I smile softly, but the ache in my chest grows. I want to be with him, to hold him, but I can’t shake this feeling that I’m slipping between two worlds. Being a mom first. And maybe, just maybe, trying to find a place where Cole fits in too.
Is that really fair—to him, to me, or to Cohen? What kind of life is that, built on half-truths and things left unsaid? He deserves better than that. We all do. Keeping something this big from him feels like holding back a piece of the truth that could change everything. And if I’m being honest with myself, I don’t know how much longer I can carry it.
But if I don’t try…if I don’t open this door now, will I ever?
I make my way to the closet and pull out a few of the board games I haven’t touched in ages, giving each box a light dusting before setting them down on the table. Games have always been my escape, a small piece of nostalgia that carries me back to times when life was less complicated, when it was just about having fun. I smile at the thought, enjoying the sense of normalcy that comes with preparing for something simple.
It’s strange, the things that make you feel safe. A box of cards. The creak of the floor under familiar feet. The anticipation of laughter that hasn’t happened yet.
When the knock on the door finally comes, my nerves spike again. I take a moment to steady myself before pulling the door open. There he is, standing there with that signature, mischievous grin, his eyes lighting up when he sees me.
He’s holding two bottles of raspberry iced tea. My favorite. I didn’t even ask.
“Hey,” he greets softly, his voice low but warm, instantly making me feel at ease.
“Hey,” I reply, stepping aside to let him in. “Thanks forcoming over. I was thinking we could play a couple of games. You up for it?”
“I’m always up for a game night,” he says, his playful grin making me feel more at ease. “What do you have in mind?”
I lead him into the living room, and we spread the games out on the table. We decide on a classic—one of those trivia games that’s more about laughs and light-hearted competition than actually being good at it. As I shuffle the cards and set everything up, I glance over at him, noticing how comfortably he’s settled into my space. His long legs stretch out across the couch, and he leans back, making himself at home.
It’s moments like this that remind me why I fell for him. His easy confidence, the way he looks at me like I’m the only person in the room, like no time has passed at all. Yet, beneath that ease, I see the weight he carries. The past mistakes, the lost years. It makes me ache for him.
He hides it well, but I see the shadows. I always did. Maybe that’s why I never really let go. Even in his absence, he still felt unfinished. Like a sentence hanging mid-air, waiting for the rest.
I feel a sense of warmth spread through me as I take in the sight. It’s a comfort I didn’t realize I’d missed. This easy, laid-back atmosphere between us. As the first few questions roll by, we both relax into the game, laughing at the absurdity of some answers and playfully teasing each other over silly mistakes. Time seems to blur as we get lost in the rhythm of the game, the clock ticking away unnoticed.
Eventually, my stomach lets out a loud growl, reminding me it’s long past dinnertime. I glance at Cole, who raises an eyebrow at me.
“Pizza?” he suggests, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“Yeah, definitely. You pick. I’m not picky.”
He pulls out his phone and scrolls through the options. I settle back against the couch, the hum of anticipation growing as I watch him. It’s been too long since we’ve just hung out like this.No agenda, no complications, just the two of us. When he looks up at me, his expression is teasing.
“You know what I’m ordering,” he says, tapping a few buttons on his phone with a grin.
I raise an eyebrow, pretending to be surprised. “What do you mean, ‘you know what I’m ordering’?”
He shrugs, his smile playful. “I know your favorite. It’s always the same.”
I feel my heart warm at the thought, and curiosity gets the better of me. “And what’s that?”
He leans back against the couch, his grin wide. “The white pizza with garlic, spinach, and ricotta. You can’t resist it.”
He remembers. Even after everything, he remembers.
A rush of affection hits me, a quiet but powerful reminder of just how much Cole knows me. It’s a small thing, but in this moment, it feels like a reassurance—something steady in a world that often feels anything but. “You’re right,” I admit with a smile. “That’s exactly what I want.”
His eyes twinkle with satisfaction. “Good. I’ll get it ordered. Should be here soon.”
He places his phone down and turns back to me. “So, what’s next?” His voice is casual, but there’s something about the way he asks that makes me feel like he’s fully present—like this time together is enough, even if we get no further than this.
“Well, I think I’m going to beat you at this next game,” I say with a teasing grin.
“Yeah, good luck with that,” he laughs, clearly confident in his abilities.
We continue the game while waiting for the pizza, the easy camaraderie between us growing more comfortable by the minute. For the first time in a while, I feel lighter. Maybe I don’t need to have all the answers tonight. Maybe I don’t need to solve everything at once. I can just enjoy the moment.
