“I’m weak.”
“You’re perfect.” He kissed me again, deeper, and I forgot Decker existed.
Someone cleared their throat.
We broke apart. A woman stood in the doorway. In her mid-twenties, gorgeous in that effortless way some people managed, with long dark hair and a warm smile.
“Faith.” Cole’s voice was casual, relaxed. “Great job tonight.”
She stepped into the room, extending her hand to me. “Thanks. You must be Autumn. I’m Faith. Cole hasn’t shut up about you.”
I shook her hand, surprised by the genuine warmth. “Oh. Nice to meet you.”
She grabbed a water bottle from the mini-fridge and settled onto the couch. “Finally. I was starting to think he made you up. No offense, but he’s been acting like a lunatic.”
Cole groaned. “Faith.”
“What? You forgot the chords to ‘Backroads’. That never happens.”
Decker nodded. “It’s true. Very unlike you, baby brother.”
Faith’s smile was genuine, affectionate. “But seriously, Autumn, it’s good to meet you. I’m glad Cole found someone who makes him this happy. Lord knows he’s been a grump for the past six months.”
“Since the breakup,” Decker added helpfully.
Faith threw a bottle cap at him. “We agreed not to make it weird.”
“It’s only weird if we pretend it didn’t happen.”
Faith turned back to me. “Fair point. Just so you know, Cole and I are ancient history. We wanted different things. No hard feelings. I’m actually glad we can still work together without drama.”
“That’s… really mature.”
“We try.” Faith stood, stretching. “If you ever need someone to talk to about what it’s like dating a musician who’s gone all the time, I’m here. I know it’s weird coming from the ex, but I’ve been doing this long enough to know what helps.”
Something in my chest eased. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.” She grabbed her bag. “I’m going to let you two have some privacy. But, Autumn? Come to Charlotte this weekend. It’ll be fun. See you later, lovebirds.”
She left, and the tension I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying dissolved.
“She’s nice,” I said.
Cole pulled me close. “She is. I’m glad you two met. Faith’s family. And you’re…” He paused, searching for words. “You’re everything.”
“That’s a lot of pressure.”
He kissed my forehead. “Good pressure. Now, want to get out of here? I have a hotel room and plans that involve making you forget your own name.”
“That’s quite an offer.”
“I deliver on my promises.”
He did.
The hotel room was generic, with beige walls and a bed that dominated the space.
“I’m sweaty,” he said.
