Chapter 18 #3
He shakes his head, cutting over me. "No.
I mean, yes, if you hadn't shown up and been top of mind for me, would I have said your name by accident like I did?
Not likely. But Heidi and I would never have been anything more than friends with benefits.
Not ever, no matter what. She's a wonderful, beautiful, intelligent woman.
But her heart is just not available. It never will be.
No matter what I may or may not have felt, she would never have been able to offer me anything more than what we had.
" He shrugs. "And I'm coming to realize that I would never have been able to offer her or anyone else anything more than what I felt for her—affection, respect, care, whatever words you wanna use.
What I feel for you is…to say it's so much deeper than that is…
it's not—it doesn't come close to capturing the depths of my feelings, Lace. "
I blink hard. "God, Cole."
"I'm just saying, I get it. How it would have felt nice to be wanted. I get it."
I let out a shaky exhale. "He took care of me.
It was gradual. I'd been trading up cars for years as I could.
My first car was a 1993 Geo Metro, and it was hit-or-miss if it'd get me to work and school on time without taking a shit.
And then it was a 2001 Dodge Stratus that was only marginally better.
By the time I met Eddie, I was driving a 2007 Ford Focus that only had occasional electrical gremlins.
Well, about three or four months into dating Eddie, my Focus took a shit on 696.
I was under the hood on the shoulder, trying to figure out why it just died.
We were supposed to be meeting in Birmingham for dinner, as he had court in Southfield and I worked downtown and lived in Hazel Park. "
Cole shrugs. "I don't know any of those places."]
"Doesn't matter," I tell him. "He actually passed me, realized it was me, made a loop and picked me up.
He was so pissed off that I was on the side of the freeway trying to fix my own car in the middle of a February snowstorm that he told me to just leave the car there and let someone steal it.
So I did. I asked him how I was getting to work on Monday, and he told me just wait and see.
Well, Sunday afternoon, he showed up at my apartment with a brand new Mercedes C-class on a flatbed. "
"Because a struggling young lawyer who works for the state can afford the insurance on a Mercedes," Cole says, his tone snide.
I snort. "Yeah, no fucking way. But that was how it started. He paid for my car insurance. And then he paid six months of my rent just out of the blue. And then he got me a new phone when mine fell out of my back pocket into the toilet.”
Cole's expression is sympathetic. "The lobster who doesn't feel the water heating up till it's too late."
I snort again. “Exactly. He never acted outright like he expected anything for it until it was too late.”
"But…?" he prompts.
"But I felt the expectations. They were unspoken but very real. When he needed me to get gussied up to be his date to a party at his office one night, I didn't feel like I had much choice. I felt like shit that night—I was on day two of my period. Not sure if that means anything to you or not."
Cole snickers. "I've never been married, but I've been close enough to enough women to know that day two of your period is the worst."
I nod. “Right. Exactly. Well, I went to the party. I wore the expensive dress he bought me. I put on the jewelry he bought me. I hung on his arm and smiled at his colleagues."
Cole gives me a complicated look. "I can honestly see you being good at that kind of thing. And I do mean that as a compliment."
I smile. "Oh, I am. I'm very good at it. And he recognized that. His wooing of me really ramped up after that. More dates, more gifts. Love bombing. The whole nine yards."
Cole just listens, now.
"I…I just let it happen. I think down deep, I knew Eddie was hiding some less-than-stellar personality traits. I'd seen them pop up now and then—I visited him at work one day, and witnessed him chewing out a paralegal for some totally minor thing."
"Just curious, but what kind of law does he practice?"
"He's your stereotypical defense attorney. Fast talking, brash, confident, kinda smarmy, if you know what I mean? He wheedles. He's like the luxury version of a used car salesman, except he wears three thousand dollar suits, and what he's selling is reasonable doubt."
Cole laughs. "I know the type. That's not all defense attorneys, though."
I roll my eyes. "No, Cole, and I know that. I did say that he's the stereotype of one."
"True."
"He was offering a life where I didn't have to struggle.
" My eyes burn, and shame is acidic in my gut.
"I sold my soul and my body to a filthy, philandering fuck, and in exchange I gave up my career, my dream, my personality, and everything that made me who I was.
He didn't like that I swore, said it was low-class, even though he cursed like a sailor when he was drinking and playing cards with his lawyer bros.
