Chapter 35
Ariana
REAL-LIFE FAIRYTALE
This is a real date.
It has to be. Especially when there was no need to perform because we were the only ones in the bookstore.
And not just any bookstore, a romance-only bookstore that Cole managed to discover before me.
How could anything ever top this?
Now we’re on to the second part of the date, and I can’t imagine what he has planned. It’s already the best date I’ve ever been on and it’s not even over.
“Thank you for the books,” I tell him as we get back on the main drag through town.
Evelyn wrapped them up so nicely I almost don’t want to put them on my shelf when I get home.
“And renting out an entire bookstore just for our date,” I add.
I don’t know what to say, I’m feeling tongue-tied. Nervous. Which is silly, really. I’ve literally been naked with Cole. But none of the words coming out of my mouth feel sufficient to express just how special that was to me.
“I was hoping you’d like it,” he says, a rare softness to his voice.
Maybe I’m imagining it, but I think he might be just as nervous as I am. Cole Benton, nervous? The thought has the tightening in my stomach loosening like ribbons untangling and blowing in the breeze.
We sit in an easy, comfortable silence as the town slips by. The moon hangs high and bright overhead, its light glinting off the wet pavement where the last of the snow has melted.
Cole turns down a private, tree-lined road. I have no idea where it leads but my excitement mounts regardless. At this point I don’t even care what he has planned for the next part of our date. I’m just happy to spend time with him like this.
No one has ever put in this much effort for me. Even my family—who are loving and amazing—have shared so much between Layla and me. Shared birthdays. Shared milestones. And Layla has always been the more exceptional one. As proud as I am of her, it’s easy to feel overlooked. Forgotten, sometimes.
It’s no wonder my feelings for Cole have become real.
I just hope I’m not the only one who’s fallen—fallen to the point it feels like my heart might burst. The only thing holding me back from being honest with him is that nagging little voice in my head reminding me, very clearly, that we want different things.
If he does reciprocate my feelings like I think he might, does that mean there’s actually a future for us? Because if he’s still averse to commitment then what’s the point of dragging this out any longer?
I’m not going to be with someone with one foot out the door, just waiting for the next shiny object to catch his eye. It’s a recipe for heartbreak, and one that would hurt so much more if we let this become a genuine relationship, knowing it was never built to last.
“So, you might be disappointed by this next part,” Cole says, interrupting my thoughts. “I thought it was a good idea, but now I’m second-guessing myself,” he admits, his voice wavering from his usual air of confidence.
Sometimes Cole is so in control of himself it’s intimidating.
He doesn’t let many people see the man behind the curtain, but catching those fleeting slips—the beautifully flawed human beneath the layers of tailored clothing and charming wit—feels like a privilege.
Being trusted with the pieces of himself he keeps carefully guarded from the rest of the world does nearly unbearable things to my heart.
I place my hand over his, the smoothness of my palm against the tough skin wrapping his knuckles. The juxtaposition of the size difference has my lips lifting. “I promise I’m going to love it.”
His expression melts into something more tender, eyes crinkling at the corners, a vulnerability to his features that has a swarm of butterflies starting to take flight in my belly.
My hand remains over his and his eyes return to the road, but the butterflies don’t subside.
A few minutes later, we pull up to a house I don’t recognize. The closer we get, the more I realize it’s not just any regular house. Cole’s headlights sweep over it, bringing everything into view.
It looks like something out of a fairy tale—too whimsical to be real, and yet there it is, solid and standing right in front of me.
The structure sags and curves in all the wrong places, as if it were shaped by hand instead of built. The white stucco walls bulge slightly beneath a low, swooping roof, shingles layered unevenly over one another, giving the whole place a weathered, enchanted feel.
It’s remarkable, actually. I’ve never seen anything like it in person. I didn’t even know something like this could exist outside of animated illustrations.
“What is this place?”
“It’s a house,” Cole says simply, like it’s just any house. Though his subtle smirk says otherwise.
“Are we staying here? Is it some kind of attraction—like a museum or something?”
“It’s ours for the night.”
He gets out and comes around to get my door, his hand slipping into mine as he helps me step down.
