Chapter Nineteen
DENIAL IS A FULL-TIME JOB
Andi
The sunlight is rude.
Like, offensively bright. Blinding. And I can’t even blame a hangover, because I only had one glass of champagne last night.
Maybe a sip or two of bourbon. Definitely not enough to explain why my head feels like a blender on low speed and my chest is doing that stupid tight thing where breathing feels like work.
I groan, bury my face in the pillow, and will the memories to stop bombarding me.
But they won’t leave.
Cole’s mouth.
Cole’s hands.
The way he looked at me like I was the only person in the room, like he’d been waiting forever just to kiss me and finally got permission.
Damn him.
Beef jumps on the bed like he owns the place, flopping down with a huff and a wet nose shoved into my arm. I peek one eye open and catch him judging me.
“I know,” I mutter, pushing myself up. “I’m a disaster.”
He yawns in agreement.
I pad into the kitchen, barefoot, still wearing the oversized T-shirt and sweats I yanked on after stripping out of that sparkly death-trap dress. My hair’s a mess, makeup half-smudged because I was too distracted to take it off last night.
I blame Cole for that too.
Coffee. I need coffee. Maybe caffeine can reboot my brain. Make everything make sense again.
As the machine sputters to life, I grab Beef’s leash and he charges for the front door.
While I wait with Beef outside, my brain replays every second from last night. The gala, the auction, the way Cole didn’t hesitate to bid on me. Like I was a prize worth winning.
And that kiss.
God, that kiss.
My fingers twitch, like they remember exactly where they were tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer, needing more.
This is bad. Really bad.
I don’t do this. I don’t get wrapped up. I don’t feel... whatever this is. Especially not for guys who show up at galas in tuxedos and steal kisses in stairwells like they’ve been waiting for me all along. It’s like a sappy rom-com.
Except this is my real life.
Beef finishes and we head back inside. I hang up the leash just in time for the coffee machine to beep. I pour myself a cup with shaky hands.
I can’t. I won’t.
This isn’t me.
I’m halfway through my first sip when my phone buzzes.
Shay.
Shay: SOOOOOO???
I groan, thumb hovering over the keyboard.
Me: What do you want?
She responds instantly.
Shay: DETAILS. NOW.
Me: It was fine.
Shay: Girl. Try again.
I stare at the screen. How do I even begin to explain?
That I didn’t just kiss Cole—I melted for him. That I wanted more. That I didn’t stop thinking about him the whole damn night. That I’m still not thinking straight.
Before I can type, the phone buzzes again.
Shay: He kissed you, didn’t he? ??
I toss the phone on the couch like it’s betrayed me.
Beef watches with zero sympathy.
I collapse next to him, sipping my coffee, heart racing.
I don’t know what this is, but I do know I’m in trouble.
Because for the first time in a long time... I want more.
I ignore the incoming texts from Shay, sip my coffee, and try to pretend last night didn’t just flip my entire universe inside out. It doesn’t work.
A few minutes later, the front door bangs open.
“Rise and shine, bitch!”
Beef barks once—joyfully—and launches himself down the hallway.
I groan, dropping my head into my hands. “Shay, I swear to God—”
“I brought donuts, calm your tits,” she calls, already making herself at home.
Beef’s tail is thudding against the floor like a drum solo, and I hear her cooing at him. Great. Now they’re both hyped.
“Get in here!” she yells. “We have things to discuss.”
I shuffle toward the kitchen, coffee clutched like a lifeline. “You’re not subtle.”
She’s already at the table, tossing a bakery bag down, grinning like a maniac. “And you’re glowing.”
“I am not.”
“You are absolutely post-makeout-glowing. Spill. Everything. Now.”
I plop into the chair across from her, scowling. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
She leans in, eyes wide. “And yet, here I am.”
I rip open the donut bag just to avoid her face. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Bullshit.” She grins. “I saw your face last night before you left. That wasn’t ‘not a big deal’ energy.”
I bite into a glazed donut, chewing like maybe I can escape through sugar.
She waits, patient as hell, drumming her nails on the table.
I sigh, mouth full. “Fine. We kissed. Happy?”
Her scream is violent. Beef barks again, totally jazzed by the drama. Traitor.
“You kissed him?!” She’s already halfway out of her seat. “You little liar. You said you weren’t into him!”
“I said I didn’t know,” I groan. “Now I’m more confused.”
She drops back into her chair, grinning like she just won a prize. “Tell me everything. And don’t you dare leave out any details.”
I give her a look. “Details?”
“When. Where. His hands, his mouth, the whole damn thing.”
“You’re insane.”
“I’m invested.” She grins. “There’s a difference.”
I shake my head, but the blush creeping up my neck gives me away.
Shay gasps. “Oh my word, it was that good.”
I take another bite, refusing to confirm or deny.
She snatches my phone off the table. “Has he texted?”
“Give me that!”
“You haven’t heard from him?” Her eyes go wide. “Oh, hell no.”
I grab it back, glaring. But she’s right. I’m more rattled by that than I should be. I swallow the donut, which takes more effort than it should. “He’s probably at work.”
“Or he’s a dumbass. But don’t worry, I’ll text him for you.”
“Shay—”
She leans back, arms crossed. “You liked it. Like him. Admit it.”
I stare at my donut like it might save me. “Maybe.”
“Maybe, my ass. What’s the worst that could happen?”
I don’t answer.
She softens. “Look, I get it. You don’t let people in. But this guy? He’s breaking through.”
Yeah, whether I like it or not.
