Chapter 23
COLE
The talkative chatter of what must have appeared to the hotel clerk as two happy couples on their way back from eating the best osso buco on the planet gave way to silence as we parted from Parker and Delaney.
Neither Juliette nor I said a word as we walked down the marble-floored hallway to our room.
The air, charged with everything unspoken between us, didn’t abate as I opened the door and let Juliette pass.
Her arm brushed my shoulder, her sweet smell another assault to my senses.
“That might have been the best meal I’ve had the entire time in Italy,” Juliette said as she headed toward her suitcase.
It was hard not to notice her bending down into it, but instead of looking away, I continued to watch as she stood straight up. Realizing I hadn’t answered, she turned to look at me. Our gaze connected, and neither of us looked away.
“I don’t disagree,” I said finally, looking at her change of clothes. “Nightcap? Looks like they left some bubbly.”
Juliette hadn’t noticed the chilled bottle of Prosecco and two champagne glasses.
“Oh, wow. Hate to let that go to waste.”
I inspected the bottle. “Especially when it’s from Veneto,” I answered her unspoken question.
“You know how Champagne can only be called Champagne if it comes from that region in France? Prosecco’s the same way.
The good stuff comes from the hills outside Venice—Conegliano, Valdobbiadene—where they’ve been doing it right for generations. ”
“I had no idea.”
I popped the bottle. It had never been my drink of choice, but I would admit the sound did hold a certain appeal. Pouring two glasses, I proceeded to the balcony doors, reopening them since they’d been closed during turndown service.
We stepped out onto the balcony, still a balmy night but not too warm. The perfect temperature, actually. Facing her, I raised a glass. “To a successful, though unexpected, trip to Italia. Cin cin.”
She took a sip. “I thought the Italian expression for ‘cheers’ was ‘salute’?”
“Salute is more formal, but that can be used as well. Typically, Italians might say it before clinking glasses. Cin cin is less formal, used among friends.”
“Are we friends, Cole?”
“I’d like to think so.”
But clearly, there was much more to this. She knew it. I knew it. Though I suspected I’d scared her away with an accounting of my past relationships—or lack thereof—which had been the point at the time. There was a part of me that wished I’d kept that particular truth to myself.
“Thank you again for coming all the way out here. Talk about turning lemons into lemonade. Delaney said it was like a pre-honeymoon, and I love that. When I get married, I think I want a pre-honeymoon and a post-honeymoon too.”
Thinking about her being married reminded me of Delaney’s comment in the restaurant about the Florentine who’d been hitting on Juliette. Unbidden, a visual of the two of them together flashed across my mind, and the thought sickened me.
I shoved it away.
“Typically, one needs a fiancé to have a pre- or post-honeymoon. Any prospects in that arena?”
Just because the question had been sitting on the tip of my tongue for days didn’t mean it had to come out. But I was curious.
“One. But I’m not sure if it will go anywhere.
He’s from the city and has no desire to leave, and I love my hometown.
I know that sounds silly—there’s so much else in the world to see and do—but when I come back to Cedar Falls, it’s like being wrapped in a warm blanket.
I can’t imagine being away from my family and friends permanently, even if it’s just a few hours away. ”
Her answer was so unexpected—Juliette hadn’t mentioned a guy this entire time—that I didn’t know what to say.
“You’re dating someone from the city?”
She shrugged. “His name is Rocco. Nothing serious. He’s an attorney in Brooklyn and just made partner, so I haven’t seen him in two months. I wouldn’t call it dating, exactly. We met at a Christmas-themed bar in Manhattan last year, and I’ve kept in touch.”
The thought of her coming to Manhattan while I was there, to connect with some big-city attorney… it didn’t sit well.
“You never mentioned him.”
It was the most asinine thing to say, as if she should have. But there it was—white-hot jealousy. An entirely useless emotion that served no one. Still, I was self-aware enough not to pretend the idea of her and some other guy, in my backyard, strolling the streets hand in hand didn’t affect me.
Ask a question you didn’t want the answer to, and there you have it.
“I’d ask the same, but I already know the answer.”
“Yeah, you do.”
More Prosecco. New topic.
I took both of our glasses inside, filled them, and returned to the balcony, determined not to let my suddenly bad mood ruin our last few hours in Italy.
I took another sip, grateful for something to do with my hands. The city stretched out in front of us. Juliette leaned her elbows on the balcony railing, glass dangling loosely from her fingers.
“I don’t think I ever told you why I came back after college,” she said after a moment.
“To Cedar Falls?”
She nodded. “People assume sometimes, when you settle back into your small town, it’s because you’re scared. Or don’t want more.” She glanced at me then, eyes steady. “That’s not it.”
I waited.
