Page 45 of 5+Us Makes Seven

“I haven’t given a formal acceptance, no. I wanted to talk with you about it first.”

Carter picked up his glass of wine as his eyes stayed connected with mine. I watched the interest and intrigue he had from the beginning slowly fade away. He drank down his entire glass of wine before refilling it, and I was beginning to worry.

Was he not happy for something like this?

“Carter?” I asked.

“Yep?”

“Are you okay?”

“I am. I’m processing everything. What you’ve thrown at me is a lot.”

“I know you’re worried,” I said. “I would be, too. I’ve called you after some of my worst nightmares-”

“Yes, let’s go with that for a second. Would you be stable enough to take on something like this?”

“What?” I asked.

“Would your nightmares and your fears get in the way of your work? Surely you wouldn't be able to do a good job if you were waking up at three in the morning crying for someone to talk to.”

“I… think you might have meant that to come out another way, but I’ll roll with it. No. I dealt with my nightmares while I was over there and I was fine. The children kept me okay,” I said.

“What if things get worse?”

“Didn’t you hear me? Bria’s being liberated.”

“But we all know how this story goes down. Eventually those battling forces leave because they think the area is stable and the opposing forces come back in. Can you really watch more of the children you love die like that, Natasha?”

“I can help them, Carter. I did before, and I can do it again. Hell, I could do more as the head of the entire program. I thought you would be happy about this?”

“Like you said, I’m just worried about you.”

But I didn’t believe him.

There was something else going on underneath.

“Let’s change the subject for a second. What’s your big news?” I asked.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.”

“Does it?” he asked.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Our first course was set in front of us. Carter picked up the spoon-sized morsel and tossed it back, swallowing it without even chewing. Or savoring the flavors. Or enjoying whatever the hell it was he had just eaten.

Did he even know what he had just eaten?

“Was it good?” I asked.

“Delicious.”

“Did you taste it first?” I asked.

“It’s the spicy course,” he said.

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