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“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Come here.”
He pulls me into his arms and I nestle my head against his chest, luxuriating in the feel of his hands stroking down my back, and his lips against the top of my head. We pull away from one another after a minute or two, and I convince Carter to let me help him with the rest of dinner. In addition to the ragu, he made fresh pasta dough, and I help him roll it out with the machine and cut it into wide strips.
“How’d you get into cooking?” I ask, watching as he chops up vegetables for the salad with chef-like precision and skill.
“During the first year of my PhD, all I did was work. And for a long time, birding and hiking were my only two hobbies. But when I ended that first year burnt out and depressed, I realized I needed to find something new,” he says. “I needed something in my life that wasn’t related to work. I always liked cooking shows as a kid, so I tried this. I like it because sometimes at the end of a day doing research, I often have nothing to show for it, at least not anything big. But with cooking, there’s an end product within a few hours. And it makes other people happy.”
I study the man in front of me, and consider how strong and self-aware he is. He knows himself far better than most people do, and he’s strong. Solid.
“That makes sense,” I say. “I guess that’s similar to why I like art. It’s nice to make something beautiful when I spend a lot of time at work around illness.”
Carter finishes the salad and I set the table in the breakfast nook, opening the doors to the patio and letting in some air. Carter places a full plate of ragu and pasta in front of me, and one bite has me moaning.
“This is so fucking good. If I wasn’t already in love with you, this would convince me.”
“Glad to hear it,” he says, smirking.
After we eat, I lay down on the couch and cradle my food baby, and Carter sits on the floor next to me, stroking my leg with his hand.
I realize that for the entire day he’s been taking care of me: rushing to the hospital to make sure I was okay, seeing to my every need, making dinner for me. And it’s been wonderful, but Carter deserves some care as well, especially since he had a big meeting with his supervisor today.
“How was your meeting today?” I ask. “Does Judith think you’re ready to submit?”
“Yeah, she does, actually. I think I’ll be done really soon, and I’ll make the summer submission deadline.”
“That means a fall graduation, right? I better start planning your party.” I don’t know if Carter’s the party type, but even if he isn’t, I know Jamie, Hunter, and Cat will want to celebrate with him, and so will my moms. And even if Carter and his family aren’t that close, I’m sure they’ll make the effort for something as big as his PhD.
“As long as it includes a keg of beer and is at the beach, I’m good,” he says.
“Do you know what you’ll be doing after school is finished?” I ask, because it occurs to me that we’ve never talked about it. I assume that Carter wants to be an academic, but I’m not really sure.
Carter’s hand stills against my leg and he’s quiet for a moment.
“I’m not actually sure,” he says. “I have an interview next week for a teaching position at the university.”
“That’s amazing!”
“Yeah, it would be perfect for me,” he says, but something sounds off about his voice.
I sit up and climb off the couch and onto the floor in front of him so that I can see his face. And just as I suspected, his facesays it all—at least to me. To anyone else, he’d appear composed, but I know all his tells.
“What’s wrong? Please tell me,” I ask.
“I got a job,” he says, but the way he says it sounds like it’s a death sentence. He rubs his forehead with his hands and then scrubs them over his face. “A really good one, too. Working as a postdoctoral research assistant on a project focused on the conservation of seabirds. I interviewed for it a month ago, before everything with us happened.”
I nod, understanding that he wants me to know that he didn’t tell me about it because it happened before there was an us.
“A job is good,” I tell him. “And that sounds like something you’d love doing.”
“It is. But it’s in Iceland.”
Fear lances through my heart, chilling me right down to my bones. Iceland is halfway across the world. Iceland might as wellbeanother world. Suddenly, I’m back there, back when he wouldn’t take my calls or answer my texts, back when I was desperate to hear from him but he was too busy chasing this dream of his to make time for me. And in hindsight, Igetit because we were so young, but if he did the same thing again, I don’t think I’d survive it.
“I’m not taking it, Angel. I already decided that I didn’t want it before I got it.”
“It sounds like the perfect job for you, though,” I say, because it does. I saw how deeply he loves being out in nature studying birds and wildlife while we were on Isle North. I saw how he came alive when we were on the water with Archie. It’s where he belongs.
