Shit.
I stared, scrambling for an excuse to bolt.
She held up a glittery pink flask, an icebreaker, a peace offering.
I hit Unlock. She settled into my passenger seat.
The vehicle shrunk around me.
“You ditching the rest of the service?” she asked, breathy and conspiratorial.
Shame choked me, suppressing any response.
Natalie worked off the lid, then passed the bottle my way. “You looked ready to faint in there. Thought this might help.” Her tone held no anger, no bitterness.
“You’ve had this on you the whole time?”
She answered with a wide smile, an enthusiastic nod, and a tap to her oversized handbag.
“You’re drinking…” I sniffed the opening. “Rum. At nine in the morning.”
“I was nervous about seeing you.” She snatched the bottle, downed a swig, then shoved it back into my hand. “It’s the good stuff. And clearly, I’m not the only one who’s a wreck.”
“Was I that obvious?”
She laughed, then sighed and turned to face me, resting her temple against the headrest. “I’m probably the last person you want to talk to right now, but I’m here. I’m a good listener.”
Natalie King was the only person I ever wanted to talk to, and that was a problem because my head was a mess. My ticker? That vile thing was torn in two, one half black and decayed, the other shredded, but thumping back to life in her presence.
“I’d love a drink, but”—I tapped a thumb on the steering wheel—“I have to drive.”
“So drive to Ellis and Lacey’s house. Park down the street. We’ll drink. We’ll talk. We’ll join the party when we’re good and ready.”
Not what I had in mind, but at least we had a plan. I nodded, fired up the engine, and pulled into the Sunday morning traffic before confessing, “Before you accosted me, I was figuring out how to ditch lunch.”
“I don’t blame you.” Natalie fiddled with the hem of her skirt. “I can’t imagine how hard this is after losing Victoria and the baby.”
I forced my anger into the steering wheel, squeezing hard, and ground my teeth together to keep from screaming. Natalie didn’t deserve my rage. After two measured breaths, I said, “I owe you an apology for the things I said at the funeral. I was in a dark place, needed someone to dump on.”
She nodded in acceptance, curled her lips between her teeth, and stared at her hands. Then her watery eyes met mine. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry for your loss.”
“I know.”
Two blocks from Ellis’s place, I parked under the shade of a tall maple, then turned to face the gorgeous girl with rosy cheeks, dark blond hair, and a smile that reminded me I was flesh and blood human, not a hollow shell. “I’m so angry all the time. So goddamn angry. I look in the mirror and I see me, but my skin doesn’t fit right, like there’s a slithering, vile, black entity underneath this mask I wear.”
“That’s some heavy shit to carry around, Cole.” Natalie again twisted the top off her ridiculous flask, took a swig, then offered me a drink.
I didn’t refuse and reveled in the burn as the liquid hit my throat. “Shit. That is the good stuff.” I took another shot, my chest feeling a hundred pounds lighter.
Then the beauty laughed and said, “Only the best for my friends.”
Goddamn, she looked gorgeous in my Roadster. My chest cracked, my stomach knotted, and that bitter, nasty being under my skin shivered. “Is that what we are, Natalie, friends?”
“Well”—she smirked—“we’re something, Cole Adams, aren’t we?”
I couldn’t help my grin. “A hot mess.”
Again with the laugh, and I wanted nothing more than to turn those giggles into moans.
Instead, I laid my heart at her feet and my palm on her cheek. “I miss this face.”
“Cole.” She blew a long, slow breath, leaned into my touch, conviction hardening her features. Bile rose in my throat. I knew what was coming. Bullshit in the form of you’re grieving, or you had to choose Victoria.
Nobody understood what I suffered. Nobody could comprehend the war of conscience I battled every waking moment of every miserable day.
I pressed a finger to her lips because I didn’t want her response, good or bad. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.” I landed a soft kiss on her forehead and said, “I’m glad you’re here,” then pulled away and settled into my seat, putting distance between us and shielding my black heart. “Tell me about your job.”