“I haven’t let anyone in like this since...” I stop.
Shay nods. “I know.”
We sit in silence for a beat.
Then my phone buzzes on the table.
I snatch it up before she can, heart in my throat.
Cole: Morning. Hope your feet survived last night. You left your smile in the stairwell. I’ll return it if you want.
Shay watches my face and groans. “That better be him.”
I bite my lip, but it doesn’t stop the stupid grin.
“Yeah,” I say softly. “It’s him.”
I stuff the phone into the pocket of my sweatpants. There’s no guarantee she won’t wrestle me for it, but a girl’s gotta try.
Shay finally gives up with a groan, tossing her hands in the air. “You’re impossible.”
I smile and take another sip of my coffee.
“Well, I’ve gotta work today,” Shay says, grabbing a donut for the road. “Thanks for being a jerk.”
“Love you too,” I mutter, holding the door open.
“Text me if you decide to stop being emotionally constipated.”
“Bye, Shay.”
She leaves with a dramatic huff, and I’m left standing in the quiet.
Alone.
Good. This is better.
I grab my phone, stare at the last text from Cole—and type fast before I can stop myself.
Me: Last night was a mistake. I’m not into this. Don’t make it a thing.
Send.
Done.
I toss the phone onto the couch like it’s cursed and head for the bathroom.
It’s over.
It’s what I wanted.
Hot water scalds my skin, but it doesn’t wash anything away. My head’s still a mess, spinning with flashes of his mouth, his hands, the way he looked at me like I was something he’d been waiting for.
I scrub harder. Crank the water hotter.
When I’m done, I towel off, throw on some shorts, and start drying my hair—fast, like if I move quick enough, I can blow-dry the regret out of me too.
Then my phone buzzes.
I freeze.
I pick it up and stare.
Cole: I’m coming over.
I stare at the screen.
I reread it.
I reread it again.
I’m coming over.
What the actual hell?
I type out a reply.
Delete it.
Try again.
Backspace, curse under my breath, and finish drying my hair. I get dressed in case he was serious, pulling on leggings and a T-shirt.
And before long, there’s a knock at my door.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Beef barks from the other room, already pacing like he’s been waiting for this moment. Great. Now I’ve got a lousy guard dog and a boy problem.
I fling open the door, mouth dry, brain scrambled, and Cole’s standing there.
Hands in his pockets.
Looking way too calm.
Way too sure of himself.
“This is not happening,” I say, leaning on the doorframe.
“It is,” he says. “Move.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m not going away, Andi. So unless you plan on calling the cops—who I work with, by the way—you’re letting me in.”
He’s serious.
And I’m... jeez, I’m a mess.
I cross my arms, glare, but I step back.
Beef trots over, tail wagging, because of course he loves this idiot.
Cole closes the door behind him, eyes locked on mine.
“You don’t get to kiss me like that,” he says, voice low, “and then send some bullshit text telling me you’re not into this.”
“It’s not bullshit,” I snap. “It’s me telling you to leave me alone.”
“Liar.”
I blink.
“What?”
“You want me here. You just don’t know how to deal with it.”
And just like that, I’m on fire again. Why is him calling me on my shit hot?
I clear my throat, stepping back. “Do you need a water? I need a water.”
I don’t wait for him to answer. I just turn and head for the kitchen, needing space, air—something.
The cold tile under my feet grounds me as I grab a glass from the cabinet. My hands shake a little as I fill it, the sound of the faucet loud in the silence behind me.
I take a sip. Then another.
Breathe, Andi.
I can feel him in the other room, still standing there, watching me. Waiting. Not pushing.
My therapist’s voice comes back, uninvited. Something about how I run when things feel good because I’m convinced I don’t deserve them. That if I expect disappointment, it won’t hurt as much when it comes. That trust isn’t about knowing someone won’t hurt you—it’s about being okay not knowing.
I hate all of it.
Absolutely hate it.
I grip the counter tighter.
I can’t do this.
You can, a voice that sounds a lot like Shay’s says somewhere inside me.
I release a slow breath and set down my water glass. When I return to the living room, Cole’s on one knee, scratching Beef’s exposed belly.
When he spots me, he stands.
“You always do that?” His voice is low, but steady. “Push people away the second they get close?”
I stiffen, gaze roaming his. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” he says, eyes locked on mine, hands in his pockets like he’s holding back. “You’re scared, I get it. But you don’t get to tell me how I feel.”
“You don’t know how I feel,” I shoot back, heat rising.
“Then tell me.” He steps closer, not crowding me, just there. Solid. Unshakeable. “Or at least stop pretending last night didn’t mean something.”
I look away. My heart’s pounding so loud I’m sure he can hear it.
“It’s easier if I don’t,” I whisper.
He nods slowly, his jaw working. “For you, maybe. Not for me.”
I swallow hard, and before I can think, I’m moving. My hands reach for him, pulling him in. His mouth crashes to mine, and suddenly we’re tangled again—heat, hands, hearts racing.
His lips are perfect—insistent and sure, but not taking more than I can give.
But he pulls back first, breathless. His forehead rests against mine.
“I have to get to work,” he murmurs, voice rough.
“Okay,” I breathe, not letting go.
“We’ll talk later, alright? I’m not going anywhere.”
My throat tightens. “Okay.”
He kisses me once more, softer this time, and then steps away, like it’s the hardest thing he’s ever done.
The door clicks shut behind him, and I’m left clutching the counter again, shaking.
Needing someone terrifies me.
But the idea of that someone being Cole?
It kills me.
Because it might be worth it.