Finally Ours (Harborview #2)

37. Carter

37

CARTER

There are three emails in my inbox.

One is an automatic email from the university confirming that I’ve submitted my dissertation.

The second is an email from the interview panel telling me that they loved meeting me yesterday and that the teaching position I applied for is mine.

So far, so good.

The third is from Judith and it simply reads, “I think this could work. We’ll figure out the details over the next few months, and you’re going to have to take the lead on this.”

“Fuck yes,” I whisper.

I’ve spent the last few days locked in my room, putting the finishing touches on my dissertation, prepping for the interview I had on Monday, and trading emails back and forth with Judith. Angela has been resting at her house, and I can tell from her texts to me that she’s slightly withdrawn, and I have a pretty good idea of why. Because even though I told her I wouldn’t take the Iceland job, I’m not sure she really believed me. She’s deeply afraid of being abandoned—and for good reason. It’s on me to reassure her that that isn’t happening again.

And I have a solution in place now that will work out, I’m sure of it. I pick up my phone to call her, but my phone rings before I can, and her name flashes across the screen.

“Hey,” I say. “I was just going to call you. Can I?—”

“Come over?” she asks, laughing. “Yeah. I was going to ask you if you wanted to. I have something to show you.”

“Is the something you spread out naked on your bed?”

“ No. It’s nothing like that, you perv.”

“Can’t blame a man for dreaming.”

“Just get over here,” she says, sounding genuinely excited, and piquing my interest.

I quickly shower, shave, and change out of the sweatpants I’ve been living in for the last few days. I put on a flannel and beaten-up jeans, because I’ve gathered that this is the look Angela likes me in best—mountain man as she says.

The anticipation of seeing her has my hands shaking against the wheel as I drive, and when I ring her doorbell, I have to remind myself to breathe. When she opens the door, my heart nearly stops in my chest because she looks so damn beautiful. Her hair is piled on top of her head, a few curls loose around her face, and she’s wearing an oversized white shirt that sets off her glowing skin. Here and there her shirt is dotted with dried paint, which makes me smile.

I pull her towards me and kiss her on the forehead. We stand there in the foyer for a moment, the sunlight streaming into the windows and a gentle breeze coming in through the open door. It’s a perfect, quiet moment, and I hope to have a million more like it with this woman.

“Come on, I can’t wait any longer,” Angela says.

She pulls me towards the back of the house, and into a room I’ve never been in before. It’s small, but has two big windows, and enough room for the wooden easel in the corner and a few shelves that are stacked with paper and art supplies. On one of the walls, she’s hung up a few charcoal sketches of the ocean.

“You set up a studio,” I say. “This is great. You’ll be able to get so much done in here.”

“I’m really excited about having this space,” she says. “But this isn’t the only thing I wanted to show you.” She bends down and picks up a square canvas that is propped up by the cabinet. She turns it around and places it on the easel.

It’s a picture of me, from when we were on the boat with Archie. My smiling face takes up exactly half the painting, and the other half is filled with blue ocean and sky. Angela’s style isn’t photo-realistic, and is closer to impressionism. She’s used shorter, broken up brush strokes to capture the ocean, and when I move closer, I see that the paint is thick and textured.

“I love it,” I tell her. “Especially how you did the water.”

“Thanks,” she says. “That technique is called impasto. It’s actually still drying because the paint is so thick. But you can take it home as soon as it’s cured.”

“How long did it take?”

“A few days,” she says. “Which is why I’ve been so bad at answering texts. I’ve been painting nonstop, and thinking a lot the entire time.”

“About what?” I ask, my heart hammering. I know it can’t be that bad, because I don’t think that she’d paint my portrait and give it to me as a present if she was breaking up with me.

She looks away from me and at the painting for a moment, studying it like it holds the answer to whatever she’s wondering about.

“I think you should take the job in Iceland,” she says quietly. “Actually, you absolutely have to take it.”

“Angel, but I?—

“No, please, just let me get this out. I need to say this to you.”

“Okay.”

She turns to face me, looking me dead in the eyes with that steady, fearless stare of hers. “I think you should take the job because it’s your dream to do that type of work, to be out there studying birds in their habitat and working to save them. I saw that firsthand when we went out on the boat with Archie, and I think it made me fall a little bit more in love with you, even though I was still trying to deny that I felt anything for you at all. And over the last few days, I just couldn’t stop thinking about how happy being out there made you.”

“It does make me happy,” I tell her, shrugging a bit. “But being with you and near you is essential to me like nothing else is. And so is your happiness.”

She shakes her head at this. “But that’s just it. These last few weeks you’ve done everything possible to ensure my happiness, and I am so, so appreciative of that. But you’re treating me a bit like I can’t handle any hardship or difficulty, and you’re treating your own needs like they are secondary to mine. I don’t want to be the only happy person in this relationship. And I don’t want you to protect me from yourself any longer.”

Understanding, and a bit of shame, washes through me, because Angela is completely right. I have been protecting her, perhaps a bit too much.

“I’m afraid that if I give you any reason to doubt me, that if any part of this becomes too difficult or painful, it will all fall apart,” I admit.

“I know,” she says, gently cupping my jaw in her hand. “I know. And while we were on Isle North, maybe you did need to be cautious, because I probably would have run away at the first sign of danger. But I trust you now, and I trust that we can make it through doing long distance while you’re in Iceland. And I need you to trust me, too.”

“I do trust you, Angel, I do. I promise. But I can’t accept that job,” I say. “I love that you want me to be happy, and that you’re willing to do long distance just so that I can have the career I’ve always wanted. I know that it must have taken a lot for you to offer that, especially after I abandoned you back then. But I can’t be thousands of miles away from you and also be happy. That’s not how it works for me anymore.”

“It’s your dream. I can’t keep you from that,” she says.

“It’s not my dream anymore, though. When I was twenty, being somewhere remote with just a team of researchers to keep me company sounded great. But now I want other things. Yes, I want a good career, but I also want a comfortable home near my friends and a family, with you and everyone else in Harborview.” I feel my eyes get hot as I say the word family, because I’m reminded of how bad at supporting me my own family has been over the years, and how much it would mean to me to build a new one with Angela. “And I’m going to have a good career,” I continue. “I got the teaching job at the University of Maine. And I talked to Judith about applying for a grant to start our own research project on seabirds and climate change, right here in Maine. She’s completely on board, and we’re going to do the application together.”

“Carter, that's wonderful!” Angela pulls me into a hug, nestling her head against my chest.

“I should also probably tell you that I submitted my dissertation,” I say against her hair.

“Oh my god,” she says, leaning back to look me in the eyes. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me as soon as you hit submit!”

“I wanted to have all the pieces in place before I said anything.”

“Of course you did,” she says, flicking me on the nose.

“And I only submitted it about an hour ago anyways,” I say. “You’re the first person I’ve told.”

“Good,” she says. “But you’re really okay with not going to Iceland?”

“Definitely. Being in Iceland specifically doesn’t matter to me that much, and I’d rather be working to help preserve part of my home.”

“That makes sense. Maybe you’ll even get to work on Isle North.”

“I’ll put it in the grant proposal,” I say. “Archie will get sick of me.”

“Should we celebrate tonight?” Angela asks me. “We could have a fire at the beach with Jamie, Cat, and Hunter.”

“I don’t have the grant yet,” I remind her, because it’s going to be tough as hell to get the project funded, and Judith and I might need to make multiple applications.

“But you basically have a PhD now. And you have two job offers,” she says, taking my hand in hers and gracing me with a brilliant smile. “Plus, you’re staying in Harborview, and we have the rest of our lives to be happy together.”