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“You need to get out and date, honey,” my mother says.
No, I think. Forget the dating. I’ll take Cole’s hand on my ass, just one more time.
“I am,” my mother says.
My eyes go wide. “What?”
“I met someone at the hospital. An architect.”
“Who’s ten years younger than her,” Marie Anne chimes in. “And gorgeous.”
My eyes go even wider. “When?” I ask. “Have you gone on a date?”
“I met him a week ago when his daughter gave birth,” she says. “He’s divorced, and we just started chatting and couldn’t stop. He’s stopped by to see me twice now and I agreed to let him bring me dinner on my break tonight.” She glances at the clock over the stove. “Oh my. I need to get to work. Please tell me you have plans tonight.”
“I’m meeting friends for dinner,” I lie, because while I hate lies, I love her and I don’t want her to worry. I’m happy to see her happy, even though I want to meet this architect and size him up, immediately.
A few minutes later, I’m alone in the apartment, and I put another huge slice of chocolate cake on my plate. I might as well grow a bigger butt. No one is going to be seeing it anytime soon.
Cole
One month later…
I’m in New York City for the second time since that morning without a goodbye from Lori, and I’m sitting in the bar where I’d met her the second time, because holy fuck, I want to meet Lori a third time. It’s Friday night, I’ve spent all day looking at office space, contracts, and negotiating deals. I’m exhausted and I fly out early tomorrow when I should have flown out tonight. I have a weekend of prep for the new trial starting Monday morning, but instead I’m here. I’m here because it’s the only place I know that she might be. Because I’m losing my fucking mind over a woman.
I finish off a Scotch, because wine just isn’t cutting it for me the past few weeks. A pretty brunette across the bar catches my eye. I don’t turn away. I want to want her. I want to take her to my room, fuck her, and fuck Lori out of my head. Bring it on. But I don’t get up. That’s telling. I’m a man who goes for what I want, I pursue, but I don’t get up now.
She does. She walks in my direction, and I already know what comes next. I flag the waiter, Johnathan, I believe he said is his name. He hurries in my direction and when the woman sits down, I motion to Johnathan. “What’ll you have?”
“Wine,” she says. “House red.”
Wine. Bad choice, and she doesn’t even know it. I glance at Johnathan. “Put it on my tab and cash it out.”
She arches a brow. “Shouldn’t we talk or something while I finish the wine?”
“I have an early flight,” I say. “No time. You’re beautiful. This isn’t personal nor is it a reflection on you. It’s me. Have a good night.”
She blanches. “What?”
I stand up, walk to the bar, sign the tab, and leave.
Lori
I exit to the street, and I can hardly breathe. I don’t know what made me stop by the bar where I’d met Cole tonight, but I’d had this strong compulsion to just go, sit, and drink wine, of all things. And he’d been there. Really been there. I’d stood there, trying to decide if I would go up to him when I watched him share a look with a beautiful brunette. And then I’d watched her get up and walk toward his table. I know where to find him tonight. In a hotel room with a woman over his knee that he’s convinced to let him spank her. My Prince Charming is no Prince Charming. That’s the problem with fairy tales. They’re never real.
Chapter thirteen
Cole
The next morning…
Ibuckle up on the plane with one thought: This is it. I’m in court for what could turn into six weeks. I won’t be back to New York. I have to win a man’s freedom and I have to get my head in the game, and out of some fantasy about a woman who might not have even given me her real name.
It’s done.
I have to let her go.
I sit there for thirty seconds and force that thought to become reality, but I fail.
