Chapter 8
eight
Reese
“Cole,” I say, my teeth chattering. “Tonight was already asking a lot of you after the whole Bree situation, and now…”
He smiles. “And now you’re forever indebted to me. But we’re still well within the limits of my two-date policy.”
“I would never dare violate the policy.”
“The fines are astronomical.”
I look over at the cabin and let out a sigh that’s stifled by my non-functioning lungs. Am I ready to go back in there? To spend more time in the presence of Megan and Brady? Granted, if we leave in the morning, most of that time everyone will be sleeping, but still… this wasn’t the plan.
“Of course,” I say with another shudder of cold, “this is all dependent upon whether we can make it back to the porch without dying.”
“Challenge accepted.” He puts out his arm like he’s Fitzwilliam Darcy, and I take it much more willingly than Elizabeth Bennet.
With enough time and care, we manage the return journey with our pride and bones intact. We make a good team.
A good fake team, at least.
“Wait,” I say, grabbing his arm before Cole opens the door.
He looks at me expectantly.
“Do we need to…adapt anything?”
One of his brows lifts. “Like what?”
“Like…I don’t know. I’m just…checking in, I guess.”
The corner of his mouth quirks. “I mean, you could be a little less all over me…”
“Oh, be quiet,” I say. “I’m serious.”
His smile fades a little as he looks at me. “I think we’ve been doing a pretty great job. What do you think?”
“I think,” I say, “that if you behaved with Bree anything like you’ve behaved with me tonight, I feel for her a lot more than I did before. You’re scary good at this.”
Is this my pathetic attempt to find out if there’s any part of this that’s not fake?
I dunno. Maybe.
His eyes fix on mine. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, though.
The door opens. “Um, hi, hello.” Tess closes the door a bit as the temperature bites her. “Dylan noticed you guys on the porch. What gives?”
“Well,” I say, “while we were all enjoying 72 degrees and blankets inside, the earth entered the next Ice Age. All the melt from earlier has frozen.”
“I’m already afraid of the dark,” Cole says. “Add in black ice? It’s a no-go.”
“I’m absolutely crushed to hear this news,” Tess says, grinning like Buddy the Elf. She opens the door wider and yells over her shoulder, “They’re staying, everyone!”
The rejoicing is unanimous, though maybe not evenly felt. Brady and Megan smile and welcome us back, but they can’t quite match the excitement levels of the others. I get it. Having me here isn’t ideal for them, either. But it’s just for the night.
The cabin has four bedrooms, which is why it’s always been perfect for our friend group. From what I can gather as we discuss sleeping arrangements, Brady and Megan had been planning to take two of the four bedrooms before Cole and I decided to stay.
“I can crash on the couch,” Brady says.
“Or I can,” Cole offers.
“There’s an air mattress in the upstairs closet,” Hannah throws out there.
“Oh, I can’t do air mattresses.” Brady puts a hand on his back. “My back hates those things.”
I glance at Cole because whose back doesn’t? And Cole’s just took a hit from the ice.
I feel like I should advocate for him here—that’s the role of a fake girlfriend, right?—but he shakes his head gently at me like it’s okay.
“I’ve got the air mattress,” he says.
“Thanks, man,” Brady says. “I’ll give you my serving of bacon at breakfast tomorrow morning.”
“Done,” Cole says.
“There’s plenty of room on the floor for the air mattress in the far bedroom upstairs.” Hannah nods at Cole and me. “You guys can take that room if you’re really okay with sleeping on it, Cole.”
“Yep,” he says. “My back loves it.”
I suppress a smile.
Despite my plan for our unplanned sleepover to consist mostly of sleeping, no one’s quite ready to go to bed.
We all end up snacking and chatting around the kitchen island.
Cole stands behind me, arms wrapped around me, chin on my shoulder, which means I get to feel every laugh that shakes his shoulders.
When he talks, I don’t just hear the words; I experience the vibration of his voice in his chest.
When he talks, everyone smiles, including me. Given how attached some of them are becoming, I may have a friend mutiny on my hands when Cole and I “break up.”
