Two Hearts

The Worst Idea I've Ever Had

Daniel POV

The second Laura said yes, I regretted it.

I didn't understand myself anymore. Maybe it was a moment of weakness. Maybe I simply couldn't sit still. Maybe I was losing my mind.

As I paced through the house earlier, one thought had repeated itself over and over again.

I need to get away. Away from everything. Away from the drama. Away from reality. Away from the questions that wouldn't stop spinning inside my head.

Under normal circumstances, I would've gone alone.

I would've gotten into my car, driven to the cabin, enjoyed the silence, and pretended the rest of the world didn't exist.

That's what I always did.

The cabin was where I escaped. The problem was that lately there was no escaping my own thoughts. They ran in circles like a wheel that refused to stop turning. And somehow every road led back to the same place.

Laura.

The drive started with yet another uncomfortable silence.

Laura stared out the window, lost in her thoughts.

I focused on the road. Or at least I pretended to.

Every few minutes I considered starting a conversation. Anything. A simple question. A harmless comment. But every sentence died before reaching my mouth.

What exactly were we supposed to talk about now?

The weather? The children? The fact that we'd kissed and neither of us had mentioned it since?

Yeah.

That sounded easy.

After what felt like forever—twenty minutes, maybe thirty—I had completely lost track of time. Laura finally broke the silence.

"So..." she started carefully. "What exactly is the plan?"

I frowned.

Because honestly? I had no idea.

"I don't have one." It was probably the most honest answer I'd given anyone in weeks.

Laura turned toward me.

"You dragged me into a car without a plan?" There was just enough sarcasm in her voice to make me smirk.

"Technically, you got in voluntarily."

She rolled her eyes.

I tried not to smile. Tried and failed.

The truth was she could've refused. I would've left anyway. Or at least I would've tried to.

The thought immediately felt wrong.

Because for the first time, leaving her behind didn't feel natural anymore. That realization bothered me far more than it should have.

Laura wasn't the problem.

For a long time I had convinced myself she was. The contract. The lies. The pretending. The complications.

Everything became easier if I blamed her.

But the truth was that she'd been dragged into this mess just as much as I had.

And then there was the kiss. I still didn't understand any of it.

Did it mean something?

To me?

To Laura?

What scared me most was the possibility that it had affected me far more than it should have. That was one of the reasons I never kissed women. Not because I couldn't. Not because I didn't know how. But because kisses complicated things. They created expectations.

Hope.

The illusion that something existed when it didn't.

Dana had always tried to kiss me. At first she turned it into a joke. Later she became more persistent. Every time, I avoided it. Every single time. Eventually I started seeing the disappointment in her eyes, even when she tried to hide it.

Because sooner or later every woman asked the same question.

Why?

And I never had an answer that made sense. The truth was simple. A kiss felt far more dangerous than s*x ever did. s*x was physical. A kiss was personal.

A kiss meant letting someone closer than they had any right to be. And for years I had made sure nobody got that close.

Yet somehow Laura had. And I still didn't know how it happened.

"I'll stop at a gas station," I said eventually. "I need fuel. Do you want anything?"

Laura nodded.

"Coffee would be nice."

The answer sounded so ordinary. Like we did this all the time. Like we weren't standing on some invisible line neither of us dared to cross.

A strange thought entered my head.

Were we always like this? Arguing. Fighting. Pushing each other's buttons. Because when I looked at it from the outside, it was almost funny.

Wasn't that exactly how most couples acted?

I glanced at my wedding ring. The gold band still sat on my finger. I still couldn't believe I was wearing it.

I remembered arguing with my father before the photoshoot. I remembered Laura's confused expression when I handed her the ring. I'd promised myself I wouldn't wear it.

Yet here it was. Still on my hand.

And I couldn't explain why.

Twenty minutes later we pulled into a gas station. Laura went inside while I filled the tank. I checked the time. Still at least an hour left to drive.

An hour.

With Laura.

In a confined space. And somehow every minute felt twice as long as it should.

When the pump finally clicked, I headed inside. I decided to grab coffee as well.

Laura was standing beside the coffee machine, adding sugar to hers. I placed a paper cup underneath mine and pressed the button.

She glanced at me.

"I thought you didn't drink coffee."

I froze. Then laughed. Actually laughed.

"That's not the point."

I didn't even realize I was smiling.

Laura shook her head.

I added two extra espresso shots. Her eyes widened.

"That isn't coffee."

I looked at her.

"It absolutely is."

"No. That's poison."

I snorted.

"It's coffee."

"Daniel, do you actually want to die?"

I stared at her. She looked completely serious.

"I like strong coffee."

"I can see that."

"I'd rather stay awake when we get there."

Laura crossed her arms.

"With that much caffeine you'll die from a heart attack before fifty."

Then she turned to leave. But before she did, she placed her hand against my chest. Right where my heart should be.

"If you even have one."

And then she walked away.

I remained standing beside the coffee machine. My hand moved to the exact spot she'd touched. Just for a second. Then I immediately dropped it. Because that would've been ridiculous.

Wouldn't it?

Did I have a heart? Of course I did. Otherwise I'd be dead. The problem wasn't that I didn't have one. The problem was that it had been broken, stitched back together, locked away, and buried so deep that even I wasn't sure how to reach it anymore.

Years ago, I had thrown away the key. At least that's what I'd convinced myself. Lately, however, I wasn't so sure.

At the register, we argued again. Of course we did.

I tried paying for everything. Laura immediately objected.

"Do you think I can't afford my own coffee?" The look she gave me could've started a war.

"I didn't mean it like that." To my own surprise, I found myself explaining.

Why was I explaining? I was just trying to be polite. Laura grabbed her coffee and headed back outside.

I paid for the fuel and my drink.

"Tough woman," the cashier commented.

Without thinking, I answered.

"Normal."

The man blinked.

"A woman should know how to stand up for herself."

I heard my own cold tone. Saw the cashier immediately backtrack.

"Sorry. I didn't mean—"

I simply paid and left.

Walking back to the car, one thought repeated itself. Why did I just defend her?

The rest of the drive passed mostly in silence. But it wasn't the same silence anymore.

Not awkward. Not hostile.

Just quiet. Thoughtful.

We were both somewhere inside our own heads.

We were getting close to the cabin when Laura finally spoke.

"Did you always come here alone?"

I didn't want to answer. Instinct told me to change the subject. To avoid it. To hide behind another wall. But suddenly I was tired.

Tired of hiding.

"Yes." Just one word. Yet somehow it felt like I'd said too much.

"Why?" Her voice remained gentle. No pressure. No demands. Just curiosity.

I stared at the road. Searching for the right words.

Eventually I gave up trying to find perfect ones.

"Because nobody expected anything from me there."

The words came out before I could stop them. No meetings. No investors. No board members. No responsibilities. No father. No version of Daniel Carter that needed to be perfect.

Just me.

Laura didn't ask another question. And for once, I was grateful.

The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable.

It felt like understanding. Or maybe acceptance.

When we finally arrived, I killed the engine and stepped outside.

The ocean greeted us immediately.

The fresh sea air. The distant sound of waves. The familiar calm.

Laura closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. For a moment she simply stood there.

Enjoying it.

Feeling it.

Understanding exactly what this place was meant to be.

A refuge.

A place where nobody expected anything. A place where you could simply exist. And as I watched her standing there, I realized one thing.

This was either the best decision I'd made in weeks.

Or the worst.