Chapter 3
COLE
Having freshened up, I’m excitedly making my way back to my seat.
There’s a spring in my step I haven’t had in what feels like forever, and while I don’t usually give a shit about how my hair looks, when I checked myself out in the mirror, I swept back my longer hair on top of my head, which looked like I hadn’t even brushed it this morning, even though I had, several times, trying to make it look effortless. I’m still not sure it’s sitting right.
“Did you miss me?” I ask Mina, casually, even though my adrenaline has kicked in and is at an all-time high.
She watches me closely as I sit down and fasten my seat belt around my waist again.
“Did you want me to miss you?” she counters, throwing shade my way.
Oh, she’s toying with me.
“Maybe,” I admit.
“Good answer.” Mina unclenches her fist to reveal her phone number written on a small piece of paper she must have pulled from her purse.
“And for that, you shall be rewarded.” She hands it to me, and I almost punch the fucking air from how excited I am to have her number.
It’s the only one I’ve ever cared about or wanted before.
“Don’t ghost me,” she says confidently.
My voice cracks slightly when I lift the number out of her palm.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” I plan on calling her tonight, and I don’t care how excited I look.
She’s the first woman who’s made me want to ask her out on a date and not through one of those stupid fucking apps that don’t seem to match me to the right person.
If Mina doesn’t pick up, I’ll know she’s not interested. But she wouldn’t have given me her number otherwise. Or am I wrong?
I guess there’s only one way to find out and that is by calling her later.
The last thing I want to do is ask her out on a date now, as she might feel pressured to say yes.
When I do call her, it will show her I’m serious, a real gentleman, and someone who doesn’t delay or play games. But I also want to act respectfully and give her time and space to consider whether she likes me enough to go on a date. She might hate me by the end of the flight.
Given our unique circumstances, she may change her mind after we disembark, and the last thing I want is any remnants of her anxiety to cloud her judgment about me, one way or the other.
“Have you ever ghosted anyone?” I ask, genuinely intrigued as I tuck her number into the front pocket of my jeans.
“Once.” She pivots subtly in her seat, turning toward me, the hum of the plane continuing around us.
“What led you to ghost him?” I ask, mirroring her, turning slightly in my seat to face her. She’s much more beautiful to look at and better than any action movie I’ve ever watched. Sorry, Jason.
She screws her face up as if disgusted before eventually spilling the tea. “He told me, after one date, that he placed a GPS tracker on his ex’s car without her knowing.”
“Stalker vibes.”
“Crazy vibes, more like. He sent me twenty-three text messages after the date, and when I didn’t reply, he followed up with a dick pic to convince me he was my destiny.” She makes a short, sharp, dismissive tsk in annoyance.
Fuck me. That’s a lot. “Dating sucks.” I’ve never sent a dick pic, though I’ve had a few unsolicited nudes sent to me.
Which is fine, empowering and all that if that’s what people like to do, but nope; unless I really know someone, it’s a no from me.
Also, I wouldn’t trust that person, whom I don’t know all that well, not to share photos of me naked, especially with the job I do. It’s too risky.
“Dating does suck.” Mina sighs, sounding like she has experience with the dating scene.
“So, you don’t have a boyfriend then?” I didn’t think to ask that before requesting her number.
“I wouldn’t have given you my number if I did.” Her lips lift at the corners.
“You already have better morals than my ex, then.” Why the hell did I mention her? Fuck. Shit. Fuck.
Mina leans in a bit, angling her body toward me, her eyebrows knitting together with concern. “Did she screw you over?”
“Screwed around more like.” With my best friend. I keep that part to myself.
She inhales a sharp gasp. “I’m so sorry, Cole.” The warmth in her voice is genuine.
“Don’t feel sorry for me. I saw the signs, I think. Deep down, I knew but didn’t ever for a minute think she would cheat on me. But hey, I was wrong.”
“Have you seen her since you broke up?”
I shake my head in response. “The last I heard, she left the city after her father caught her screwing his best friend at his country club.” It seems she has a habit of damaging friendships.
I guess her father finally recognized how selfish and spoiled she’s become, which was entirely his fault; he created a monster he could no longer control.
Although she always believed she could do or say anything without facing consequences.
But her luck ran out after he cut her off, along with her privileges like her credit cards and allowances, no doubt.
I also cut all ties entirely, blocking her and my supposed best friend on social media, my phone, and email.
