Page 183 of Stranger to Love

A small, shaky breath escaped her, and the tension finally left her shoulders. "You’re very good for my ego, Alex. And very bad for my productivity."

"That's the plan," I smirked, kissing the tip of her nose.

Carrie stayed silent for a moment, chewing on the inside of her cheek—a telltale sign that her mind was still racing, cataloging every possible way this could fucking go wrong. I softened, shifting closer until there was no air left between us.

"What else is on your mind?" I murmured, brushing my thumb over her jaw to stop the nervous habit.

Carrie shook her head, a small, breathless sound escaping her. "Nothing. It’s just... I love you so much, Alex. And I’ve spent my whole life watching things fall apart. I don't want to mess this up."

I leaned in and kissed her, a slow, lingering press of my lips against hers that tasted like pasta bake and promise. When I pulled back, I kept my voice a gentle anchor. "You can’t mess this up, Carrie. Do you know why? Because every single time I tell you what I need, you actually listen. You never push me too hard, and you never try to control me in a way I don’t want to be controlled."

I ran my hand down her arm, grounding her. "I want this. I want the house, the quiet mornings, the insane shopping sprees, and the seven o'clock rule. But above all else, I just want you. That’s the only part that isn't negotiable."

Carrie’s eyes shimmered, and for a second, she looked like she might let another tear fall. But then, true to form, she tried to shield herself with a layer of wit. She let out a shaky laugh and tried to pull back into a more composed posture.

"Careful, darling," she said, her voice regaining a hint of her playful silkiness. "You sound like you're talking about forever."

She arched an eyebrow, the joke hanging in the air as a safety net, but she didn't pull her hand out of mine.

My stomach did fucking twists. I’d told her I loved her countless times by then. I had never been in love and all I knew was I didn't want anyone else. I wanted her. I wanted Caroline Carter. And if I was honest with myself—and her—then yeah, I did want her forever.

"Maybe I am," I countered, my voice steady and unblinking. "Is that a problem for you, Caroline?"

Carrie went quiet, her breath hitching at the use of her full name. She didn't make another joke. Instead, she just pulled the duvet higher around us, her eyes fixed on mine with a fierce, terrifying hope.

"No," she whispered, her thumb tracing the line of my palm. "No, it isn't a problem at all.”

Forever? Forever with Caroline Carter, what would that look like? My mind reeled and I realised I was smiling. So I decided to test the waters and hopefully ease Carrie a little.

"So," I started, tracing a pattern on her bare shoulder, "since I’m clearly the more masculine one in this relationship, does that mean I’m expected to be the one to eventually drop to one knee? Should I start looking at ring sizes, or...?"

Carrie scoffed, the sound vibrating through her chest as she pulled me closer. "You’re adorable if you truly believe that’s how this works, Alex."

I mocked a dramatic gasp, pulling back just enough to look her in the eye. "Are you implying I’m not masculine? I’ll have you know I carried two bags of groceries in one go yesterday. I’m a titan of strength."

Carrie smirked, her gaze raking over me with a look that was equal parts heat and amusement. "You are very brave, darling, and your strength is noted. But you are also my princess. What on earth makes you think anyone but me will be doing the proposing? I have a very specific vision for how I’m going to claim you, and it doesn't involve you beating me to the punch."

I rolled my eyes, though my heart was doing a little victory lap. "Fine. You can have the proposal. But I get to choose the puppy we’re getting."

Carrie’s smile faltered, replaced by a genuine groan as she buried her face in the crook of my neck. "Absolutely not. We are not getting a dog, Alex. My rugs cost more than a year of your tuition, and I refuse to have them sacrificed to some hyperactive puppy with zero impulse control."

"Yes, we are," I insisted, my voice slipping into that bratty, defiant tone that always got her attention. "I’ve already looked at shelters. I want a big, goofy one."

Carrie shifted, her expression hardening as she slipped back into that effortless dominant mode. She hovered over me, her gaze pinning me to the sofa cushions. "Alex. You will do as you’re told. No dogs. This house is a sanctuary of order, and I intend to keep it that way."

She thought she’d won. She thought the authority was going to stick. But I knew her better than that by then. I dropped my gaze, sticking my bottom lip out in the most fucking pathetic, exaggerated pout I could muster.

"But... Mommy," I whined, my voice going soft and small. "I really want a dog. I’d be so good. I’d make sure he didn't touch your rugs."

I felt Carrie’s entire body go still. The authority unraveled instantly, her composure melting like wax under a flame. She let out a long, defeated sound that was half-laugh and half-surrender, dropping her forehead against mine.

"You are a foul, manipulative little brat," she muttered, though she was already kissing the corner of my mouth. "That was completely unfair. You know I can't say no to you when you use that voice."

"So... a Labrador?" I whispered hopefully.

Carrie sighed, her fingers tangling in my hair as she gave in. "Fine. A dog. But it sleeps on your side of the bed. And if it chews my heels, you’re both moving into the garage."

I grinned, triumphant, and pulled her down for a quick, searing kiss that tasted like victory. "You're the absolute best, you know that?"