c a r t i e r

Crashing through the deck two nights ago has left me sore in places I didn't know even existed.

I've been on a constant concoction of Advil and Tylenol and even been praying to the God above that I won't need stitches for one of the deep gashes. Thankfully, band-aids seem to be working along with Neosporin.

My shin looks as if it went through a meat grinder so thank goodness I don't have to worry about trying to impress anyone.

The only other person here is Noah and he's kept his distance the last few days and has also been eerily quiet.

Dressed in a pair of copper-orange flutter shorts and a linen cream blouse I relax on the sofa getting close to finishing the novel.

The summer heat has yet made it's way inside, however I know tonight I'll be melting in my bed when the heat of the day seeps inside. So for now, I relish the cool air this house seems to keep like a cave and keep off my leg and continue to read.

My ears train to the sound of the backdoor opening and my eyes shoot up from the second to last page of my book.

"Ms. Davenport! I'm going out to order the thatch reeds, I need money!"

I fold the page and stand from the sofa careful to not bump my semi-sore leg then scoot around the furniture and enter the kitchen as Noah is digging through my fridge.

Oh...

My...

Jesus...

He's shirtless, why is he not wearing a shirt?

Noah throws the fridge door shut, his muscles flexed and taunt and shining with sweat and turns gracing my eyes with the most beautiful body I've ever seen.

He is long and his muscles cut. My eyes dance around everywhere from his pecks to his veined arms, to his abs, to his broad shoulders, then down to the 'V' almost in full view from his track pants hanging so, so low.

Noah's chuckle breaks the spell I'm under and I fill with embarrassment I cloak with agitation, "W-what do you need?" I turn and start picking up and moving random objects from the counter only to put them down a few inches where I got it.

He gulps down the water behind me then speaks, "Money."

Right, money.

I twist around and cross the kitchen reaching the junk drawer where my checkbook sits, "My checks are in here, you can use them, I'll sign a few so you can take them as you need. I just need a receipt-."

"Erm, bad idea. I'll come to you every time I need to order something and you can write out the check one at a time."

I close the drawer with my hip and turn to face him with my checkbook and pen in my hands, "It'll be easier for you to come in take a check, and go."

Noah takes another drink from the water bottle and wipes his wet lips with his forearm, "No, that'll get messy because I'll use them up quickly then you'll question what I'm buying. We do it one at a time-- to keep you updated on what I'm doing."

I suppose he is probably right. And that way I'll be sure he's buying items that are needed and not crap like beer or something.

"Fine," I say clenching my jaw and tear a check from the book stealing a glance of his abs as he gulps the water again.

He is beautiful isn't he? His hair close to his scalp sticks to his skin while the longer lochs are curled back over his forehead, as one curled piece hangs over his brow. If I was twenty-something I would have swooned hard over this boy.

Any girl his age would and based on his cocky personality he probably loves it.

"I'll be gone most of the day the Thatcher I like to use is about three hours drive east. I'm also grabbing a trailer on the way back, so I'll need a second check."

I force myself to blink and nod twice, ripping a second check from the book and sign both.

Handing them both to Noah, he smiles and his eyes cast downward to my shin, "How's the leg?"

I fold it behind the other leg then shrug, "It's better." My stomach swirls with butterflies as his blue eyes trace up my legs, "Do you need anything else?" I chirp quickly when my throat goes dry. 

He smirks at my dismissal then approaches me slowly, his eyes heavy and heated. I freeze and forget to breathe, then he brushes by and opens the fridge and takes two more water bottles. He gives me a charming grin, and leaves out the back door.

I let out the breath I was holding when the door closes and fall back against the cabinet, "What is going on?" I've seen plenty of shirtless men, I don't know why I'm falling apart every time he comes around.

Actually, I know full well why. He's fucking gorgeous. 

"God, Cartier! Get it together." I demand and grab a water bottle from the fridge for myself then place it on my forehead in an attempt to cool down my internal temperature. I've seen plenty of good-looking men in my life, I don't know what makes this one so different.

He's arrogant, annoying, immature. The only thing he has going for him is his face and his body. Honestly, if he just didn't open his mouth he'd be stunning.

I reach the sofa and sit letting my head fall back to gaze at the white ceiling separated by old oak beams with the cool bottle still to my forehead. 

"How old is he anyway?" I gripe and close my eyes and cringe, hoping to God he isn't eighteen. There is no way he's that young. His face is too chiseled while his beard grows fully along his jaw, chin, and above his upper lip without any missing patches. 

My mind is already a scrambled mess, I can't deal with Noah and his shirtless glory.

I'm not sure if I'm imagining it though, sometimes when he looks at me I think he feels something too. His ocean-blue eyes deep and dark lingering on parts of me they shouldn't be. It isn't an accidental glance at my chest or my mouth, it's intentional. As if he truly doesn't care I catch him drinking me in.

I spend the rest of the day trying to talk myself out of finding Noah attractive. It doesn't take much to forget when I glance out to the back garden to see the mess he's left behind. I don't want to even consider the state of the lake house he's staying in. It was worse off, to begin with, so now with him adding to the mess, I'm sure it's a pig stye. 

