Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 111400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
She took off running toward her grandmother, and I stood face to face with Cole. “Cold out there?”
“Yeah.” He glanced outside and spoke quietly. “I wish I didn’t know anyone in this lobby.”
I smiled. “What would you do?”
He met my eyes. “I’d kiss you.”
“I’d like that.”
“Someday,” he said, giving me that lopsided grin I loved. “Anyway, I better get a move on. Drive safe.”
“I will.”
He tugged his gloves on as he walked away, and my breath hitched.
The ring was back on his finger.
Seventeen
Cole
I was behind the wheel, my eyes on the road, my mind lost in memories of Cheyenne, when my mother’s voice suddenly registered.
“Huh?” I straightened up in the driver’s seat and took another sip of my coffee.
“Cole Mitchell, have you heard a word I said?”
“Which word? You’ve said about a million of them since we left Cloverleigh Farms.”
“Very funny. I was just saying how pretty the centerpieces were. Didn’t you think so?”
“Sure.” Truthfully, I couldn’t even recall them.
“And the food was so good.”
“Yeah.” Had I eaten it? The only thing I remembered tasting last night had not been on the table.
“I think Mariah ate three pieces of cake.” My mother laughed, glancing into the back seat, where Mariah had fallen asleep. “She was on a sugar high for hours after that. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get her into bed!”
I sipped my coffee again, feeling a little guilty that my mother had been left to deal with my daughter while I’d gone to Cheyenne’s room for an all-night fuck fling. “Thanks for watching her.”
“Oh, my pleasure.” She sighed again. “Such a wonderful night. Did you enjoy yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Cheyenne looked beautiful, didn’t she?”
I swallowed more coffee. “Yes.”
“Darlene said she’s not seeing anyone.”
She saw a hell of a lot of me last night, I thought. “No, I don’t think she is.”
“You two looked very sweet on the dance floor together.”
“Mm.”
“And I was thinking, maybe you might, you know, enjoy each other’s company.”
“Maybe.” I hid my smile behind my cup. We had definitely enjoyed each other’s company last night. In many positions.
“Look, I know it’s none of my business and you don’t like being told what to do, but I just want to say one thing.”
“Okay.”
“When I was pregnant with you, I was scared.”
“Huh. That’s not where I thought you were heading at all. Are you worried I’m pregnant?”
“Don’t be a smartass. I was scared, because I worried I didn’t have enough love for two kids. I worried about loving Greg less once you came along.”
“Are you finally admitting I’m your favorite?”
“But then I learned something,” she went on, ignoring me. “When you have a second child, you don’t love the first any less. You make more room in your heart.”
I snorted. “Did you read that on a fortune cookie?”
She exhaled sharply. “You’re so exasperating. My point is that you might think falling in love again isn’t possible, but it is. You’ve got a big heart, Cole. There’s room.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Lightning can strike the same place twice, if you let it,” she went on. “But you can’t be afraid.”
“Are you suggesting I run out on the golf course wielding a large metal object?”
“Yes. Figuratively speaking, I am.”
I grinned and lifted my coffee cup again. “If it shuts you up, I’ll consider it.”
It worked—she remained quiet the rest of the way home—but I kept hearing her words in my head. Even though I knew she’d been half-joking, something she said had burrowed into my brain and taken root.
You can’t be afraid.
Why was it bothering me?
I wasn’t afraid. That wasn’t it at all. I was only concerned for my daughter. It was Mariah’s fears that needed calming, not my own. It was Mariah who associated love with loss, not me. It was Mariah who was terrified that something bad would happen. It was Mariah who needed protecting from it all.
It wasn’t me.
After we got home, I unpacked, putting away toiletries, hanging up my suit, making a pile of things for the dry cleaner’s, and tossing dirty laundry in my hamper. When my bag was empty, I shoved it to the back of my closet.
Then I stood in front of my mirror and removed the wedding band I’d worn almost every day for the last ten years. I’d put it back on this morning for two reasons—to avoid an uncomfortable conversation with Mariah in front of my mom if either of them noticed it was missing, and so that I wouldn’t lose it. It didn’t hold the emotional weight for me it once had, but it wasn’t meaningless either.
In fact, placing it in a small cufflink box and tucking it at the back of a dresser drawer felt very meaningful—a conscious step out of the past and into the future.
It was time.
Hopefully, Mariah would see it that way too.
On Monday morning, I called Mariah’s therapist and left a message requesting an appointment this week. She called me back later that afternoon, while I was catching up with some paperwork.