The conversation rolls along steadily until around one when Dylan, who works the graveyard shift, nods off and nearly hits his head on the granite countertop.
Everyone seems to take that as a signal that it’s time to call it a night. In years past, the four of us have stayed up well past three, but not only am I fine to cut things off early tonight, I’m also coming to accept that things have changed for the group.
Before you know it, our crazy single-women Christmas getaways will become quiet evenings where the women knit with cats on our laps, our husbands snore with a war movie blaring on the TV at an obscene volume, and we’re all in bed by nine.
Tyler helps Cole get the air mattress while Hannah grabs two cheap toothbrushes from the stash her family keeps handy, bless their hearts.
I’m brushing my teeth in the en suite bathroom when Cole comes in, arms full of a poorly stored air mattress, the cord for the motor hanging to his knees.
A twinge of guilt pinches my chest. I dragged Cole into this situation, which led to him sustaining injuries out on the ice, and now he has to sleep on an air mattress.
Worst fake girlfriend ever.
I rinse off my toothbrush quickly. “I’m sleeping on that.”
“Nope.”
I walk over and grab the end of the cord, standing in his way. “Cole.”
“Reese.”
“You’re taking the bed.”
“I’m not. I told you—I’m the best boyfriend you’ll ever have, and your boyfriend would never let you take the air mattress instead of the bed.”
“So, you get to be the best boyfriend, and I’m stuck being the worst girlfriend?”
He smiles at me. “Don’t worry. You’re already the best girlfriend I’ve ever had.” He takes the cord from me, stoops down, and plugs it in.
I kneel across the mattress from him and start unfolding it. It’s all warped and weird from every last ounce of air being sucked out of it. “The best fake girlfriend.” I feel the need to make that distinction.
He screws on the pump attachment. “Nope.”
My hands slow. Is he really saying he’s never had a girlfriend?
Like, ever?
Or that he’s just had really bad ones?
“I don’t do relationships,” he says.
My chest tightens, a corner of the blanket limp in my hands. “Hence the two-date policy?”
“Hence that.” He flicks on the switch, and the mattress starts to come to life. He puts out his hands like voilà.
I have so many questions right now, and if I was more than a fake girlfriend, I’d have the right to ask them.
He stands up and puts his hands on his hips casually, like he hasn’t just blown my mind a little bit. “Does this sexy pad come with a pillow or blanket, or am I sleeping bareback tonight?”
Laughing, I go over to the bed, which has more than enough pillows and blankets for the both of us. I toss him two pillows simultaneously, and he somehow catches them both. Two blankets follow—one for beneath, one for on top—and by then the mattress has finished inflating.
“There’s a toothbrush for you in the bathroom,” I say. “I’ll make up the bed for you.”
“I can d—”
“Cole,” I say, pushing him toward the bathroom. “Let me be a good fake girlfriend for two minutes.”
He lets me push him the rest of the way before disappearing into the bathroom.
I let out a breath, staring at the closed door for a few seconds before turning and making up the bed as well as the materials will allow. The whole time, I can’t stop thinking about the last couple of hours.
The tearing up during the movie—twice—the I don’t do relationships comment…they’re messing with the picture of Cole I’ve put together in my head. I don’t know where to fit those oddly shaped pieces.
Once the pillows are in place, I look at the bed I'll be sleeping in. It’s a queen with a fluffy comforter, two large pillows, three throw pillows, and a little stuffed reindeer.
I grab the reindeer and put it on Cole’s bed instead.
The door opens, and he emerges. His gaze flits to the bed, and he cocks a brow.
“Thought you might want the company,” I said. “Since you’re afraid of the dark and all.”
He picks up the reindeer and places it in the crook of his arm like a toddler with a security blanket. “Definitely. Ready for lights out?”
I nod as he walks over to the switch.
He waits until I get under the covers before flipping it.
The image of his smile lingers in front of my eyes in the dark. I stare up at the ceiling, listening to his footsteps, then the sound of the air mattress shifting under his weight.
The shifting stops for a few minutes, then happens again. And again. And again.
“The mattress is miserable, isn’t it?” I finally say.
