I sleep like a baby all curled up in Carter’s guest room, and I use all available covers to wrap myself up. I’m a little sad Carter doesn’t surprise me with a morning cuddle session.

I drag myself out of bed and to the kitchen, awaking to the smell of bacon and eggs.

Carter has his ‘kiss the cook' apron on, but he’s got basketball shorts and a T-shirt underneath it this time.

Unfortunately.

I pour myself some freshly brewed coffee, watching him from behind as he operates the spatula. He holds his phone in the other with headphones draped down, and I eavesdrop as he speaks with someone.

“Andrea. You know I love you, but I’m going to fight you on this one. Chandler and I are coming forward with this story...I don’t care if it’s not the perfect time...We’re done living in the dark...it feels like we’re hiding something from the world...don’t worry about it, it’s personal…yes...run it...also who the hell is this Ronald Favaloni?...you know, the one running these sensationalist stories about me and Chandler hating each other on the court...I never heard of him either but the story is going viral...yes, I’ve been working out with my left hand and I should be clear to get back on the court soon…”

Taking the bacon off the stove, he sees me for the first time.

I’ve just got a silly smile on my face, watching him in his element.

“Hey Diggs, I have to go...Yes take care...tell Jake I say hi…”

He hangs up.

“Good morning,” I sing.

“Morning yourself,” he says in a low voice. Stepping toward me, he kisses me on the lips.

“Mm. You taste like coffee.”

“You’re good,” I wink, licking my lips and raising up my coffee cup. “No idea how you guessed that.”

“My, my. Lacy is sassy before her caffeine hits. Noted.”

“Who was that on the phone?”

“My publicist, Andrea Diggers.”

“I think I might have met her at the yacht party last summer. Was she with Jake Napleton?”

“Yeah, Jake’s her husband. He’s a cool guy, too. They’re both good friends of Amy’s.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that. So why were you calling her? You sounded stressed.”

“I am stressed. Among other things, a series of media outlets are running a coordinated story pitting Chandler and I against each other for the top spot on the team. And it’s so not true. When we’re on the court together it’s like Michael Jordan and Scottie Pippen. We’re the perfect combination.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh? Well who’s Jordan and who’s Pippen?”

“I’m Jordan,” Carter winks. “But don’t tell Chandler that.”

With the spatula, he pulls off a few more piece of bacon, putting them next to two plates of scrambled eggs and hash browns. He grabs knives and forks, and we sit down at the kitchen island to eat.

“So that’s what she was advising you not to do? Find out who the author of the article is?”

“No. She advised Chandler and I not to ‘come out’ as brothers. She says it will distract from the team dynamic.”

“What do you think?”

“I think our dad is a fuckhead, compulsive liar who has a double digit quantity of kids running around because he can’t keep his dick in his pants. I don’t care who knows.”

I laugh, but Carter doesn’t.

“I don’t see what’s funny about that.”

“That’s kind of your same reputation.”

“Don’t ever compare me to my father. Ever. I’m dead fucking serious.”

An awkward silence falls over us, forks clinking on plates.

“Sorry,” I finally say.

Carter takes a deep breath. “Anyhow, I’m not about to let this mansion-living dipshit gain actual power.”

“Is he actually ahead in the polls for the primaries? Like, could he actually get a spot on the ticket?”

“Yes, he could. It’s crazy, right? We’re running the story, though, final decision.”

Carter’s forearm grazes mine as he goes to fork a piece of bacon, and it sends an unexpected rush of warmth through my body, all over.

“Thanks to you,” he adds.

“Thanks to me?”

“Yeah. When you walked back into my life last summer, I felt inspired to come to terms with my past. And then I did that ancestry test which started this whole adventure.”

I feel a knot in my throat. “You’re welcome,” I smile faintly.

Pulling out his iPad, he turns the speakers on and puts a song on. It’s an acoustic instrumental of the Game of Thrones theme song.

“I found this online last night. Doesn’t it sound cool? Maybe it can be our song,” Carter says, running his hand on my back.

I turn my head toward the outside window, away from Carter, unsure why these emotions are hitting me so early in the morning.

Who knew that Carter turning me down for sex, making breakfast, and thanking me could launch me into a tizzy.

I wipe a tear away and spin back around, smiling.

Putting the fork down, he grabs a piece of bacon, and stares at me as he puts it in his mouth.

“I know you’re sad we didn’t have sex last night. That’s why I made bacon. Some say it’s better than sex.”

I roll my eyes. “Sex with you is much better than bacon,” I blurt out, and then press my lips together.

“Dammit. I hate adding to your already giant ego,” I add.

Carter takes a big bite. “Maybe we shouldn’t compare these things. Maybe lets just say bacon and sex are proof God loves us.”

“I thought that was beer.”

“Yes. Beer, too.”

A warm feeling comes over me as Carter and I sit next to each other, finishing breakfast. I’m comfortable and excited at once.

Everything I felt--feel--missing with Josh.