“You don’t have to,” he said. “Alex could be with you, or Marcus?”
I nodded, but the fear didn’t ease.
Cole shifted, like he was unsure how much he was allowed to offer. “I mean, I can wait out in the kitchen or the office, and if you need?—”
“Will you come into the room with us?” I interrupted. “We don’t need them to know who you are,just…”
He blinked. “Withyou?”
“Yeah. I get why you might not want to, I mean, Alex did say he would, but maybe Gabbi and I wantyou.”
Silence stretched between us, and then Cole squeezed my hand. “Then I’ll be there, in my best suit.”
“No, I don’t… I mean… f—fudge.” The following words came out rough, rushed. “I want it to be clear—this isn’t about money, or names, or what you could fix. I didn’t ask you because you’re rich. I asked you because you’re the man I’m starting to fall for, and I can’t—” I swallowed, eyes flicking away. “I can’t have you thinking you’re there with me because of what you have. Or have them wondering why someone like you would even want to be with someone like me.”
“I don’t think anything like that,” he said. “And I’m here because you’re you.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You didn’t ask for aBraxton. You asked for your friend, Cole. And that’s who showed up.”
Something in my chest unclenched. Just a little. Enough to breathe.
Enough to hope.
TWELVE
Cole
My motherand father video called me while I was getting ready for the visit with Morgan, allegedly about an upcoming event, but mostly my mother was digging for details about the man I’d told her about.
“Tell your father about your new beau,” she insisted, and Father huffed in that way where he’d been included in a call he didn’t want to be part of.
I knew his pain.
“I met him at Guardian Hall,” I said. “His name is Morgan and he’s a single dad.”
“He works at Guardian Hall?” Mother asked. “That’s a respectable charitable endeavor.”
“No, he’s a guest.”
“He’s living there?”
“Yes. He’s former military.”
Silence, which I refused to fill. “And the child is with the mother?” my mother asked.
“His daughter, and no Gabbi’s mom is deceased.”
“Oh no, that poor child,” Mother said, her compassion coming to the fore. “So, are you financially supporting this Morgan and his baby?”
“No, I’m not supporting anyone,” I cut in. “He didn’t ask for money.”
“That isn’t the point,” she said, voice calm and clinical. “Perception is the point. Headlines write themselves, Cole. ‘Investment Heir Funds Halfway House Lover With Child.’”
“He’s not my lover,” I said automatically.
My mother’s gaze sharpened. “But you care for him.”
“Yes.”
“But he has nothing.”
