Page 147 of Stranger to Love

So much for my grand plan of sticking to a timetable and giving us space. I was not trying to navigate this minefield over a phone call. My phone buzzed almost instantly.

Carrie: Of course you can, my darling. Would you like to meet me in the car park after I finish for the day, or will you be heading home first?

Just the thought of seeing her settled the static in my brain.

Alex: The car park, if you’re still happy to chauffeur me around, Dr. Carter?

Carrie: I am very happy to drive you around, princess.

There went my stomach, dropping into free-fall.

Carrie: Out of curiosity, do you have a driving licence?

I chuckled, completely caught off guard.

Alex: I do. Are you looking to take advantage of my qualifications?

Carrie: Hmm, no.

Alex: So, what are you thinking?

Carrie: I have an idea, but you’ll have to wait to find out.

Ah. A "Carrie idea." Those were usually expensive, exhilarating, and slightly terrifying. It was enough to distract me from the Billie-shaped cloud hanging over my head—at least for now. I took one last look at the empty booth across from me and decided that whatever Carrie had planned, I was going to need to be at the top of my game to handle it.

The drive to Carrie’s house was quiet—the comfortable, low-frequency hum that followed a long day. She pulled into the drive, the gates sliding open with mechanical grace. She parked in the cavernous garage and, as always, rounded the car to open my door.

“Thank you,” I smiled, my fingers trailing down the collar of her blazer as I brushed past. She rolled her eyes fondly, grabbing her bag and coat from the backseat.

I had grown to love the effortless rhythm of this. She hung her coat in the hallway cupboard, and I handed her mine. My heart suddenly jolted. The cupboard was less crowded; my jacket was hanging on its own dedicated hanger. Next to her boots, there was a perfectly clear space left for my trainers.

She was making a permanent place for me, piece by piece.

The sweetness was immediately soured by the reminder of why I was here. My expression must have shifted, because Carrie was suddenly in my space, combing her fingers through my hair. “Are you okay, darling?”

“Yeah.” I nodded, forcing a smile. I would be, once the Billie-shaped secret was not gnawing a hole in my gut.

She raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, but she just cupped my cheek and leaned in for a brief, tender peck. “Come on,” she murmured.

I followed her into the kitchen and nearly froze. Richard was sitting at the dining table. I had totally forgotten about him. He looked just as surprised to see me, his face quickly shifting into a neutral mask. There was no way in hell I was confessing anything while he was sitting there like a vulture.

Carrie sensed my rigidity. Her gaze darted to Richard with a sharp, suspicious intensity. Before she could launch into whatever defence she was calculating, I found my voice.

“I, um... actually, Carrie, I was hoping to talk to you. About something private.”

Her face softened instantly. She didn't even look back at her brother.

“Richard,” she said, her voice like a cold blade. “Leave.”

Richard sighed, scooping up his empty plate. He sidestepped Carrie to slide it into the dishwasher, grabbing his drink to trek out of the room.

Carrie rolled her eyes. "Only employed people get to sigh like that, Richard."

I chewed on the inside of my cheek to stifle a laugh. Siblings will be siblings, but their dynamic was a special kind of brutal. Richard finally sauntered off, and Carrie followed him just far enough to close the kitchen door and slide the bolt home.

She turned back to me, her hand gliding up my back. “Are you okay talking in here, or would you prefer somewhere else, darling?"

I took a shaky breath. "Here is fine. Thanks."