priority for you."

I'm not shocked; me and work rarely go hand in hand. "Well, what was I doing?"

He takes a longer sip of coffee this time, then keeps his gaze on the mug. His hesitation to tell me something as simple as my career choice doesn't bode well for the rest of the conversation.

"You were an attorney. Criminal prosecution."

Now I understand his reluctance — he didn't want to tell me because it's ridiculous.

"Carter, I bomb practice tests for the SAT. I've had to swallow a lot of shit all morning, but me taking the bar exam is by far the biggest pile of it. There's no way I would pass."

He snorts. "That's exactly what you said back when you were studying for it. It took us weeks of practice tests to get your scores up, but you did pass. I still have the flashcards I made you somewhere in a drawer, minus the ones you tore up in frustration. If you need further proof though, your degree is hanging in the office."

He gestures to a hallway behind us, but I don't move to get up. The only thing crazier than me studying for a test is Carter helping me do it. It just doesn't make any sense.

"Why the hell would I become a lawyer?"

Carter shrugs, dropping his gaze to the countertop. "You had your reasons."

"Well, what kinda hot shot job do you have to afford a night in a hotel suite like this?"

"I'm in real estate, but that alone wasn't enough to cover this place. Luckily, you were still working when we bought it, so the financial dent wasn't too hard to recover from."

"Bought it?" I gesture to the blatant signs of wealth around us. "I can barely afford food at The Pink Whale, and that's after using Mark's discount."

Carter tries hiding it, but I catch him flinch at Mark's name. It answers a different question I was on the fence about asking — they still haven't made up. My heart sinks, but I can't say I'm surprised.

Note to self: keep Mark talk to a minimum.

"So, what, this is some kind of apartment?" I ask before things get any more tense. "I didn't even know apartments could have two floors. Seems like a lot to spend on a place for... roommates."

Memories of our hook up flood back against my will, making it hard to keep my eyes from roaming his bare chest. I don't know many platonic roommates that share a bed, but the last thing I'm gonna do is assume anything.

Carter studies me, then places his mug down and turns in his chair so we're facing each other. Instinctively, I cross my arms over my chest. The conversation is slowly becoming more intimate, and the look he's giving me only makes it worse.

"You're right, it was a lot to renovate this duplex, but we both agreed it was worth it once the contractors were finished. It didn't hurt that I had good connections through work. As for the roommates thing, we're a little more than that, Amber."

I've put off the big question long enough. Steeling my nerves, I rip the band aid off. "Look, are we...Carter, are we dating or something?"

My stomach feels sick the second it's out there. Even with all signs pointing to that conclusion, an irrational part of me is scared he'll laugh at me for suggesting it. Instead, Carter finishes the last of his coffee, then takes my untouched one and moves them both to the sink. When he comes back, he pulls his barstool closer to mine and rests his hands on my thighs.

"Remember. Not messing with you."

I'm too stunned by his touch to do more than just nod.

"Two months from now is our wedding anniversary. We'll be married five years in May."

If Carter weren't holding me, I'd fall off the damn stool. I thought I braced myself for whatever answer he could give me, but never once did my mind jump to that. The room starts to spin as the words echo in my ears, reminding me that I need to breathe. My lungs, however, have completely checked out.

Just thinking the word marriage makes my skin crawl; becoming a wife was never in my plans growing up. I remember watching my parents as a kid and all the ways they avoided each other. Whether it was walking the long way around the dinner table, or occupying rooms on different sides of the house. At night, they'd take turns using the stairs so there was no risk of touching on the way up. I'm surprised they even share a bed.

Their conversations were always brief and focused mostly on the state of Ben and my grades. Arguments were seldom; even that required too much effort for them. My parents have always seemed unhappy to me, and somewhere along the way, I connected that to marriage as a whole. There was only one person that ever made me second guess that opinion.

But of course, Carter abandoned me, so the change of heart didn't last.

I know I should say something, but thinking about my parents brings someone else to the forefront of my mind. My chest fills with hope at the thought of talking to him; he always knows the right thing to say without even trying.

