26. Cole
TWENTY-SIX
COLE
She was ignoring me. I tracked her journey from her table to the dining room exit, gaze caught on the nip of her waist and the way her dress swayed as she walked.
Alba was wrong. I wasn’t in love with Carrie. How could I be, when we hardly knew each other?
But I did want her. The wanting was a hot coal in the pit of my stomach, so hot it was impossible to ignore. From the moment she’d walked into my office and fainted on her first day of work, I’d burned to be closer to her.
Alba had seen it, even though I’d told her—and myself—that I was marrying her , and I wouldn’t break my word.
But the wedding was off.
Still reeling from my conversation with my fiancée— ex -fiancée—I struggled to keep up with my father’s tired old banter and Ted’s gentle ribbing. She hadn’t told her father that we were broken up. He was still slapping me on the back and giving me the same genial smile, calling me his future son-in-law.
I didn’t know what to do. The only thing I knew was that Carrie held my gaze for a few long seconds, and then she didn’t look at me again.
And it should have been a gift. I should have followed her lead, because her reappearance in my life was the reason that my engagement had fallen apart, and shouldn’t I be more upset about that? Shouldn’t I be running after Alba and begging her to come back?
Instead, I felt the shameful, nonsensical, undeniable cool wash of relief.
I was relieved that Alba had broken up with me, that I hadn’t had to march onward to my wedding day like a man facing the gallows. I was relieved that I wouldn’t have to reject her transactional sexual advances when I did her a favor. I was relieved to be free.
And I was ashamed of myself for it.
Alba’s words ran through my mind on a loop.
I thought you were incapable of really loving a woman, Cole, and so I thought we could come to an understanding. I thought this marriage would be…simple. But I was wrong.
I’m in love with someone else.
I can’t marry you.
She’d been ready to marry me on paper, because she thought I was a heartless bastard who only wanted a businesslike union. She was prepared to marry someone incapable of loving her—as long as I didn’t love anyone else.
How had I been so wrong about her? And what would it mean for my life once the other men sitting at this very table discovered that my engagement was off?
What would it mean for me and Carrie?
“You still sulking about your double loss today?” my father asked, pulling me from my thoughts.
I snorted. “Hardly.”
“That little assistant of yours has a hell of a swing,” Ted said.
I slid my gaze over to him, not liking the lecherous note in his voice. “She’s full of surprises,” I answered noncommittally.
“We should have her join us tomorrow morning,” my father said. “Have a rematch.”
“She’s got work to do,” I said. “Can’t be dragging her off to play a round every time you guys want to be entertained.”
My father waved a hand. “She can spare a couple of hours a day. I want to see if she’s identified any other procedures that we can improve. The charter flights were a stroke of genius.”
I couldn’t sit here and listen to them. Not when my life had already been turned upside down.
Not when the very loyalty that I was so proud of possessing had been tossed back in my face like a bucketful of acid.
Alba didn’t want me. She’d lied to me, just like my adoptive family had lied to me. She’d pretended to be one thing while living a secret double life. She’d accused me of being unfaithful while falling in love with someone else. Just like my adoptive family had treated me like a second-class citizen while holding back the truth about my very blood.
I had worked so hard to be accepted by these people. I’d ingratiated myself with my father, with his best friend. I’d toiled for his company, worked myself ragged because I wanted him to be proud of me. I wanted to belong somewhere.
For what? Why did I continue to give my loyalty to people who didn’t deserve it? Why did I insist on making decisions for the sake of relationships that required so much giving and hardly any getting?
Alba had been using me. Was my father using me too? Was I his long-lost heir, or a convenient scapegoat that could take the blame if things went wrong with his company?
There were precious few people in my life who had been honest with me, always. There was Rome, who wasn’t afraid to have tough conversations. I’d hurt him when I left his company seven years ago, but we’d mended our relationship. He was like a brother to me, and he was willing to look me in the eye and tell me he thought I was making a mistake.
And there was Carrie. She’d squared her shoulders and assured me we could work together. She’d made good on her promise, improving company processes that I’d previously thought were completely optimized. She treated me like an equal instead of bowing and scraping like a subservient peon.
I was sick of fighting it. Sick of resisting the pull that drew me toward her. Sick of pretending that Alba was wrong.
Because the truth was, I wanted Carrie. I’d wanted her from the moment she walked into my office. I’d never stopped wanting her for seven years, from the moment the door to her hotel room closed behind me as I walked away.
Maybe she was the only woman I’d ever truly craved. Maybe I was a fool to hide behind my vows; I was just afraid of taking the risk to reach out and ask if Carrie wanted me back .
But my vows were ash now. My engagement was done.
I stood up and excused myself from the dinner table. It was time to stop lying to myself.
Heart hammering, I let my feet carry me through the resort. Her door loomed like a portal to another world, and I hesitated for only a brief moment before lifting my fist to knock.