“And I’m already mixed up with one asshole, that’s enough for me,” I finished for him.
Cole’s eyes narrowed, and his expression transformed from teasing to menacing. “Waylon is still giving you trouble?”
I thought I was moving away from dangerous subjects, but it turned out any conversation about me and men was fraught with psychological booby traps.
“No more than he used to.” I waved my hand in dismissal.
I did not want Cole’s visit to be shadowed by Waylon. I did not want him to see me as the friend he constantly needed to help. To rescue.
The crease in Cole’s brow deepened, as much as it could, given the Botox in his face.
“He used to isolate you from your friends and family, demean you, drain your bank account, and suck the joy from your life.” His disdain for my estranged husband was hot and visceral.
I downed the rest of my soda. I’d pushed that period of my life into a dark corner. But with Cole shedding light on it again, images rushed into my head. Painful ones.
“My life has plenty of joy now,” I retorted weakly.
“Yeah, I see that,” he agreed. “Playing house with a remarkable little girl and a man doing an abysmal job of pretending he doesn’t like you.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, getting emotional whiplash from volleying between Waylon and Beau. I didn’t know which I’d rather talk about.
“Does Beau know about Waylon?” Cole asked.
“No!” I hissed, the mere thought of Beau learning about my marital status making my skin itch. “And he’s not going to know. It’s none of his business.”
Cole shook his head as if I were dense. “You’rehis business, so I’m thinking he’s going to find out sooner rather than later. And when he does, the alpha is going to come out.”
“You’re wrong,” I replied adamantly. “And if he did find out, he’d think I was an idiot more than anything,” I added in a small voice.
“What the fuck?” Cole snarled. “You arenottalking about yourself like that.”
Sadness swam through me as I smiled at him. “It’s the truth. It’s why I was such a shitty friend to you. Why I don’t know about all the joy in your life, why I let the joy be sucked out of mine. IletWaylon isolate me.”
Cole opened his mouth then closed it. Taking in a deep breath, he examined me. “It is not that simple, Han,” Cole eventually said, his tone faint, tender.
I nodded, my throat almost closing with sorrow, regret. “It is. And I didn’t reach out to you when I left him because I was embarrassed. Because I didn’t want to see myself through your eyes.” Tears clouded my vision.
Cole reached across the table to grasp my hand. “What I see is an amazing woman who escaped the reach of an asshole and who has the whole world in front of her.” He squeezed my hand. “I see my best friend. You think you can claim authority on having bad taste in men?” He scoffed. “I’ve done that plenty. Our taste in men does not define us. However, Beau looks like he’sdefined by two women. One is five. The other is right in front of me.”
I pulled my hand from Cole’s to wipe my eyes and shake my head. “No, Beau is not interested in me like that.”
Cole pursed his lips, his penetrating gaze telling me he didn’t believe me.
I didn’t believe myself.
I’d gotten home after Beau had gone to bed, but he’d left the light on for me. I told myself it was good that I didn’t have to have an awkward conversation with him.
But I’d stared at his closed bedroom door for much too long before I’d forced myself into my room. I’d expected to toss and turn all night, kept awake by the memories Cole’s presence had dredged up, the proverbial wool he’d pulled off my eyes when it came to Beau.
Thankfully, I’d been asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, exhaustion—both physical and emotional—winning against my anxious brain.
And Clara was already awake by the time I made it to the kitchen the next morning, babbling about her plans for New York and asking when Cole would arrive.
Beau was pleasant. He gave me coffee—again, exactly how I took it—and made me breakfast. But he did his level best to avoid looking and speaking to me directly.
I did the same, unsure of the way forward now that I had Cole’s eyes on the situation. He would not placate me. He was good with people, reading them. He had to be; growing up, that skill had meant life or death for him.
If he said he saw Beau watching me in a certain way, it was the truth. One that I could not handle right then. Not with denial, avoidance, and a touch of sexual tension clouding the morning.