So I stopped cursing around him. He didn't want me to work so I could take care of the home and just…
be his wife, I guess. I suppose in his mind I was going to be a wife and mom. The mom part just never happened."
Cole is quiet, looking away and thinking, then turns his gaze back to me. "Did he…does he know about your…about our…about Maia?"
I let out a sharp, short sigh, nodding. "Yes. He knew that I'd been pregnant and gave the child up for adoption, but that's it. And he never really expressed any interest in the subject beyond that. Except to make shitty comments about my stretch marks and saggy belly skin and droopy boobs."
Cole's expression darkens. "Motherfucker."
I sniff a sad, sarcastic laugh. "He was…
the mixed messaging from him really fucked with my head.
On one hand, he was super proud to parade me around on his arm like a prize heifer at the county fair, especially after he insisted I do this.
" I cup my chest; Cole, to his credit, keeps his eyes locked on mine.
"He loved going to black-tie events with me.
Getting me all done up in jewels and big hair and skanky dresses.
He liked watching other men drool over me, especially when the other man was a rival or colleague, knowing they couldn't have me.
But then at the same time, he was really fucking critical of me.
He could tell if I gained a few pounds and he'd get on my case to lose it.
He made me try everything there was to minimize the stretch marks.
And the boobs, because what I had just wasn't enough for him. "
Cole shakes his head. "That's fucking wild, Lace. I just cannot fathom looking at a woman like you and thinking, God, you know what that woman needs? Bigger boobs."
I sputter. "Doesn't every man think that about every woman, all the time?"
"I dunno, I'm not every man, but I don't. I mean, yeah, tits are fantastic.
But I've never been a bigger-is-always-better kind of person.
You were fucking breathtaking at eighteen, and I guarantee you were breathtaking at twenty-five and thirty, and you'll be breathtaking at forty and sixty and a hundred and ten.
Because you're a beautiful person, Lacey. "
"So what are your thoughts about these?" I ask. "Legitimately."
He shakes his head. "Lace, babe. You can't figure that out?
" he shakes his head again, sighing, looking at me in a way that somehow communicates you're a very silly woman in a gentle, teasing, loving sort of way.
"Speaking purely as a hot-blooded heterosexual male with a healthy appreciation for the female form, your breasts are fucking stunning.
They turn me on. I can't ever get enough of them. I never will."
"But?" I prompt. "It sounds like there was a 'but' in there."
"But…I would never have even considered the idea of you getting a breast augmentation, Lacey. Again, just speaking as a male who had the immense privilege of experiencing the glory of your breasts as a young woman, you absolutely did not need one."
"You didn't see them postpartum."
"Do you really think I'd have given a shit?"
My heart flutters. "No. Not really." I glance at him. "Wait, I have an idea. Can I borrow your phone?"
He nods. "Yeah, one sec." He leaves the bed and swaggers out of the room, returning with his phone, which he tosses to me. "Zero-five-one-eight-nine-two."
I stare at him for a second, taken aback. "You're giving me your phone code?"
He returns my stare, his blank—almost uncomprehending. "Lacey, I'd tell you my ATM PIN. You wanna know it? Three-seven-two-one. Middle two and first two of my soc." He says the last word sosh.
"Cole—"
"What secrets do you think I have from you, Lacey? I can't give you any of the passwords or logins for my stuff as Sheriff, obviously, but other than that…what do you want to know?"
I look at the lock screen: a selfie of Cole, Felix, Nyx, and Riley from fairly recently—last summer maybe—at what appears to be Secret Beach, the men all in very short swim trunks and sunglasses, holding cans of beer, grinning like fools.
God, those four men aged like fine wine.
I unlock the phone—his home screen is a color gradient based on the lock screen.
"So," I say, eying him. "I could just open your photos and swipe through them? You wouldn't mind?"
He shrugs. "Nope," he chuckles. "If only because I've never taken a nude. Been sent a few, here and there, but after I stop seeing the women who send them, I delete them."
I blink at him. "Really?"
HE nods, shrugging. "Sure. Obviously. Seems like a dick move to hang on to them…for what? To jerk off to? Not my thing."
"What do you jerk off to?" I ask.
He looks away. "Ahhhh…"
I shake my hands, palms out. "Sorry, sorry. Not my business. Forget I asked."
"You, Lace. I told you that in my office."