Hate to Date You (Dating #4) - Monica Murphy Page 0,60
like holding onto anger. It’s pointless. I love my parents, I know they believed they were doing what was best for me, and I can respect that.
To a point.
We’re quiet for the rest of the drive, and I’m relieved when Carter pulls his car up to the curb, parking it just down the block from our apartment. He turns off the car and is undoing his seatbelt when I ask him the question that’s been bugging me all night.
“Why didn’t you tell me about your new job?”
He leans back in his seat with a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. I watch him, noting the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. He’s a biter. I remember that from our one night together, and my body gets all shivery from the memories. “I didn’t think my new job warranted a conversation.”
“So you didn’t think it was necessary to tell me on the drive to my parents’ house?” I’m sort of offended, which is silly. But I figured I’d be one of the first people he’d tell that he got a job.
“We just…never got around to discussing it.” He sends me a look, one that seems to say I’m sorry, but he doesn’t actually say the words.
“I mean, I get if you wanted to keep it quiet. It’s none of my business where you work,” I start, but Carter reaches out, settling his hand on my knee. I go silent the moment he makes contact with my skin.
“I wasn’t keeping it from you because I didn’t want you to know. It’s more that I had to—process what I’m doing before I could tell anyone. Does that makes sense? Even Caroline doesn’t know yet. With this new job, it’s almost like…I feel as if I’m going backward versus forward.”
I turn toward him to find he’s already watching me. “That makes no sense.”
“I make no sense right now,” he says with a shrug, his hand still on my knee. “I think I’m having a midlife crisis.”
“You’re not even forty yet,” I tease him. “You’re still a few years away from midlife.”
“True, but since I’ve moved here, I’ve felt—restless. Unsure. For the first time since I graduated high school, I’m a man without a plan. I’ve always been driven, with big dreams. Goals. I had a five-year plan. A ten-year plan. I was going to conquer all of Southern California and be the best damn real estate agent who made the most money.”
“What happened?”
“I got burned out. People who I thought were my friends screwed me out of deals. I got into a stupid argument over money with a woman I was seeing, and since she was also one of my bosses, I quit in the middle of us yelling at each other.” He drops his head, his fingers tightening around my knee. “I don’t like admitting that to anyone.”
I don’t like hearing it. Am I jealous because he mentioned a woman he used to date?
Yes, yes I am. And that is the stupidest feeling ever.
“I thought you returned because Caroline and Alex convinced you to move back home,” I say softly.
“That was part of the reason I came back. I knew my returning here would make them happy, so I suppose that made it easier for me to leave.” He finally removes his hand, and I’m sad. I liked the possessive way he was touching me. “But I also quit because I was pissed. The moment I said those two words, I wanted to take them back. I couldn’t. I had my pride, and I didn’t want to admit to her I made a mistake. My plan was thrown out the window, and I’ve been feeling kind of…lost.”
“I’ve never really had a plan,” I admit, my voice soft. “Sometimes I feel as if everything’s already been done for me.”
“We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” He turns his head in my direction, our gazes meeting. “Both of us just wandering through life.”
“Do you really believe that’s what you’re doing, though? You’re employed now. At one of the best real estate agencies in the area.” I offer up my hand for a high five. “Congrats.”
He reaches out, lightly slapping his hand against mine, grabbing hold of it before I can drop my arm. “Thanks, Stel.”
My breath lodges in my throat when he laces his fingers through mine. I watch as his thumb lightly traces a path across the top of my hand, a shiver