"Could I call someone?" I blurt, taking Carter by surprise.

He doesn't look happy that I'm changing the subject, but must figure it's better than me bolting out of the apartment. Still, he's hesitant. "Who?"

"Does Ben have a phone?" My brother wasn't old enough for his own cell phone yesterday, but today is a whole different story. Today, anything's possible.

Carter looks relieved and gives me a soft smile. "Yeah, he does."

Picking up the weird phone from the counter, he dials out a number, then hands it over. I'm barely breathing when it starts to ring. If Ben's number is disconnected too, I'll puke again, no doubt.

"Hello?" A deep voice answers on the fourth ring.

Glancing at Carter, I mouth to ask if he's sure he dialed right. He nods with a touch of humor in his eyes.

"Ben?" I ask tentatively.

"Amber? Since when do you know what six in the morning looks like?" I can hear shuffling noises coming from his end, as if he's rushing around a room. The distant sound of a waffle machine beeping indicates it's probably a kitchen.

"I could ask you the same question," I point out, looking back at the oven clock. Time is moving at a snail's pace; it feels like I've been sitting in this kitchen for hours, but it's only been about twenty minutes.

"You know I work early shifts. Those fires won't put themselves out," he says, playing up the dramatics.

"Right. Yeah, sorry." I'm tongue tied. It's hard to reconcile the voice on the phone with my brother's prepubescent one. But under the deep tone, I can hear the Ben I know in the way he says certain words. It makes me more emotional than I was expecting. It's only been a few hours since my version of yesterday, but I miss him already.

Carter must tell I need a moment because he gestures towards the living room, excusing himself. I nod to show I understand, then turn my attention back to the phone, thankful for the privacy.

"Is everything okay, though? You're catching me on the way out, but I can be a little late if it's important." All the sound in the background cuts out like he's stopped everything he was doing.

Now I kinda wish I didn't call. Hearing Ben's voice does wonders for me comfort-wise, but I'm not sure how much help he can be in this situation. I don't want to worry him with something that might resolve itself in a day or two, and I don't have answers to the questions he's bound to ask anyway.

"No, everything's fine. Just missed you, I guess," I resolve, squeezing the phone tight. "But I'm the worst sister ever. I totally forgot how old you're turning this year." If it really is March, then his birthday must be soon. It comes pretty early in the month.

"Trying to get me one of those numbered cards again?" he asks with a laugh. "I hate to break it to you, but they stop making those after sweet sixteen. Good luck trying to find one for a twenty-four-year-old."

Twenty-four. I accepted the time jump theory for Carter's sake, just to make the conversation easier, but Ben has no reason to lie to me. I try to imagine Ben as an adult with responsibilities like an early morning job, but I can't picture it. All that comes to mind is the playful boy I've known my whole life.

"I refuse to give up the search. Where there's a way, there's a will." I try at a joking tone, but I'm not sure it comes across.

"I think you got that one a little confused there, Commander. And I'd start your search soon, considering you have a little over a week until the big day."

His use of our old nicknames helps this all feel a little more normal and gets a smile out of me. "I'll get to it then, Captain."

"I gotta go, Am, but I'll call you later."

"Ok, Ben. Love you."

"Love you too. Tell Carter and Brynn I say hi."

He hangs up before I can ask the obvious — who the hell is Brynn?

The question is on the tip of my tongue when Carter comes back downstairs, now wearing a shirt. Placing the phone back on the counter, I'm ready to ask before I notice what he's holding. Pinched between his fingers is a ring, and when he hands it to me, it drives everything else from my mind.

"We take them off at night," Carter explains, flashing his own. "I, uh, got the measurements wrong when I had them made, but they're engraved so fixing it is complicated. It's easier to sleep without them cutting off our circulation."

I barely register that he's talking — I'm too busy gaping at the ring. It's double banded with small diamonds encrusted along the length. Connecting the bands is a large, teardrop-cut sapphire, a unique choice that gives the piece character. The silver feels delicate as I turn it in my hands, and even without asking, I know this is the most expensive thing I've ever held.

