Carter is standing at the kitchen island, waiting for me. I stop dead in the doorway and stare at him. Unlike me, he’s obviously gone to some lengths with his appearance tonight: fitted dark wash jeans and a long-sleeve Henley in a dark olive-green color. His hair looks freshly cut and is shining gold in the kitchen light. Even from across the room I can smell something masculine and earthy, like he put on cologne or aftershave. Probably feeling the weight of my eyes on him, he looks over and smiles. It’s the same smile I saw in the picture he showed me with Anthony Lawson, but the first time
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