“Hey.” I try to keep my voice casual and nothing like a man that just had shower sex.
“Are you alive?” she asks, half teasing. “I haven’t heard from you in days.”
“I’ve just been busy, Mom.” Cove looks over at me, smiling, trying to hold back her laughter.
“Uh-huh. Well, I’m calling to ask about Christmas. Are you coming home or pretending you forgot again?”
I glance back over at Cove, perched on the edge of the bed, clothes on now, as she towel dries her hair, while scrolling through her phone every few seconds.
“I’m coming home. I just… haven’t figured out the details yet.”
I can hear her mind churning away now, I only miss calls with her when I’m seeing someone. It’s sad I know, but it’s the way it is. “Anyone special coming with you?”
I hesitate. Do I want to ask Cove to come home with me? We haven’t even spoken about the holidays. She may want to see her own family. “Maybe. I’ll let you know.”
“Okay. I love you, Everest. Just try to remember me and check in so I know you’re alive.”
“I promise, Mom. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
She hangs up and I set my phone down. Cove looks up at me and must see something on my face that concerns her. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” I sit down on the bed beside her. “She asked about Christmas.”
“Oh.”
I take a breath. “I want you to meet her. Eventually.”
I hesitate. Not because I don’t want her there—God, Ido. But because I can’t tell how she’d take it. It’s too soon, maybe. Or maybe I’m just scared she’ll say no.
Cove’s smile softens—but uncertainty flickers behind it.
“Maybe. One day. We’re still new. Perhaps, after the new year?”
The disappointment hits fast, sharp but quiet. I nod. The rejection without even asking her gutted me.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “Whenever you’re ready.”
I don’t push. Don’t argue. And I sure as hell don’t ask her to come for Christmas with me.
Instead, I reach out for her hand, lacing our fingers together.
And even with the small ache in my chest, there’s one thing I know for sure:
Cove is it for me, even if she doesn’t realize it yet for herself.
Chapter Twenty-Two
COVE
Filming usedto feel like paradise after coming home from working at a school full of sick tiny humans. Muscle memory, breath and instinct all lining up like they always have. I turn on the lights, hit record, become her. CottonCandyKisses. Sweet voice. Soft eyes. Controlled chaos.
Lately, though?
It feels like trying to dance in shoes that don’t fit anymore.
I sit back on my heels after the last take, blinking at the red light still glowing on the camera. My body is loose, pliant, worked over in all the familiar ways—but my head isn’t where it’s supposed to be. Something’s missing.
