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"Why 'me' of all people?"
"Because women like her always look down on women like you."
"Excuse me?" My eyes go wide. "Women like me?”
"Stop." He gives me a disapproving shake of his head and a look of warning. "You know what I mean. Don't take it out of context."
My head cocks and my eyes narrow. "Why don't you explain it to me like I'm five years old and you don't want to hurt my feelings."
"Great. Just great." He looks away.
"I'm serious."
"Okay; you're unpretentious. You're practical. You aren't into the manicured nails and the fancy hair."
"Oh, really. And that makes Marisol what, exactly?"
"I don't know ... glamorous. Extra. Designer. High maintenance."
"Okay, then." I turn away from him and take a very long drink.
He looks at me with a blank stare. "So, what is the problem? It was a compliment."
"I suppose you would think that telling me I'm not glamorous is a compliment. You need to work on those wooing skills, Carter. They're a bit below par."
He plops his feet up on the rail. "I do NOT understand females."
"You got that right."
"First Mom. Now you. Is it so much to ask for an easy vacation? That people and things can stay the way they're supposed to be and be appreciated as such?"
"No, it isn't too much to ask but, sometimes, plans change ... and sometimes change is better."
"Okay. Enlighten me; let's go to the subject of Marisol."
"Okay. Go."
"I get gut feelings about people and, the one I get from her, isn't good. She's not our kind of people. She's arrogant, high falutin', and patronizing. She's snobby, cocky, and seems a bit bossy. She's?—"
"Stop. I get it."
"So, tell me, how could a week with a woman who defines the word 'bitch' be a change for the better."
My brows quirk. "Declan is right; you are judgy."
"It wasn't hard." His forehead wrinkles. "She walked in here like she was the fucking queen."
"But you have no idea who she is, or what her culture is like ... You know nothing about her."
He looks away. "Pfft. I know enough."
"Now who's being the snob?" I huff.
His jaw clenches as he stares out into the pitch. I take a deep breath as I rein in my frustration. Maybe my nerves are raw because it's been a hell of a long day. The drive was around seven hours in total. Packing up ourselves and then Rose ... it made for a long trip. The unexpected Marisol, and Rose crying. I'm tired. I don't get frazzled like Carter and even I'm feeling the strain. Now this … But he loves me.
I let go of the tension and let the serene sound of soft waves take me to a place of simplicity. Carter's protective and annoyingly orderly. Sometimes it's suffocating but, it also can feel comforting to have someone else in control.
"I get it. You’re worried about upsetting the family dynamic. But Marisol isn't the enemy here. She’s just different." My words are soft and gentle to get through the defenses I'm sure he's put up.