Her eyes lit, those gray irises sparkling. “I got promoted to the Corporate Accounts team. Worked my ass off to get there.” Her gaze darkened, and she seemed lost in thought, staring over my shoulder. “I suppose, in a way, I have Victoria to thank. She always told me I’d be a nobody. That I was no prettier or smarter than”—she held up her free hand, making air quotes—“an ugly cow in a field of ugly cows.”
I refrained from punching the dash.
Natalie slumped, then continued. “I never loved school, but I was dead set on proving her wrong, so I graduated top of my class.”
She was a fighter, like her father had said, and she’d fought her way to the top, overcoming the bully.
“Why banking?” I asked, plucking the flask from her hand and downing a shot.
She laughed, shaking her head. “It’s silly, really. When I was little, I loved going to the bank with Mom. They always had lollipops for the kids, and the people were so nice. I thought it was cool they got to work behind those giant glass walls. Started out as a cashier, worked my way up.”
That wasn’t silly. That was Natalie.
For the next half hour, we made small talk. She told me about her promotion. I told her about the new development projects Dad and I had in the works and my plans for expanding CFC.
I got a text from Ellis at the same time Natalie’s phone chimed.
“We better head in,” I grumbled, not ready to leave our safe place, not ready to let her go.
Natalie offered a shy smile that pummeled all my vulnerable places. I held her hand. We walked in silence. Instead of begging her to keep in touch, I kissed her cheek, said, “It was good to see you,” and opened the door, following her inside.
We parted ways. The hole in my heart grew wider but somehow hurt a little less.
Natalie
I found Lacy in the nursery, babe at her breast, lids heavy, cheeks flushed.
“There you are,” she whispered, swinging her free arm wide for a hug.
Our embrace was sloppy but vital, the child our new reality. I kissed Leon’s fuzzy head, that heavenly baby scent eliciting bittersweet emotions.
“Please tell me you were with Cole,” she said, a hint of intrigue in her tone. “He looked like he was going to faint.”
I planted my butt on the fuzzy blue rug next to the rocking chair. “Are you mad I left early?”
“Of course not.” She shifted the baby to the other breast. “Ellis is worried. We’ve hardly seen Cole since the accident.” She winced, adjusted her boob, then continued, “He disappears every night after work, doesn’t return calls.” Lacey’s eyes turned liquid.
Grief and Lacey were well acquainted.
“He’s hurting,” I whispered, my body aching with sadness, though I wasn’t sure why. I studied the wall behind mother and son. Gold stars scattered across a midnight blue wall, the pattern erratic but inspiring infinite hope and wonder.
The baby made a squeak and released his mom’s boob.
“He done?” I said, fighting tears.
Lacey nodded.
Hopping to my feet, I ordered, “Hand him over.” I scooped that little bundle of joy into my arms. I burped him like a pro, then smothered him with kisses.
Holding him warmed me deep, soul deep.
“You can lay him in the crib.” Lacey nodded to the white wooden bed and yawned.
“I don’t want to let go.” Tears trickled, catching on my lip and chin. I had no free hands to wi
pe them away.
“Look at my little boy, collecting his jar of hearts already.” Lacey rose from the chair and used her sleeve to dry my face. “Sit.” She nudged me toward the rocking chair.
I lowered myself into the cushion, and she tucked a pillow under my arm.
“He’s so perfect. So beautiful and perfect.”
“I know, right. I did good, didn’t I?” Lacey yawned, stretched, then righted her shirt, adjusting her plump breasts in her nursing bra.
“Head downstairs and join the party. I need some bonding time with my godson.”
“You sure?”
“Definitely. Go.” I shooed her away.
“Love you, Nat Brat.” She stared for a long spell before heading toward the door.
“Love you, too, Lulu.” I blew her a kiss and watched her retreat, admiring the new roundness to her hips before giving the baby my full attention.
I studied the chubby little face, his thick dark lashes, that pink little mouth, and dusted a finger over the silky black fuzz on his head. “You’re going to be a lady killer, aren’t you, little guy?”
He stretched, squeaked, pursed his lips. My vision blurred. God, such beauty.
