The Carrero Heart - Beginning (Friends to Lovers)

“I know he does... He told me he does... But I don’t know if he’s still in love with me. I think there’s maybe someone else.” She glances my way again, and the trusting ache reflected in those pleading eyes tells me she truly does not look at me and see a threat. She has no idea he could look at me that way, and it only kills me more. Throat dries up, my body gets clammy and my skin cools as all my blood drains from me. I stammer, clear my throat to get a grip on my voice and then take a deep breath.

“Have you asked him?” I force out, gulping hard, trying to evade this conversation, yet caught in it with no chance of escape. She shakes her head sadly.

“I’m too terrified that the answer might be yes. And then what will I do? I’ll die without him.” She sobs some more, and I start willing like crazy for him to come and save me from this conversation. I have no idea what to say or how to act. It’s like she has pinned me into a corner where every answer could potentially open the trapdoor beneath my feet, with just one wrong word.

“Maybe you two are just not really happy together...Or working as well as you think?” I’m trying so hard to be diplomatic, look for a way out of this, but now I’m standing in my bra I have no way of escape. I can hardly walk out there like this, while she’s here. She would wonder how many times he’s seen me in my underwear for a start, question the innocence in that. If I stay in here, she’ll keep on with this excruciating conversation, and I’m getting anxious, sweating buckets, and breathing shallowly to the point I may actually have a panic attack.

“We were happy … I mean, maybe he wasn’t ready for me to move in, and he avoids the marriage and kids talk like the plague, but we were happy and content. I don’t understand what changed.” She pulls my dress out of the sink absentmindedly and wrings it out, inspecting it for any traces of red wine and regards it blankly for a moment. “I don’t know what to do...Tell me what to do.” She turns to me with makeup running down her face, tears streaming uncontrollably, and I open my mouth and falter. Nothing comes out, nothing but breathless panic and awkward guilt. Stomach turns over as the knots and lurching begin, grasping at air to find something to say.

there’s a knock on the outer bedroom

doorway in full view. His eyes stop on me, startled for a second as he takes in the extremely skimpy and maybe a little see-through attire, as I grab for a towel and use it to shield what he has already seen. Natasha makes a panicked attempt at fixing the mess on her face and dumps my dress back in the

a minute.” She cries out in alarm and goes to shut

a half smile on my face and cheeks flushed as though to say ‘sorry, I need clothes’. Edging out to try to escape, but she catches my wrist and pulls

makeup and real pain pouring down her streaky cheeks. I nod my head, frowning as I do so and slide out as quickly as I can, without losing the towel in the process. I snatch my dress from him without looking his way, not caring that the back of me is still in full view and more than aware that his eyes follow me out the door. I hightail it out and pull on the dress over my head as I hurry through the lounge towards my own room, throwing the towel aside, unaware he’s close on my

a mental picture he can’t shake, and I have no more will power left in me for any of this, anymore. I’m tired and all messed up from being cornered by a tearful, broken woman, and I just stare back at

should go see her and, I don’t know...... Do whatever you do to make her feel better.” I say it bitterly, but I mean it. Natasha’s unannounced invasion into the bathroom has my head all