Paris: The Memoir(88)
Carter’s family always gathers for the holidays. He grew up in a small town outside Chicago. He’s a Midwesterner, and I love that about him. After college, he worked for Goldman Sachs until he and Courtney moved to LA to start VEEV, a high-end alcohol brand—one of the fastest-growing private companies in the US—and founded their venture capital firm, M13 Investments, in 2016.
He likes to think we knew each other because we were in the same place at the same time on so many occasions, but the truth is, I didn’t notice him. I was too busy being Queen of the Night. In August 2019, while This Is Paris was in postproduction, I was at Burning Man. A friend came over to say hello and get a quick photo, and Carter was there. I looked right through him.
It’s weird. Like maybe we were meant for each other, but God didn’t let me see him until I was ready.
In the fall, holiday plans began to evolve, and Mom wanted me to come to the Hamptons for Thanksgiving with family and friends. This was something I hadn’t done for fifteen years. I always worked. Always had a reason to be in London or India or anywhere other than the dinner table with my parents. That was a hard no for me, especially when I heard Nicky and James were going to Abu Dhabi.
“I’m not sitting there alone with Mom and Dad,” I said. “That would be incredibly lame.”
“Paris,” Nicky said in her bossy-little-sister voice, “go see your family. Don’t be an orphan. The girls will be there! You haven’t seen Lily Grace and Teddi for a while, and they’re growing so fast.”
I told her I’d think about it, and looking around LA, I was surprised to realize that I was tired of being detached and wandering, sick of parties where I had to play some scripted part.
I felt ready to go home.
Thanksgiving week was busy with cooking, eating, and social calls. Mom was invited to dinner at her friend’s house, and she invited me to go with her. She expected me to make some excuse about needing to sleep or go shopping, but I said, “Sure.”
I expected to be bored out of my mind, but I got there and saw this cute guy—tall and athletic with an amazing smile and kind eyes—and I thought, Okay, this might be interesting. Carter’s sister, Halle, is married to the son of my mom’s friend. Carter’s dad had passed away suddenly two years earlier, so Carter was there with his mom, Sherry, a small steel-magnolia kind of lady. The way Carter looked after her was so sweet: attentive but not hovering, compassionate but strong. He always had her in the corner of his eye.
When Carter saw me, his face lit up. Carter says when he saw me sit by the fire with a cup of hot chocolate, he told his brother to run interference so he could talk to me alone for a while. We covered the hi how are you basics, and I realized this guy thought I knew who he was. He mentioned the Burning Man thing, and trying to be nice, I was like, “Oh, yeaaaaah. Of course.” He asked me about my upcoming plans, and I said, “I’m supposed to go on this trip with the Dalai Lama and a bunch of other people.”
He said, “Oh, I know some people going on that trip. Let me get your number so I can introduce you.” He didn’t actually know anyone on the trip. It was just a workaround so he could get my real phone number without seeming overly aggressive.
When people started mobilizing for dinner, I made a powder-room run to freshen up my makeup, and Carter headed for the table, situating his mom on his left, bogarting the chair on his right to keep it open for me. When I sat next to him, he didn’t even try to be cool about it. He was just elated to be sitting there with me. As the evening went on, we talked about our families, art, life, business, and our mutually favorite thing: work. And then Carter kept on talking about work while I sat there thinking about how to get him outside so I could kiss him.
One of the servers leaned in and quietly said, “Miss Hilton, I notice you’re not eating. Is there something else we can get you?”
“No,” I said. “I don’t like to eat in front of cute boys.”
After dinner, I asked him if he wanted to go for a walk outside and basically jumped him. I pushed him up against the fence in the tennis court and kissed him, and then we made out like teenagers for ten or fifteen minutes.
Carter said, “Well. I was not expecting that.”
“I get what I want,” said the Queen of the Night.
“I should get going,” said Carter. “We’re heading back into the city tonight. I’m staying at the Plaza with my mom and my brother.”
I was like wait now—what? That’s it? And then they left.
Google emergency. I spent the rest of the night researching this guy, checking out his company, watching him on YouTube doing interviews and business commentary on CBS and Fox and Hatched, a show about entrepreneurs.
He was so damn cute. I was obsessed. I had to see him again.
“Don’t go to the city,” Mom said. “You’ll look desperate.”
And I felt kind of desperate. I stayed one more night in the Hamptons, got up, and packed my bags. I told Mom, “I have to see him.”
I went back to my apartment in New York. Carter came over. We ordered Mr. Chow’s and drank a bottle of wine and talked for hours and hours. I told him about the doc that was about to come out—the shocking secret that would be revealed to the world. He listened to my story with tears in his eyes.
For the first time in my life, I began a relationship on a foundation of full disclosure. I made a connection that didn’t include separate corners for carefully kept secrets. We were honest with each other. Crazy concept, right? First you own it. Then you can share it.