Anthony was never this messy. Granted, I was happy to clean up after him because I enjoyed taking care of him. Keeping his house clean and tidy was never a chore, it was something I knew he appreciated and liked about me. Anthony felt proud; day in and day out he had a clean house to come home to with his favorites meals waiting for him. It was hard work, but I did it because I loved him and that is what I thought I should do being a stay-at-home wife. 

My mother and father passed away in my early twenties, so I never got a chance to have the in-depth conversations with my mother and learn from her how to be. So, I just did everything as perfectly as possible to be sure I didn't mess it up for him.

My parents were good people, and I miss them every second of the day. They'd be shocked to learn I'm living here in England without Anthony. My mother and father had me in England, but each of them had duel-citizenship in America and moved back to New York shortly after. We often came to England and Scotland, vacationing for long periods at a time, and I've always loved it here. Which, is why I decided to hide away here. I was always happy in England. 

They also loved Anthony. He was charming, kind, thoughtful, and took care of me from the second we started dating when I was seventeen. They were overjoyed when we married and voiced their happiness knowing that they knew I was in good hands. 

Yet here I am, alone. 

Even being perfect I still wasn't enough for Anthony.

My hands roam over my stomach over top of my blouse enticing the backs of my eyes to burn. "Well, I'm almost perfect." My voice is thick with a pending sob but I struggle and swallow past it.

I'm perfect in every way but the one that fucking matters.

My fingers fist the fabric of my blouse and I let my head fall back against the sofa, thinking of the last big fight with Anthony and how the two words he said still haunt me nearly a half a year later. 

It was the big fight where I knew if I didn't get pregnant soon, that would be it for us. He gave me a few months then delivered those divorce papers.

The two words have been killing me slowly since he said it. 

'Your useless.' He had said in the fit of a fight and quickly backtracked with 'It's useless', but the damage had been done, he said what he said. Already, I was vulnerable and crumbling with not an hour before the argument I peed on a stick and it confirmed what we both knew was negative. And hearing that from him wrecked me.  I think those two small words that most people would shrug off will always haunt me.

With my empty womb and flat stomach being a constant form of torture, the two words have ingrained themselves into my DNA. 

"I am useless," I give the words life and my fingers loosen on the material of my bunched blouse and spread across my stomach.

What would it feel like? To have life inside?

I'm not lucky enough to know.

My throat constricts and my eyes water, but I let out a long sigh of air and gain control over myself.

I am what I am, if that is useless, then those are the cards I've got to play with. I can't change it, no matter how much money I have to use.

I have more than enough money to go to a doner clinic but even when they injected Anothony's sperm directly into my eggs, nothing happened. With Anthony being my Doctor we had everything to use at our disposal and he knew all the tips and tricks, but without working parts there's not much else we could have done besides adoption. 

I was always pro-adoption and had begged Anthony through the years to adopt but he was defiant.

There will be that option for me once I'm ready.

🌻

Hours later, before bed, I stand in the bathroom removing the band-aid's from my skin using the sterile wipes to clean the cuts that have almost fused shut. 

Since earlier, I've been dazed thinking often of those two hurtful words. I know a good sleep and a new day will send those words to the back of my mind and I'll feel much better in the morning, but for now, I'm low. So fucking low.

For once, I miss the noise of Noah outside and banging around with his filthy mouth because it's a nice distraction. It would have been so nice to have today, but instead, I sulked in my own despair and silence.

My chin rests on my knee as I swipe up my leg cleaning it with the cool wipe.

Tears roll down my cheeks but I continue the task on my shin. I sniffle and ball up the used wipes and take out a handful of band-aids and begin opening them.

"EH-OH!" I jump from my spot sitting on the countertop and quickly wipe my cheeks as Noah's footfalls become louder and closer, "I got the shite! Stopped at the pub on the way back -- just letting you know!" He calls loudly, then stops in front of the bathroom and turns from his gaze at the stairs looking surprised to see me, "Oh, you're up still."

He's dressed in the track pants from earlier, but at least now he's wearing a black t-shirt. "I've parked the trailer in the back, tomorrow I'll load all the shite and old thatch into it and get it disposed of--." Noah's eyes narrow and he steps into the doorway of the bathroom, "You...Alright?"

I drop from the countertop and grab my robe and pull it on, "I'm fine. Thanks."

Something plays behind his eyes but he simply nods, "I'm heading in for the night, then."

My lips pinch to the side as I chew my cheek and ignore the tickling in my nose from crying not two seconds before.

"Right then," He palms the wood archway twice, then turns but returns swiftly, "I forgot, your dead-rabbit-slipper-thing is on the kitchen counter. I rescued it for you."

"Oh. Um, thank you."

"No problem, 'night boss." He disappears and I fall back against the counter and rub my aching eyes. "You know," He pops up again and I drop my hand quickly from my eyes, "I'm going to have a nightcap, want to join me?"

"Huh?"

"Do you want to have a beer or," His eyes drop and he debates on something, "All I've got is beer. But you can bring whatever it is you drink."

"Oh," At this point, I'm going to cry myself to sleep with the way I feel. Noah's obnoxiousness will at least be a welcome distraction, "O-okay, I guess."

Thanks for reading!

Something big happens in the next chapter lol