“Someday, I hope I can give you cousins to play with. I don’t see that happening anytime soon, though. You see, I don’t have the best of luck in the love department. I’ll probably grow old alone. Turn into a crazy cat lady. On the bright side, you’ll always have cute little kitties to play with. No, that could never work. I don’t like cats so much. Anyway, point is, I’ll always be here for you, no matter what. Okay? Don’t ever forget that. I got you, little guy.” I dotted his face with kisses, and when he started to fuss, I rocked to my feet and made my way to the window, swaying and humming, holding him cheek to cheek.
He fussed, body coiling, so I rubbed his back and started to hum the tune I loved most, “Someone to Watch Over Me.”
Outside, the sky was bright and clear, and the trees boasted beautiful shades of red and orange. I caught sight of a reflection in the window. I turned to find Cole, arms crossed, leaned against the doorjamb, eyes dark and liquid and aimed at the baby. The man was painfully beautiful, his grief a pulsing entity.
My chest caved. God, how he must hurt.
That invisible string between us tightened, and I moved in his direction. The broken man dropped his gaze to the floor, then disappeared.
Cole manned the grill, can of Bodhizafa in one hand, tongs in the other. Dad stood at the far edge of the deck, deep in conversation with Ellis’s father, staring and pointing sporadically across the property. Ellis wrestled with a garden hose halfway across the lawn.
“This house is gorgeous, isn’t it?” Mom said from behind, her arms coming around my middle, her chin resting on my shoulder.
I nodded, unable to stray my focus from the sight outside. Cole poked and prodded the sizzling meat, feet set at a comfortable stance, his shoulders bunching and rolling under his dress shirt, his tight ass putting on a fine show in his navy slacks.
“Lacey is so happy and loved,” I whispered.
Cole turned to say something to Ellis, then lifted the beer to his lips, revealing in profile his square jaw, that straight nose, and thick, luscious, talented lips.
He was overdue for a haircut, not that the shaggy locks hurt his image by any means. Not even the grief haunting his eyes could mar his beauty.
Mom sighed in my ear. I sighed, too, folding my arms over hers and breathing through the bone-deep ache.
Cole turned to toss his can in the trash. Our eyes met through the window, freezing time and space. His dimple made an appearance, brief and unsure, but aimed my way regardless, stealing my breath, my wits, my heart and soul.
A nod our way, and then he severed our connection, turning his back to me once again.
Mom’s arms tightened against my full-body shiver. “How long have you been in love with Cole?”
A simple question. No appropriate answer. “How did you know?” My voice broke.
“Oh, baby.” Soft lips landed on my cheek. “Any fool can see.”
“Dad told you.”
She straightened. “Your dad knows?”
“He didn’t tell you?” I turned, bracing her shoulders. “Am I that transparent?”
“I’m your mother. I can read you like an open book.”
Blinking back tears, I confessed, “I couldn’t share my feelings with anyone, Mom. Cole wasn’t mine to covet. And I struggled every day with the guilt of wanting a taken man.”
Knowing eyes pierced my soul, and she sucked in a breath before cupping my face. “He’s the reason you took the job in Whisper Springs.”
“Yes.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Mom wrapped me in a tight embrace, and I melted into her soft curves with a sigh. Mom hugs had magical healing powers, and I absorbed that shit like a shriveled sponge.
“I had to get far away,” I mumbled into her hair, fighting tears.
There was no disappointment in her tone, only concern. “Because he was taken.”
“I had no right wanting him. I never should have befriended him. I told myself I was doing it for Lacey. But that was a lie.”
“Why then? Because of Victoria?”
“No. Oh, God, no. Because I loved him. I fell head over heels the first time he looked at me. Before I knew he belonged to her. He was a stranger, and I thought I’d never see him again, but it didn’t matter. He looked at me, and I fell.” I pulled away, shaking my head. “I know that sounds ridiculous.”
“Why? Why is it ridiculous? The first time I laid eyes on your dad, I knew he was the one. I saw our future laid out. Sure, details were foggy, but our fate was there, certain as the rising sun.”
