Chapter Twenty-Six
ENEMIES TO LOVERS
Andi
Work sucks today.
And not because it’s unusually chaotic or gross—although, let’s be honest, it always kind of is. It sucks because I’m distracted.
Hopelessly and ridiculously distracted.
I can’t stop thinking about last night. About Cole. About his hands, his mouth, the way he looked at me like I was something he wanted to keep. Something worth holding onto.
I haven’t stopped thinking about it since I left his place this morning, hair still a mess and my body sore in the best way, I’ve been trying to focus on paperwork and patient charts, but all I can think about is how he made me feel.
Warm. Safe. Wanted.
I swallow.
My mind betrays me, flashing back to all the hot things he whispered last night.
“Tell me what you want, Andi.” Not a demand, but an invitation—to tell him what I liked, what I needed. Like he needed it too. Needed to know how to make me feel good.
Later, as his breath caught and his hands gripped my hips, he’d whispered, “I’m not gonna last if you keep moving like that.” He sounded playful yet wrecked, as if I was the one undoing him instead of the other way around.
“Hey, Callahan.”
I blink, looking up from my screen to find Mikey leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, that smug little grin of his front and center.
“What?”
He shrugs. “Heard you slayed at the bachelorette auction.”
I huff. “I survived.”
I try to focus but fail miserably.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” I lie. “Why?”
“You’ve read the same line in that chart three times.”
“So?”
“So... you’re distracted. And not in a ‘my dog’s sick’ kind of way. More like an ‘I’ve been thoroughly ruined by a man’ kind of way.”
My face heats instantly. “Shut up.”
“Ah-ha!” He points, grinning wider. “It’s true.”
“It’s not.”
“It is.” He walks in and sits on the edge of the desk. “You’re practically glowing. Don’t think I didn’t notice you floating in here this morning.”
“Are you done?”
He gives me a look. “You’re terrible at this.”
I groan, leaning back in my chair. “Don’t you have something to do?”
“I’m making sure my friend’s okay. And clearly, you’re more than okay. So I’ll leave you to... whatever’s going on in that head of yours.” He stands, still smirking. “Tell lover boy I said hi.”
I flip him off as he walks out, but I’m smiling.
“Ow!”
Shay side-eyes me. “What now?”
“The tech just tried to take my whole toe off.”
“You’re such a baby.”
I glare at her, but it’s half-hearted. She’s grinning like she knows exactly why I’m jumpy—and yeah, she probably does.
The little nail salon is quiet tonight—just us, a bored technician scrolling her phone at the front desk, and some muted reality show playing in the background.
Shay’s reclined in one of those ridiculous massage chairs, her toes freshly painted in a dangerously red shade that only she could pull off.
Me? I’m trying not to kick the poor girl filing my nails like she has a personal vendetta.
“So...” Shay says, dragging it out like she’s been waiting all day to pounce. “You gonna tell me why you’re glowing, or do I have to guess?”
I roll my eyes, but it’s no use.
“I’m not glowing.”
“You are.”
“It’s the bad lighting.”
“It’s Cole.”
I freeze for just a second, but she catches it.
“Ha! I knew it.” She leans over, smacking my arm. “You slept with him, didn’t you? Oh my gosh, you totally did.”
I groan, covering my face. “Shay, please.”
“Don’t you dare pull that shy act with me now. Spill. Was it good? No—was it life-changing?”
I peek at her through my fingers. “Shay.”
“Don’t ‘Shay’ me. This is what friends are for.”
There’s no way I can tell her about The Situation.
I drop my hands, sighing. “It was... yeah. It was good.”
She gasps. “Good? That’s all I get?”
I bite my lip, a smile tugging at the corners. “It was really good. Like... I didn’t know it could be like that.”
Her eyes go wide. “Holy shit.”
“I know.”
She grabs my hand, practically bouncing. “Okay, but wait. Details. How did it happen? When? Where? Did he undress you slow? Fast? Tell me everything.”
I look down at the nail technician, who I’m pretty sure is now fully invested in this conversation. “You’re relentless.”
“And you love it. Now talk.”
I cave because, honestly? I need to talk about it. About him. About how I can’t stop replaying every single second in my head.
So I do.
I tell her about the storm, the candles, the way he looked at me. How gentle he was, how he checked in, how he carried me to his bed like I weighed nothing, and then worshipped every inch of me like he couldn’t believe I was real.
Shay is silent, which is rare, but her face says it all.
“Damn,” she finally breathes. “You’re gone.”
“I am not.”
“You are so gone. Done for. Obliterated.”
I laugh, but it’s half-hearted. Because maybe I am. Maybe I’m in deeper than I meant to be.
And Shay sees it.
“So what now?” she asks, quieter now. “Is this... are you guys a thing?”
I draw a slow breath and shrug. “I don’t know. We didn’t really talk about it. He said he wasn’t going anywhere, but I just... I’m scared.”
“Scared of what?”
I pause, looking down at my hands.
“Of needing him.”
Shay softens, reaching over to squeeze my knee.
“You’ve been through hell, Andi. But not every guy’s gonna leave you there. Maybe it’s okay to let someone help you out.”
I nod, swallowing hard. She sounds like my therapist. “I’m trying.”
She grins, leaning back. “Good. And if you need me to vet him again, just say the word.”
I laugh, grateful and more than a little terrified.
But also... maybe ready.