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.
I sigh with complete relief when there’s a knock on the outer bedroom door.
“Natasha? Sophs? Are you in here?” Arrick moves into the room warily; I wonder where the hell he has been and can see that
through the open door he’s carrying a clean dress for me. Looking down, I remember I’m seriously indecent and standing in the
open bathroom 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 sink. Arrick turns around, so he has his back to us, and fiddles
with the dress in his hand, more than a little rattled.

“I need a minute.” She cries out in alarm and goes to shut the door, with me stuck in here with her.
“He has clothes for me.” I grab at it in a panic, 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 me back sharply to meet her eyes.
“Please don’t say anything to him, don’t tell him I talked to you.” She whispers in my face, and I get a close view of mahogany
brown eyes, smudged 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 heels
until he catches my wrist and stops me at my door.
“I went to get your clothes... What did you say to her?” He looks nervous, even a little bit stressed. His eyes keep flicking up and
down me as though he has 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 him numbly.
“Nothing. She wanted to help me get the wine out. She’s crying over you. Maybe you 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 upside down and messed up about how I feel about her. I guess I feel sorry for her, and the thought of her sobbing in
the bathroom over what I am the cause of has me feeling like a completely heartless bitch. I never asked for any of this.
Arrick’s eyes fall on mine steadily, trying to read something in my face I guess, and for once he seems at a loss. At least his eyes
are back on my face and not sizing me up like he is trying to picture me back in my underwear, like a typical man. I don’t even
know what to do with that; I thought it would feel better than this.
“I’ll take her home and maybe spend some time with her. I need to talk to her properly.” He seems to wait for me to give him
permission or to raise an objection, but I have already crawled back into ‘little Sophie’ mode. Recoiling inside myself and
presenting an emotionless blank wall to the world, hiding behind with my pain and tears, and letting no one see it.
“Whatever. I’m going to have a shower and go to bed.” I answer flatly, pulling my hand out of his as I turn and walk the last few
feet into my room and shut the door in his face. My heart completely torn and for the first time, I get an inkling of why this is so
hard for him.
I got a glimpse of what he is dealing with, and I don’t even care about her. He loves her, in some way, maybe he’s still in love
with her, and I’m just a bump in the road, or a case of the grass is greener. I don’t know. All I know is that Natasha really loves

him and it’s obvious that whether I want him to or not, he cares about her a lot more than I really give him credit for.