Chapter 15
Cole
I’ve never hated waiting rooms more.
The clock ticks loud enough to rattle my nerves. The fluorescent lights hum like a swarm of bees. I can’t stop my leg from bouncing. Every time the elevator bell dings down the hall, my head snaps up, desperate for it to be her.
I tell myself it’s because I need her here—because she’s the key to securing the cabin, the mountain, and my family's legacy. That’s the story I keep repeating in my head.
But I know better.
It isn’t the land I’m waiting for. It’s Frankie.
I think about Gramps. About the way he used to look at Grams in that old photo—the way she completely consumed every fiber of his being. I used to think it was sappy. Now I understand it.
The way he’d do anything to make her smile. The way he built a life around her happiness.
Maybe this whole time, Gramps wasn’t just teaching me about family. Maybe he was trying to teach me about love.
The elevator bell rings. My heart leaps.
But it’s not her.
Ryan steps out, smug as sin in his designer coat and that same gloating expression I’ve wanted to knock off his face since we were kids.
“Still waiting on your runaway bride?” he says, smirking.
“She’s not late,” I say automatically, even though she is.
Ryan chuckles. “You really thought you could pull this off? Hate to break it to you, cousin, but I’ll make sure your little inheritance goes to good use. Maybe I’ll give you the friends and family discount on a room at the new lodge.”
I stare straight ahead. “Save your breath.”
He shrugs, all mock sympathy. “Suit yourself.”
I’m about to get up—to go find her, to do something—when the secretary opens the door. “Mr. Whitaker? Mr. Ryan Whitaker? Mr. Wenworth will see you now.”
Ryan grins like he’s heading to his coronation. I follow him down the hall, my stomach tight and my chest heavier than it’s ever been.
The lawyer’s office door swings open, and for a second, I forget how to breathe.
Frankie’s sitting there.
She looks calm, collected, like she didn’t just upend my entire world by walking out of it a week ago. But I can tell by the faint pink in her cheeks that she feels my stare.
Ryan stops cold. “What the hell is she doing here?”
Mr. Whitmore adjusts his glasses. “I asked Mrs. Whitaker to come in early so I could speak with her privately before we settled everything.”
I can’t take my eyes off her. Her hair’s loose, curling around her face. She’s wearing a soft blue sweater that makes her eyes look brighter. She catches me staring and blushes, and I swear I feel it down to my bones.
The lawyer clears his throat. “Mrs. Whitaker has explained everything to me. About the… arrangement.”
Ryan barks out a laugh. “Ha! I knew it. Fake marriage. You’re done, Cole.”
“However,” the lawyer continues, his tone sharpening, “she also told me about the bribe.”
Ryan’s smirk falters. “What bribe?”
“The one where you offered her one hundred thousand dollars to walk away,” Wenworth says dryly.
“Frankly, this is not at all how I expected today to go. But as executor of your grandfather’s estate, I’ve reviewed the terms. The will states only that Cole must be married by December 31st. There’s no mention of emotional requirements or intent. ”
Frankie smiles sweetly at Ryan. “Thanks for giving me that copy of the will, Ryan. Your proof really came in handy.”
The color drains from his face. “You—what—”
Wentworth holds up a hand. “It’s done. Cole keeps the property. End of discussion.”
Ryan looks like he might explode. He sputters something about contesting it, but the lawyer waves him off.
“Happy New Year, gentlemen,” Wentworth says firmly.
Ryan glares at me before he storms out.
Frankie stands, shakes the lawyer’s hand. “Thank you, Mr. Wenworth. And Happy New Year to you, too.”
He smiles. “You’re quite the strategist, Mrs. Whitaker.”
She turns to me, and before I can find words, she leans in and kisses me softly on the cheek. “I loved being Mrs. Cole Whitaker for Christmas,” she whispers.
Then she turns and walks out the door.
I just stand there, the world tilting on its axis, her words echoing in my head.
“Mr. Whitaker,” the lawyer says finally. “What the hell are you doing?”
I blink. “What?”
He gestures toward the door. “Go after her. I haven’t seen a man look at a woman like that since your grandparents. You love her.”
The words hit like a hammer to the chest.
He’s right.
I love her.
Before I can second-guess it, I bolt for the hallway, pushing through the door and sprinting toward the elevators. The doors are closing, and I catch a glimpse of her inside.
“Frankie!”
She looks up, startled.
I lunge forward, sliding into the elevator just as the doors shut behind me.
It’s just the two of us.
I hit the emergency stop button. The car jolts to a halt, and silence fills the space between us.
Her eyes are wide, lips parted in surprise. My heart’s pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat.
“Cole,” she whispers, “what are you—”
But I don’t let her finish.