38. Cole
THIRTY-EIGHT
Cole
The Singapore skyline fills my laptop screen through Raymond Koh's virtual office window. We've been talking for forty minutes about the Orchard District development. It's sixty floors of residential and commercial space that'll reshape the cityscape.
"The environmental impact study should wrap up next month," Raymond explains, pulling up another spreadsheet. "Then we'll have full approval to break ground."
This deal represents everything I've worked toward. International expansion, sustainable development. These are projects that matter beyond just profit margins.
A loud thud echoes from my front door, followed by what sounds like someone fumbling with the handle.
"Raymond, give me one second. I need to step away from the computer."
I mute my microphone and turn off the video feed, then push back from my desk near the window.
The front door bursts open before I reach it. Sam stumbles inside, tears streaming down her face, her whole body shaking .
"Sam." I rush toward her, my left arm reaching out since the right one's still trapped in this damn sling.
"Are you okay?"
She collapses against me, her face pressing into my chest. Her shoulders shake with what I think are sobs.
"I'm more than okay." Her voice is muffled against my shirt. "I'm perfect. I'm so perfect I can't stop crying."
I wrap my good arm around her, holding her as tightly as I can manage with one functioning limb. "Tell me what happened."
She pulls back just enough to look at me, her eyes bright despite the tears. "I just hung up with Monique at Grady. Cole, someone donated five million dollars to the mobile clinic program. Five million."
"Sam, that's incredible."
"She doesn't even know who it was. She opened the trust yesterday and put out feelers to benefactors who have expressed interest in supporting outreach. This will more than set us up. All of it. Equipment, personnel, operating costs for the first five years, probably more."
She's talking fast now, the words tumbling over each other.
"I don't have to worry about financial logistics anymore. I can focus completely on the medical side, on actually helping people. Every single sign keeps pointing me toward this, Cole. This is exactly what I should be doing."
I tighten my hold on her, feeling her excitement vibrate through both of us. The Singapore call seems like it happened hours ago instead of minutes.
"I'm just so overwhelmed right now. I came straight here. I couldn't think of anywhere else to go." She takes a shaky breath .
She came to me first. A warm sensation spreads through my chest.
"I'm glad you did." I kiss the top of her head. "Listen, I hate to do this, but I'm on a call with Singapore right now. Time zones and all that. Can I come over when it ends? I want to hear everything."
"Oh God, yes. I'm sorry for barging in like this."
"Don't apologize. I'm happy you did."
She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. "How long will you be?"
"Twenty minutes, maybe thirty."
"Perfect. I'll go on a jog to release some of this energy and make sure I'm back in thirty."
She's coming back for me. I can't wipe the grin from my face.
Twenty-eight minutes later, I finally end the call and change into gray joggers and a navy t-shirt.
My inbox is full, the pitch deck’s waiting. But none of it sticks. All I can see is her face lit up like the world is her oyster.
Five million dollars. No conditions, no credit. Just a push in the direction she was already heading. She doesn’t need to know where it came from.
This was never about me.
I walk next door barefoot, sand still clinging to my feet from the morning. Her sliding door faces the ocean, and I spot her jogging up from the beach. Ponytail swinging. Face flushed. She looks happy.
That’s the win.
“Perfect timing.” I lift my good arm and wave.
She stops in front of me, still practically bouncing. "I ran four miles and I'm still humming. This is truly the best day, since the moment I woke up with you."
Her words nearly knock me sideways. She's probably still high on endorphins. Or the five million. Or both. Still, I'll take it.
"Should we celebrate properly? I have another bottle of that Vermentino."
Her eyes light up. "Yes. Absolutely yes."
She loops her arm around my neck, pulls me in, and kisses me like I’m the prize. Slow. Intentional. Then she lets go and bounds up the steps like nothing just happened.
I just stand there, blinking.
"I'll grab it and meet you back here."
I jog back to my place and retrieve the wine from the fridge. Her excitement is infectious, and I feel giddy with her.
When I return, Sam's standing on her deck with a towel draped around her neck, the ocean breeze catching loose strands of her hair.
I hold up the bottle. "Ready for round two?"
She reaches for it immediately. "I'm opening this one. You struggled way too much yesterday with your gimp arm."