The path to the front door is lined with small lanterns, each one casting a warm pool of light on the stone walkway beneath our feet.
Cole unlocks the door and pushes it open.
Inside it’s just as whimsical, like the Seven Dwarfs themselves might call this place home.
All the details are exactly as I would expect them to be inside a house fit for the forest of a magical kingdom—wooden floors, fanciful hand-carved furniture, walls made of stone. In the sitting area there are blankets and pillows laid out on the floor, a woven picnic basket in the middle.
It’s literally a fairy tale. Cole created a real-life fairy tale date just for me.
I look over at him, with his hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders hunched. “I know,” he says with a groan. “It’s so cheesy. It sounded a lot better in my head. I don’t know what I’m doing, doll.”
Before he can continue on this train of doubt, I throw myself at him, arms circling his neck. “You should probably shut up because this is amazing. It’s beyond amazing.”
Cole sweeps me off my feet and plops me on the kitchen counter, standing between my parted legs. My dress is long enough to not put anything on display but it feels wildly inappropriate to sit with my legs spread for him wearing a dainty little satin dress.
I let my coat slip off my shoulders and drape beneath me.
He holds my jaw gently in his palms, his eyes boring into mine. “You really like it? Because I can be normal and take you to a nice restaurant and show you off since you’re wearing such a beautiful dress.”
“I’m wearing this dress for you. And we can go on a dinner date anytime. But a picnic dinner in a house worthy of a princess is a million times better.”
Any random guy off the street can throw together a standard dinner date. This took time and thought. He specifically curated a date with my interests in mind. If that’s not swoon-worthy, I don’t know what is.
He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear, the tips of his fingers sending a shockwave of shivers down my spine.
Just when I think he’s going to kiss me, his gaze turns pensive as his forehead tips against mine, his breathing shaky.
“I thought I could wait, but I can’t. I can’t hold it in anymore. ”
His tone carries an undercurrent of foreboding, causing me to tense, my stomach sinking like a stone.
“What is it?” I hesitate to ask but force myself to anyway.
He’s regarding me so seriously I can’t help the worry that strikes me. I hold my breath for several seconds, hoping my heart isn’t about to be shattered.
“This isn’t working for me anymore.” His whisper fans my lips, the words sounding as pained as they feel when they hit me square in the chest and break it all open.
My body immediately recoils, trying to scoot away, head shaking despite the hold he has on me. Why would he do all this just to end it? Why go to these lengths?
“Wait. Fuck! I’m doing this all wrong.” His words are exasperated, his fingertips digging into the flesh of my hips, preventing me from getting away from him.
I push against his shoulder but he doesn’t budge.
“Ariana! Stop.” He grabs hold of my face with a gentleness in opposition of the warring emotions storming within me.
With no other choice, I’m forced to look into his eyes.
“Baby, you gotta let me finish.” His thumbs brush over my cheekbones with a tender touch.
“I don’t want to fake it anymore with you because I want to really be with you.
Not for show, not for the wedding. For real. Just you and me.”
My chest rises like the swell of a wave in the expanse between us.
I want to believe everything he’s saying, but my mind can be an ugly place sometimes and right now it’s trying to convince me there’s no way this is real.
It’s a cruel joke. It has to be. He can’t possibly want to be with me as much as I want to be with him, can he?
The weight of his forehead settles over mine again, eyes remaining locked on me. We’re so close I swear our eyelashes are sweeping over one another.
“Please say something.” It’s a quiet plea that I wouldn’t recognize as coming from Cole if he wasn’t standing right in front of me.
I swallow, gathering the courage to speak. “What about not wanting a future with someone and not doing relationships? Am I supposed to believe all that just changed?”
“Yes,” he confesses. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing so you’re going to have to be patient with me, but you’re the best part of my day.
You’re the best part of everything. My favorite person, actually.
I want to be the guy for you, not the guy you practice with while you’re waiting for someone better.
Let me be better. I can make you happy, baby. I promise. Please just let me.”
My heart stutters. It’s everything I want to hear yet I fear it’s still too good to be true. My gaze drifts from his face to his shirt to his belt all the way down to his shoes, anywhere that isn’t those infinite blue eyes. “How do I know what you’re saying is really true?”