“I like knowing where I belong,” she said. Her mouth curved into a small smile. “It’s probably why this trip feels so surreal. Like I stepped into someone else’s life for a few days.”
Something about the way she said it—quiet, honest—hit harder than the jealousy had.
“You belong wherever you decide you do,” I said. It wasn’t meant to sound as heavy as it came out, but there it was.
Her gaze softened. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re… untethered.”
That wasn’t true. Or maybe it was, but not in the way she meant.
I shifted closer, close enough that our shoulders almost touched. Close enough that I was aware of her warmth, her presence, the subtle citrus-and-something-else scent of her skin.
“Untethered isn’t the same as free,” I said. “Sometimes it just means you don’t know what would happen if you stopped moving.”
She studied me, really looked at me this time. “You don’t ever stop, do you?”
The question landed squarely in my chest.
“I’m not very good at it,” I admitted.
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was charged. Like something fragile had been set carefully between us, neither of us willing to touch it but both aware it existed.
“This trip,” she said, almost to herself. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
“No,” I agreed. “It wasn’t.”
Her fingers tightened around the stem of her glass. “But I’m glad it was.”
So was I.
Too glad.
“We should probably head in,” I said, even though I didn’t move. “We have an early flight.”
She nodded, though she lingered a second longer, eyes flicking to mine as if searching for something she didn’t quite ask for.
I opened the door for her and followed her inside, the warmth of the room replacing the night air but doing nothing to ease the tension coiled tight between us.
“Mind if I change first?” Juliette asked, already grabbing her clothes and heading into the bathroom with the ease of someone comfortable with the answer.
“Of course not,” I said, watching her disappear.
I poured myself a final Prosecco, sitting down in the plush chair that was too inviting to pass up. When she came out, hair piled on top of her head, our eyes met once again. I took a long sip, allowing my gaze to peruse her from head to toe.
“Ever hear the term mixed signals?”
I laughed. “I have, and I can’t even defend myself. If I were a different man, if you and Delaney weren’t best friends, if Delaney wasn’t engaged to one of my best friends…” I let the rest linger.
“I know. And to be honest, I have no desire to nurture a broken heart. Been there, done that. Enough to be able to discern the signs well in advance.”
I shouldn’t ask, but we were so far gone anyway. “The signs being?”
She climbed into bed, pulling the plush covers over her and propping the pillows up to sit and talk. “Feeling like I have been these last few days—with someone completely emotionally unavailable to me.”
I wished I could have disagreed with her. Instead, I drained the rest of my drink and stood. Without a word, I fished out a pair of boxers and my toiletry bag. As I prepared for bed, even though I could see her in the vanity mirror behind me, I didn’t say another word.
It was only when I headed back out and pulled a spare blanket and pillow from the closet that Juliette spoke again.
“I like you without your glasses. I like you with them too—very distinguished. But without them… Anyway, I’m going to stop talking now.”
I shut off the lights, leaving only Juliette’s bedside lamp on. “I have contacts too.”
“So why do you wear your glasses all the time?”
That was a very personal question, but I answered anyway. “Just one more shield between me and the world.” I smiled in the dark. “And I agree—they do make me look distinguished.”
She laughed. “Guess we should get some sleep.”
I looked up.
With Juliette’s lamp still on, I could see her in the ceiling mirror that covered our entire bedroom. It didn’t take her long to look up.
Could she see me looking?
I was awash in darkness, but enough light carried through the room that, by her expression, I was pretty certain she saw enough.
Neither of us moved.
The silence stretched, thick and charged, every unspoken thought pressed between us. The stairwell flashed through my mind—her back against the wall, the way she’d gone still beneath my hands before the moment could turn into something neither of us was ready to face.
This felt worse.
Slower.
Heavier.
“Cole.”
She whispered my name like she wasn’t sure she should be saying it at all.
I was on my feet before I’d decided anything.
I crossed the space between us, stopping at the edge of her bed, my pulse hammering loud enough I was sure she could hear it. She didn’t pull away. Didn’t look uncertain. Just watched me, eyes dark, waiting.
I bent over her and kissed her.
This time, there was no hesitation.
Her mouth opened beneath mine with a soft sound that went straight through me, and the restraint I’d been clinging to for days fractured.
The kiss was slow, deliberate, every ounce of longing we’d held back pouring into it.
My hand fisted in the sheets beside her head, the only thing keeping me anchored.
For one dangerous second, I forgot everything except the way her lips fit against mine. The way she kissed me back like she’d been waiting.
I pulled away.
Breathing hard, forehead resting against hers, I closed my eyes.
“If I don’t stop now,” I said quietly, “I won’t.”
Her hand brushed my wrist. Not stopping me. Not urging me closer. Just there.
When I straightened, the space between us was an unwanted gulf.
Nothing about this could be undone.
And we both knew it.