Heat creeps up my neck. "I think you're just feeling sorry for maiming me."
"Nope. You totally deserved it." She grins, already twisting off the top with practiced efficiency.
I pour for both of us, the pale wine catching the afternoon sunlight.
"To mobile clinics," I raise my glass.
"To unexpected miracles." She clinks her glass against mine.
The wine is crisp and bright. Sam takes a long sip, then settles into the deck chair beside me.
"This changes things," she says as she looks out at the waves. "Now there’s no question that I'm meant to do this."
"I think you're right. This has your name all over it. "
"You know, my dad told me today at lunch that my mom tried to do this same thing here in Palm Beach. How wild is that?"
"You're shitting me."
"No, when he said it, I swear a chill ran through me. It erased the last shred of doubt I had about doing this. And then I got that fucking text. Holy shit. What a day."
"Now you don't have to sell your house."
She blinks at me, confused. "What?"
"I mean, you were only listing it to fund the clinic, right?"
"Yeah. That was the plan."
I shrug, keeping it casual. "Then maybe it doesn’t have to be. You love it here. The ocean, your runs. If keeping a piece of this place gives you peace of mind, you should have that."
She studies me, something unspoken flickering across her face.
"I already signed with Janet," she says.
"You can cancel the listing. It’s not even active yet."
A moment passes as I see the gears turning in her eyes. Then, softer, I add, “I know this house isn’t your whole story anymore. But I also know how much it means to you. You don’t have to let it go just to prove you’ve moved on.”
Her gaze holds mine, and something shifts.
"If I didn't know you'd already sold your house, I'd think you were trying to keep your hot neighbor intact," she asks with a smile.
"Nope. This isn't about me. I just want you to always have a place that feels like home."
Her lips twitch. Then her fingers slide up to my cheek. "That’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me."
My chest still heaves like I've been underwater for minutes.
Sam lies beside me, her skin glistening with sweat, hair spread across the pillow in dark waves.
The aftershocks of what just happened ripple through my body. That raw emptiness behind my ribs is finally filled, like I've been holding my breath for months and can finally exhale.
She's quiet, staring at the ceiling. Her thighs still quiver slightly against mine.
"I'm going to miss you when I leave in the morning."
"I'm going to miss you, too."
"These last few days have felt like something that's happening to someone else," she murmurs, her voice soft and hoarse.
I shift onto my elbow, studying the curve of her jaw in the dim light filtering through her curtains. My injured arm is still sore, but I can finally move it without wincing.
My thumb traces her collarbone, making slow patterns across her damp skin.
"I've been thinking about something I wanted to run by you."
Her eyes drift toward me, lazy and satisfied. "Yeah?"
"There's an investment opportunity in Atlanta. It's a high-rise in Buckhead that needs serious work. It's a major renovation project."
She doesn't respond immediately, just watches my fingers move across her skin.
"What are you saying?"
"I want to take it. I want to have an opportunity to be close to you. If that isn't too creepy, I mean."
"Would you be moving there?"
"I could be there three, maybe four days a week. Sometimes more. "
The words hang between us. I'm not making this pitch like a business deal. No projections or quarterly forecasts. I'm laying my truth bare.
"It's not about flipping a building, Sam. It's about you. Being near you and choosing this. Choosing us."
She’s quiet as she watches me.
"I don’t need grand gestures, Cole. I just need you to mean it. And if you do, then yeah. I would like that."
My chest tightens with relief and gratitude. It's something dangerously close to hope.
"I don't expect this to fix everything like a magic wand. I know it will take time. But I want to show you, consistently, without conditions, that I'm here, that I see you. That I'm all in."
My thumb traces the hollow of her throat. She's so still beneath my touch, like she's afraid to move and break whatever spell this is.
The ocean crashes outside her window, filling the silence between us. This isn't how I imagined saying any of this when I found the project after researching endlessly to find something, anything, to be an excuse to be in her city.
“I know,” she says quietly.
She shifts closer, skin on skin, and presses a kiss to my chest like a vow. I hold her tighter. Neither of us moves.
There's no armor left, no pretending. This isn’t a fresh start. It’s something better.
It's a beginning we choose, with eyes wide open.