Page 13 of Carly's Heart

“Come on, Mike. I’ll walk you out,” Tanya said. Surprisingly, he let her lead him from the condo.

“I don’t like that man,” Birch growled. “He’s dangerous.”

“He’s hurting. He knows his actions led to this. But I’ll keep the door locked. We’ll be fine.”

“I don’t like it.” He repeated.

“Birch. We’re good. As soon as I’m alone, I’ll lock up and not answer the door until I know who is outside. If there is trouble, I’ll call the ranch. Or the police.”

He looked belligerent, but after squinting at her for several seconds he agreed.

Eventually, everyone was gone. She locked up and rushed to the nursery and picked up Layla. Her sweet, sweet daughter, her Little Bean, slept soundly. Holding her tight, Carly dropped into the rocker and started it in motion. Not for the baby’s sake but for hers.

Today had been one hell of a ride and she was exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster. She was overtired, thirsty, and deeply touched by the actions of her friends. She rocked slowly, the rhythmic motion soothing her. Slowly, her shoulders relaxed, her head grew heavy, and she knew it was time to sleep. Reluctantly, she kissed Layla and tucked her back in.

They’d be together soon enough for another feeding. She shut out the light and staggered to her room and dropped into bed with the necklace Birch had given her held in her fist.

♥ Chapter Eight ♥

Present Day:

The late afternoon sun burned through her car window, heating the interior to an almost unbearable temperature. Still, Carly resisted getting out. She sucked in a breath. She really didn’t feel like attending this engagement party. Guilt rocked her. Today she was supposed to help her best friend celebrate her upcoming nuptials, but after a hellish day, she wanted nothing more than to go home and climb into her bed.

She was done. As her grandma used to say, baked in the cake. Toast. Stick a fork in her, she was done! The day had started poorly with Layla acting up on the way to Mike’s place. In typical three-year-old fashion her daughter seemed to know the worst possible times to throw a tantrum.

Over the past three years, Mike had turned his life around. Shortly after he’d showed up at her place drunk, demanding to see the baby, Mike had joined a rehab program and spent three months in a detox center. He’d stumbled once or twice in the first year, but he was clean and sober now and working hard to be a good father.

Today, he’d been great with Layla’s tantrum but had brought her home late because they’d been at the park. Then Carly nearly ran out of gas because she forgot to fill up yesterday after work. She had to double back into town and fill up.

She closed her eyes and flexed and unflexed her fingers to relax her tension. Time for a mental reset. She pressed her two baby fingers together. Holding them there, she pressed her ring fingers together. Then middle, then index, and finally thumbs. She released them in the same order. She ran the sequence three times. The repetitive motion was soothing. Today was supposed to be a celebration not a tension inducing problem.

Somewhat relaxed, she stared at her best friend’s parents’ enormous two-story house. Six years ago, when she first met Tanya, she’d been surprised by the large house. She’d been expecting something simpler. Tanya’s family, it seemed, had money to burn and Carly came from a much more modest background. Not poor, they had enough to live on, and her parents had managed a small retirement nest egg. But extras were just that. Extra. There were no yearly trips to Mexico or England. No Banff or Aspen ski trips. Her family had enough and were happy.

Tanya’s family, on the other hand, travelled freely and gave generously of their wealth. Despite their financially different backgrounds, they’d become good friends.

Now, Carly lived by a simple motto; it wasn’t your money or background that counted; it was who you were inside. Actions, not words, or money, were what mattered. Sometimes she still fretted over the disparity between her income and her bestie’s. Tanya was amazing, down to earth, and one hundred percent trustworthy. Occasionally, Carly was even able to forget how wealthy her friends were.

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