The Carrero Heart - Beginning (Friends to Lovers)

“Here, beautiful” Arrick hands me a plate of pancakes in the kitchen. I have been wrapped around him all morning after we fell asleep on the floor watching the New York rain and now I am sort of reluctant to stop holding on to him, even when he was cooking. My face planted against his back and my hands wrapped around that hard-muscular abdomen of his made it difficult for him to get on with it, but he didn’t try and remove me. He missed me too.

I have to uncoil for food though, or I may pass out. I am stuck between starvation and still nauseous but most likely from lack of nourishment. It’s late and he wants to go to the hospital as soon as we are done eating. He leans down to kiss me on the temple as he slaps my ass and sends me skipping forward to the dining table.

I missed his pancakes, and his ass slaps. Equally.

He follows me with his own plate as we settle down across the table and I can’t stop looking at him. Watching that perfect face, so overwhelmed with happiness that he’s my perfect boy still. He still loves me, wants me, kisses me. All is right with the world. Almost.

“Leila left you a dozen messages on the house machine.” Arry looks up under those annoyingly straight brows and looks unimpressed. A tiny guilty expression hits my face and I try to smile an apology coyly.

“Yeah, I sort of text her before I fell asleep and said she needed to re-plan for a shotgun wedding and then my cell died.” My cheeks warm with color and wonder if he’s changed his mind on that in the cold light of day.

her back then and tell her you weren’t drunk. She has it in her head that’s the only reason you would want to bump forward a wedding

mind?” I query shyly, holding

cheekily and I eyeroll at him. Being annoyingly vague to

“Both.”

would ever forgive us.” He slides his feet around my ankles under the table

your dad

know. I’ll find out how long before he can

to chew pancakes and even though they smell and look amazing, I have zero appetite and all I can taste is

blasé way. I wonder if his dad collapsing

don’t doubt he’s still hurting about what we lost. I don’t want to question any of this too much and he’s right. Getting married doesn’t mean we are pretending we are instantly okay. We can still work on the cracks along

plans. I want to see Giovanni, but I know he has to talk to him about everything alone. If I am there,