“Cool your jets,” he says, but his voice is tight, as though something is worrying him. “Jane’s fine. No one has called me, and besides, the school would call you first.”
He’s right, but I’ve hit a couple of pockets of no service, so it’s not outside the realm of possibility for me to have missed a call. “Sorry. I’m just a little jumpy about Jane these days.”
“Yeah, well maybe you have good reason to be.”
My heart skips a beat. “What makes you say that?”
“Listen.” He lowers his voice, “You didn’t hear this from me, okay?”
“Okay…” I say hesitantly.
“I’ve heard the Labelles are filing paperwork to take you to court for full custody.”
My heart not only skips another beat, but falls to the floorboard of my truck. If this damn road weren’t so curvy and actually had a shoulder, I’d pull over to the side of the road. “So they’re actually doing it.”
“Yeah,” he says quietly, then a hard edge fills his voice. “But we’ll fight this with everything we’ve got, Cole.”
The fact that he includes himself in the fight fills my chest with warmth. “They won’t get it,” I say with more conviction than I feel. “But they can make it a long, ugly battle. One that costs a fortune.”
“But you said Rory would help,” he says. “You’re not going to lose everything.”
“Yeah.” Rory’s not only offered—he’sinsisted, telling me he has more money than he can ever spend in several lifetimes. It feels wrong to use him to fight for my daughter, but I certainly don’t have the money to fight them. I’ll have to sell the brewery…
I have an offer for the brewery. Something tries to surface in my head but doesn’t quite make it, because Logan chimes in, “If you don’t call Rory and tell him, I will.”
“I’ll call him,” I say, but my voice sounds a million miles away. “Hey, how did you find out?”
“Maybe it pays to sleep with the wrong person,” he says bitterly, then hangs up.
I spend the drive worrying about a whole host of things, which is foreign to me. I’m usually a go-with-the-flow guy, but there’s no doubt I have a lot to worry about. Stupidly, I’m concerned I’m not going to the right place to meet Cherrybomb, despite Brittany’s logic, but I can’t think of where else she could be sending me. Then there’s the question of why I’m going through with this meet-and-greet anyway with everything else going on in my life. But I still feel this weird need to meet her. I have to know what she looks like so I’ll see her face in my dreams and not Holly’s.
An image of Holly pops into my head, or rather the feel of her lips on mine. The scent of her shampoo. The feeling of her lush body pressed against me. She confused the hell out of me yesterday, but I quickly caught on.
I don’t want Holly…right? She drives me crazy. She does itpurposefully.
Sure, I’ve been dreaming of her. And okay, so I jacked off in the shower this morning, but hello, I’m a guy. It would be abnormal if I hadn’t. I’m interested in Cherrybomb. She’s the woman I want, and as soon as I officially meet her, all thoughts of Holly will be banished from my head.
This is going to work. Besides, there’s nothing I can do at this moment to stop the Labelles, so I might as well focus on something I can control: meeting Cherrybomb. I take several deep breaths like I see Brittany do when she’s super stressed, even though I’ve teased her mercilessly about turning New Age on me. I’ll be damned if I don’t feel more centered and calmer when I’m done.
I’m ready to face my future. At least in regard to Cherrybomb. You eat an elephant one bite at a time, just like Cherrybomb said the other day.
See? She’s helping me too.
Thankfully, the parking lot is fairly empty because it’s a little past noon on a weekday. I head over to the gondola and purchase a pricey ticket to the top.
I sure hope this is worth it.
I step into the gondola car, and while I’m thankful I don’t have to ride with anyone else, the ride seems to take forever, and I was already anxious to begin with. When I finally reach the top, I hop out of the car and head toward the restaurant. Propane heaters are spread across the outdoor seating area, and even though it’s chilly, there are multiple diners seated at the tables. I stand to the side, suddenly feeling hesitant to go through with this. What if she’s sixty-five years old? What if she has a giant wart on the end of her nose, and that’s all I can look at? What if she has a creepy doll collection?
Oh shit. The Labelles have a creepy doll room, so it’s completely within the realm of possibility that she lines dolls around her bedroom.
Why didn’t I think to ask her if she has a secret doll collection?
Too late for that now.
I search the tables for a woman dining alone, and then I see someone on the opposite side. Her back is to me, but she’s wearing a short white fur coat, a pair of tan slacks, and tan stiletto heels.
Fuck me. Please don’t let that prissy pants be Cherrybomb.