“No,” he says. “I’m just…hot.”
“Oh. Well, you don’t have to use the blankets I so meticulously placed on your bed if you don’t want to.”
He laughs, and the darkness of the room somehow enhances the sound, like my only active sense is heightened. “I already threw it off a few minutes ago. I usually sleep with…less clothes on.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You can crack a window,” I offer.
“And wake up to you as a popsicle? Not quite a world’s-best-boyfriend move. I’ll really be fine.”
“If you need to shed some clothes so you can get some sleep, just do it, Cole. I promise not to read anything into it.” And yet, my mind has already conjured the image of Cole pulling off his shirt.
“Thanks,” is his amused reply.
There’s no sound of shirts or pants coming off, though. Just silence that lasts minutes until I start to wonder if he’s fallen asleep.
“That thing you said about Bree,” he says. “Did you mean it?”
My brows knit. “What thing?”
“About feeling bad for her.”
I open my mouth, but no words come out for a few seconds. “I was mostly joking. You’re just…very charming, and I guess I can see how she might’ve misinterpreted things.”
More silence.
“I didn’t act with her like I’ve acted with you,” he finally says. “I don’t purposely mess with women’s hearts. I’m not a complete jerk. I just…don’t like getting attached.”
My eyes are trained on the ceiling, and I will myself not to feel anything in response to those words. Cole doesn’t like getting attached. He’s not getting attached. He’s playing his part because tonight’s meant to be for fun, not forever.
But I feel something anyway. Embarrassed, maybe? Because I’m attached to Cole. How can he not feel some sort of attachment to me after today?
“Can I ask you something?” I say.
“Shoot.”
“Why go out with people at all if you’re not interested in relationships?”
It’s quiet. Again. And I’m left with more puzzle pieces that don’t fit anywhere. The Cole I know always has a response.
“It seems a little like ordering food in a restaurant and then smelling it instead of eating it,” I continue.
“You don’t do that?” There’s a smile in his voice.
“I try not to torture myself.”
“Exactly why I don’t do relationships.”
A scoffing laugh erupts from my mouth. “Relationships shouldn’t be torture. The opposite.”
“You telling me it didn’t hurt when Braden broke up with you?”
My smile fades. “Brady,” I say, more out of a need to stall than because I care what he calls him.
“Did it hurt?”
I hesitate, remembering the tight feeling in my chest when Brady told me he thought we’d be better off as friends. It’s the same feeling I get when I look at him and Megan. It’s this deep sense of…rejection and being left behind. So deep it rumbles in my bones. “Yeah, it hurt.”
A few seconds tick by before Cole says anything. “Were you expecting it?”
My heart twinges. “No. But maybe that was for the best. I don’t know what’s worse. Expecting it or not expecting it.”
“Not expecting it.”
I turn my head in Cole’s direction, but I can only see the vaguest outline of his body and a pile of discarded blankets next to him. There’s a story behind those words. Not just a story. There’s pain, and I want so badly to know more.
“That’s why I’m always clear with women that I’m not looking for a relationship,” he says.
He’s definitely been clear with me, that’s for sure. “Has your two-date policy done its job? Or have you ever gotten attached despite it?”
The silence that follows is longer than it should be. “Just once.”
My heart skips a beat, and I know why. There’s a name behind that response, and my heart is hoping it’s mine.
“What time do you wanna head out tomorrow?” he asks.
Apparently, our pillow talk is over. In his mind, he’s already driving home.
I’d been thinking we could leave first thing, but there’s no way the ice will be melted by then. “Whenever it’s safe, I guess?” I grab my phone and pull up the weather app. The hour-by-hour temperature breakdown makes my stomach sink. “Based on the forecast, it’s not looking great.”
“When will it warm up?”
I scroll farther, watching for the temperature to tip above freezing. “You don’t wanna know. ”
“I do.”
I bite my lip. “Sunday afternoon.”
“Sunday afternoon it is,” he says, sounding unconcerned. He must not be too worried about the risk of getting attached.
I shouldn’t worry about it, either. But we’re past risk now.
I’m attached, and I’m a little worried what it’ll feel like to detach.