“Dad wasn’t engaged or unavailable when you met him.”
“True.” She wiped a tear off my cheek, her lips quirking. “So you fell in love, and the timing was terrible. But you didn’t act on that attraction, right?”
I shook my head.
“Good. But—”
“Cole.” Ellis walked through the back door. “Need help with that?”
My guts twisted. Mom gasped. We turned our heads at the same time, and thank the good Lord for Mom’s arms because my knees buckled at the sight.
Cole stood against the kitchen island, gripping the over-stuffed platter of meat, brows pinched, eyes dark, a thousand turbulent emotions encased in those golden globes.
Clueless, Ellis slapped his shoulder.
Still as a statue, he stood, holding me prisoner with the weight of that glare.
Lacey walked into the room, clapped her hands together, and said, “Oh, good. Steaks are done. I’m starving. Nat Brat, grab the salad out of the fridge.” She snatched a stack of plates off the counter. “It’s a beautiful day. Let’s eat on the deck.”
Mom gave my fingers a squeeze, cleared her throat, then breezed past me and the men, as if Cole hadn’t just maybe, possibly—oh God, who was I kidding? He’d heard every word. Every crazy stupid syllable that came out of my mouth.
With a muttered, “Fuck,” Cole pinched his eyes closed, shook his head, and turned to follow Lacey.
Three deep breaths, and I made my way to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face before joining the others. We sat around the large round wrought iron table, Cole two bodies down.
We ate and laughed, and I pretended like my heart wasn’t breaking, or that my nerves weren’t shredded, and I avoided looking to my right at all costs.
Until Lacey said, “So, what are your plans tonight, Nat Brat?”
“Oh.” I shot a quick glance her way, Cole in my periphery. “I’m joining Finn and Mona for dinner before her show.”
Lacey’s smile fell, but she quickly recovered.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be by first thing in the morning to say goodbye. And I’ll be back for Thanksgiving.”
“And Christmas, too,” Dad interjected, brows raised as if I’d dare to challenge him.
“Of course.”
Leon’s wails brought all of our attention to the little white monitor at Ellis’s side. I pushed from the table, shouted, “He’s mine!” then dashed away before anyone could beat me to the baby.
When I returned, Cole was gone.
“Tonight I’m going to do something I rarely do on stage. But a new, and very dear friend of mine, made a special request. When I asked him why, and why this song, he simply said, “She’s home.” Mona dropped her head, took a measured breath, and cleared her throat, collectively enthralling the crowd.
“His cryptic response was so full of heartache and regret,” she continued. “I didn’t question further. So, my dear friend who wished to remain anonymous, this one’s for you.”
The spotlight changed from white to blue, then followed Mona to the piano. She sat. The room fell eerily silent.
Mona hit the keys at the same time her husky rasp hit the mic. She crooned the lyrics to “Wicked Game” by Chris Isaak.
Riveted to my chair at the small table in front of the stage, I fell victim to the haunting melody. I thought of Cole and our one weekend together. I’d been so desperately, selflessly, irrepressibly in love.
I still was hopelessly, foolishly, obsessively in love.
Mona continued.
I blinked back tears, the lyrics flooding my veins with grief for the man I’d had for one perfect weekend.
Next to me, a chair scraped. A thigh bumped into mine, then settled warm against my leg, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t tear my gaze from the stage or my attention from the message. Whoever the song was for, I wanted to know their story. I’d have to torture the truth from Mona after her set.
A hand landed on my thigh, then moved to grab my arm, sliding down to entwine our fingers, stealing my breath and my wits. I knew those fingers, that strong grip, the scent of him intimately. Tears fell harder. If I looked his way, I’d shatter.
Seconds passed before I was composed enough to whisper, “What are you doing here?”
“You know what I’m doing here.”
Though I focused my blurry stare on Mona, the weight of Cole’s gaze heated me head to toe.
“Torturing me?”
His breath warmed my cheek. “You like the song?”
L.O.V.E. Page 16