He answered everything easily, until she asked about a crush. He tried to deny having one.The girls at his school are dumb.
But then Jordan started telling him stories about us. How we’d write notes to each other and fold them up into stupid shapes. About our first kiss in the B hall. How a crowd gathered, even though it was just a peck.
He finally gave in—Abby, an eighth grader.
Jordan’s so good with him. Natural in a way you can’t fake.
It’s not the first time I’ve seen her with Cole, but tonight it hit differently. I’d never really looked at Jordan as a mother before.
Tonight, I couldn’t stop.
It was our first real trial run at what this could look like if we were a family.
And I loved every minute of it.
Which is fucking terrifying.
Because Cole may end up with Cece.
Jordan will most likely want a divorce the second this is over.
And I’ll be left alone in my penthouse, missing the same damn thing I always have.
Again.
Fifteen minutes later, Cole’s standing in my office doorway.
“Matt?” he asks, hesitant, like he’s afraid of bothering me.
I look up from my computer. “What’s up buddy?”
He holds out the controller from his new PlayStation. “Here. My dad always had me give him my controllers at night. I didn’t know if you wanted that, too.”
The urges to smile and cry hit me at the same time. I force the smile.
Christ. I fucking miss him.
Our eyes meet. I’m not sure what he’s asking for here, what he’s needing.
“Do you want to give it to me?” I ask, letting him take the lead.
He starts to nod, then stops, shaking his head instead. “No,” he says quietly.
Okay… I expected him to say yes. Take the routine. Something familiar.
I lean back in my chair, giving it a moment. “Alright,” I say slowly. “You can keep your controllers. I trust you.”
Relief flashes across his face. “Thanks, Uncle Matt. Goodnight.”
“Night.”
My eyes squeeze shut the second he’s out of sight, and I swallowhard as the emotion crashes in out of fucking nowhere. I rub at the corner of my eyes, breathing through it.
God. It’s a lot.
The pressure. The responsibility. This anxiety I don’t know how to live with.
And then there’s her.