Carter takes the ring back from me and holds out his hand. Slowly, I give him mine and let him work it up my finger. He wasn't kidding about it being too small; the metal pinches my skin before settling firmly into place. I let my hand linger and tilt it back and forth, trying to decide how I feel wearing it. A big part of me is freaked out; everything it symbolizes is everything I've been against for years.

But a teenie, tiny part of me likes the way our rings look next to each other. Carter's is a darker grey and much simpler, but they contrast nicely, something I used to think applied to us. Where I've always been loud and all over the place, Carter has always been more relaxed and calm. Together, we balanced each other out. There were times when we were kids where he talked me down from my crazier ideas, and I returned the favor by pushing him out of his comfort zone. I single handedly taught Carter how to swim, something I'm sure saved him a lot of embarrassment at pool parties.

He runs his thumb over my hand, stopping to circle each knuckle before resting on my ring. His touch spreads goosebumps along my arms, and I'm grateful my sweatshirt covers them. It's clear he wants to fix whatever is going on, and by the way he keeps glancing at the ring, I assume this was his first try.

"Anything?" he asks hopefully.

As much as I want to say this was enough, I can't. I could see this ring in a random store and it'd be as familiar as it is now. "No. I don't think material things can bring back ten years of memories."

Sighing, he moves to take the ring back. "Well, it was worth a shot."

"Actually, could I keep it?" I ask before thinking better of it. I cringe. "Just in case. Maybe with time, something will come back?"

"Yeah, of course." Carter does a terrible job of hiding that he's pleased. His face always gives him away.

Blushing, I divert the attention back to the ring. "Umm, what does the engraving say? I forgot to look."

"More than all the stars in the sky," he answers softly. When I look up, I find him smiling for the first time all morning. "It's what we say to describe how much we love each other."

Carter's smile grows when my jaw drops. He reaches over and caresses my cheek, sending my racing heart into overdrive. I lean into it without meaning to, the gesture too comforting to turn away. Despite my natural instincts, I feel myself relax.

This is the Carter I remember from my window. On bad nights with Mom that made me question if I was loved, he would whisper words of assurance that lulled me to sleep. For those two years I had him in my life, Carter was my escape from home. I always hoped to see that side of him again, and now, glimmers are shining through. Ironically, it makes me want to forget our past, even if just for a moment.

Carter leans in hesitantly, waiting to see how I'll react. When I don't pull away, his fingers travel to the back of my neck, his palm caressing my jaw. He draws me closer until our mouths are inches apart, and my spine tingles at the thought of kissing him again. My eyes flutter as he tilts my chin up, but movement over his shoulder catches my attention.

Then, my stomach falls out my asshole.

Scooting down the stairs one at a time is a child, no older than three. She's wearing a bright pink nightgown covered in sparkles, and a tattered stuffed tiger is tucked under her armpit. Once at the bottom, she stops to rub the sleep from her eyes before looking directly at me.

My body goes cold. I stumble back from the island and push Carter away. All I see are her features: the mess of curls that frames her chubby cheeks, a nose reminiscent of my own. But the nail that drives it home is her eyes: a deep, golden hazel I've known all my life. I don't have to ask. I know before she opens her mouth.

"Mama?"

Carter pales, his head whipping around to the stairs. "Brynn."

"Mama," she squeals again. When she tottles to her feet, I take a purposeful step back. There's a good twenty feet between me and the stairs, but I take another step for good measure.

My vision blurs as Carter rushes over to the girl, trying to usher her back upstairs. She fights him immediately, kicking and screaming to get down the stairs — to get to me.

"Mama!"

Her screams echo off the high ceiling, disorienting me and making the black come on stronger. I try to grip the counter, but it slips through my hands just as my knees give out. Then, it all happens in slow motion. Carter notices me too late, and with the girl weighing him down, he'll never reach the kitchen in time.

"Mama!"

"Mama!"

"Mama!"

Our daughter's voice is all I hear before I hit the floor and everything goes blank.