Their betrayal cut deep, especially when I realized it wasn’t a one-time thing and they’d been hooking up behind my back for months.
They didn’t just stab me in the back; they twisted the knife, leaving a scar on my heart.
I decided I never wanted to speak to or see either of them again, as that was the only way to stay sane.
Catching her screwing my best friend in my fucking bed was bad enough, but what hurt the most was realizing I wasn’t enough for her and that he was never the good friend I believed him to be, exposing my poor judgment of character.
“I hope you don’t blame yourself for her indiscretions, Cole.”
I find it so easy to open up to Mina, so I confess, “I did for a long time after.” Now all I have is this deep-seated resentment toward them for what they did and toward myself for not paying attention to my gut when I knew something was off.
“I think you still feel it now,” Mina states matter-of-factly.
“Yeah?” I ask how she figured that I do to some degree.
She lifts her hand to her face and draws a line with her finger across the curve of her jaw. “Your muscles tighten, here, when you talk about her.” She points to the space below her ear. “You need to let it go, or it will drive you crazy.”
“You’re right.” I can’t keep carrying this spite around like the devil is on my back. It’s unhealthy. “It was a long time ago.” Three years have passed. “I don’t love her.” Why am I telling Mina that? Shut up, Cole.
“You might not love her anymore but when it comes to matters of the heart, we’re a lot like elephants.”
I hunch my brows together in confusion and ask, “Elephants?”
She taps her pointer finger to her temple. “We have extraordinary memories that often lead to never forgetting.”
“I wish my dad had the memory of an elephant,” I confess out loud, not meaning to and wishing I could take it back.
Fuck, what’s going on with me today? First, I nearly kissed a stranger; then I confided in her about my ex; now I’m sharing details about my dad.
Someone, stop me.
“Explain,” Mina presses inquisitively, her head tilted to one side.
I clear my throat and give it to her straight because there’s no easy way to say it. “My dad is in a care home.” I keep his diagnosis of dementia and Parkinson’s to myself. It’s been a difficult couple of years for my mom and brothers; worst of all for my dad.
Saying it’s been a huge learning curve would be an understatement. From medications to symptoms, none of us knew anything about either disease, and getting him the right care was pivotal.
He’s in great hands now and the facility is the top memory home in the state, but watching a strong man fade away, turning into someone you no longer recognize, is not only heartbreaking but cruel. His personality and features have all but disappeared.
It hit my brother, Eli, the hardest as he was closer to him than all of us. He thinks I don’t see how much he’s struggling, but I do. We all do.
And Mom? Well, she’s thrown herself into the ranch she planned to spend her retirement on with Dad, and instead built a solid reputation, making it the go-to venue for weddings.
She and Eli are very similar, and though they can’t see it themselves, they use the ultimate form of distraction… work… and never come up for air.
“If he’s in a care home, he’s in the best place he can be,” Mina reassures me, but the guilt I felt when we first moved him there almost overwhelmed me.
“I know.” My voice cracks; my emotions threaten to surface. If it hadn’t been for me, my brothers, and my mom supporting each other, we wouldn’t have gotten through it. I rub my nose and look away, not wanting my sadness to spill over, and I cough to clear the tension in my throat.
“Do you have any siblings?” Mina asks.
“Brothers.” I’m vague in my reply, but relieved at her change in conversation direction. “I’m the youngest,” I offer. Or in the words of my brothers, I’m a mamma’s boy.
“And that means you are…” She fishes for my age.
“I’m thirty-two.” I know it’s not appropriate to ask a woman her age, but Mina looks so young, and I need to make sure she’s not too young. “And you are?”
“Twenty-nine. I turn thirty in a few months.”
I would have put her at twenty-two, at most. She’s clearly got great DNA. “I’m not just saying this to flatter you, but you do not look thirty.”
“I’m not. Not yet,” she retorts playfully, a small smile shaping her lips. “And my mom is Moroccan. She also looks much younger than her age and often gets mistaken for my sister.”
Called it. Mina has fucking epic genes. Long, jet-black hair that looks like glass it’s so shiny, midnight-dark eyes and sculpted high cheekbones.
She’s a fucking smoke show.
I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful. She radiates sensuality, pure seduction in motion, and is dangerously attractive. And that voice of hers drips with an allure I’m drawn to like a moth to a flame.