“I’ve been pushing people away for years,” he continues. “And you… I think part of me always felt guilty because I wanted to ask you out before Millie and I got together, and then last year…”
I lift his hand to my mouth and kiss it, my eyes on him. “Last year I goaded you into pushing me against a wall and kissing me.”
“You didn’t have to goad me into anything.” Reaching around with the hand I kissed, he weaves it into my hair and pushes me forward for a kiss, making it count. It’s such a relief to have his mouth on me again, to soak him in and know that he’s mine now—he’s really mine.
I pull away. “Talking about emotions doesn’t come easily to me either,” I say, “but we’ll do it together. We seemed to talk easily enough as Hot Rod and Cherrybomb. When I figured out it was you…it helped me tell you some of the things I’ve struggled to share.”
“Like that woman you saw me with at that bar,” he says. I have to give him props—he clearly didn’t want to mention it, but he did anyway.
“Like that,” I agree. “I didn’t deal with it very maturely.”
“Neither did I. I…you were right to say it was a mistake…kissing that night. Because I wasn’t ready for you yet, Holly. But I couldn’t get you out of my head. So I tried the only way I knew how. It didn’t—”
I take his hand, not wanting him to continue, for his sake and mine.
“It’s okay. You’re right. We both needed to be ready. Still, maybe we should keep our profiles on the app, and we can use them to talk through shit when it’s too hard to do it in person.”
“Let’s call it a last resort,” he says, tugging me closer. “Because I plan to be a better man for you, Holly Mayberry, and if that means being a bit uncomfortable sometimes, then so be it. You know, I realized something today. I think Millie would be happy to see us together. You make me happy. You make Jane happy. That’s what she’d care about.”
I reach into my pocket and pull out the Crunch bar, a little warm, as it should be. “You just earned half of this, you know.” I crack it in half and offer one side to him.
He looks from me to the bar and then takes a small bite. I take a larger bite of my side. It’s a bit chalky and overly sweet, but maybe that’s because I just ate a huge slice of the best chocolate cream pie I’ve ever had in my life. The slightly pained look on Cole’s face says I’m not alone in having developed a better palate than my teenage self.
“Symbolically this is fucking awesome,” he says, “but I’m so stuffed I can’t eat another bite.”
“True,” I say, setting my piece aside. He does the same. “And if we could, we should really save it for another round of pie. I meant it about the Tupperware. Those suckers are coming home with us.”
He studies me for a second, his eyes full of that liquid warmth, and then he takes both of my hands and presses them to his heart again. “I love you, Holly Mayberry. You are one hell of a woman.”
“You just want to get into my pants,” I tease.
“Obviously,” he says. “I’ve wanted to get into your pants for years, but I care more about being in your heart.”
My hands still pressed to his chest, I lean forward and give him a soft kiss. “You’ve always been there.”
