Chapter 28
Cole
Lydia never comes back from her phone call, so eventually I clean up the kitchen and head to the office to do some digging into all of the smartboard stuff. On my way there, I pause by the door to Lydia’s room, listening for her. I don’t hear anything though, so, assuming she’s sleeping, I leave her be. It’s probably for the best that our night got cut short, since I’m not too eager to get back into a conversation about why I need God.
In my office I pull up google and get to work. An hour later, I sit back in my chair, stunned by what I’ve found. Tom is going to flip with excitement. Well, actually, it’s Tom, so he’ll probably just offer me a brief smile. Still, this is big. It might even be enough to put this mayoral race in the bag. And it’s all thanks to Lydia. I’m not sure I’ll be able to prank her after this. I owe her too big.
Pulling out my phone, I open my grocery delivery app and add a box of Pop-tarts to my cart. Then, since delivery is only free if I spend $35 anyway, I add fifteen more boxes. Pop-tarts might not be enough of a thank you, but at least it’s a start.
Lydia
I wake up late the next morning, and I can tell without looking that my eyes are puffy from all my crying. My limbs ache from all of the gardening I’ve been doing and my ponytailed hair is now a matted mess against my back. Thankfully a shower makes me feel semi-human again, and after putting on a pair of knit shorts and a striped tee, I venture out in search of food.
My stomach does a flip as I enter the kitchen and see the numerous boxes of Pop-tarts spread across the island. I step closer and notice with another stomach flip, that the boxes have been arranged into a peace sign. There’s a note off to the side, and I pick it up with shaky hands.
Lydia , I read, I offer you these Pop-tarts as a white flag. Your question about the smartboards uncovered something huge about Ferris Arnold. Long story, but suffice it to say, Arnold is about to be at the center of a political scandal. I can’t thank you enough for your help, and, seeing as I’m now indebted to you, I clearly can’t be pranking you. Besides, I’d love it if we could be the kind of husband and wife who don’t have a war going. Probably best for the babies too, right? Alright, hope you enjoy the Pop-tarts. No need to write your name on them. I’ll leave them all to you. -Cole
My heart sinks to the floor, and my lips dry into two deserts. He wants to call a truce. I should be happy, but instead I’m terrified. I don’t like when Cole is nice to me. I’m having a hard enough time keeping my feelings for him in check without him being nice to me. I don’t stand a chance if he’s going to do things like buy me a year’s worth of Pop-tarts or, I don’t know, come to my track meets to cheer my team on.
I force myself to remember all of the things I don’t like about him. He’s pushy and conceited and, and, and…he covered my room in frogs— my thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the garage door opening. I try to gather myself, knowing Cole will surely be headed my way shortly. I resume listing his faults as I fill a glass with orange juice, wanting to look busy.
He’s, um…well, he’s a politician. Yes, I grab onto this thought. He’s a politician, and everyone knows politicians are liars. Plus, there’s his face, which is stupid.
Cole walks in and a smile covers his stupid face as he sees me. Yes, he’s got a stupid face with stupid dimples and stupid brown eyes and stupidly straight teeth. Not to mention his stupid, stupid body.
“You found the Pop-tarts,” he says by way of greeting. “And, uh, did you read my note?” He looks suddenly nervous. It’s the first time I’ve seen him look nervous, and it wipes away my whole stupid list. I’m making Cole Jacobson nervous. The very idea makes me feel a bit heady.
Maybe I should just go along with his truce. Maybe this can be a real marriage.
“Hey, Cole, you left this in my backseat,” a female voice cuts off this line of thought and coldness descends on me as Ashley walks into the kitchen, Cole’s jacket in her hand. “Oh,” she pauses, looking startled to see me standing there. There’s a beat of silence, then she seems to recover herself. Stepping further into the room, she offers me a smile dripping with annoyance. “It’s Lydia, right? We seem to be running into each other a lot lately.” She lets out a fake little laugh. “The wedding, the office, and now…Cole’s kitchen.”
It doesn’t take a genius to work out the subtext of her words. She’s clearly waiting for me to give an explanation for all of these run-ins. Unfortunately for her, my mouth appears to have forgotten how to form words.
“Oh, thanks, Ashley,” Cole speaks, stepping towards her to take his jacket from her hand. I wait for him to say something else, like maybe tell her how the two of us are married, which is why I’m in his kitchen. Which is actually our kitchen. But Cole doesn’t speak. He seems ready to ignore the elephant in the room.
“What’s with all of the Pop-tarts?” Ashley presses on, obviously not planning on leaving without getting her answers.
“I got those as a gift for Lydia,” Cole answers promptly. “They’re her favorite breakfast food.”
He’s doing an excellent job dodging her questions, I’ll give him that. The twist of pain caused by his refusal to claim me as his wife reminds me of everything at stake. I can’t believe I almost agreed to his truce, that I almost let myself believe we could have a loving marriage. With a surge of adrenaline, I find my voice.
“He’s so thoughtful, my husband,” I interject as much sweetness as I can into the words, stepping forward and linking my arm with his. Ashley’s eyes practically bulge out of her head, making her almost resemble the tree frog stuck to my wall.
“Husband?” her eyes flit to Cole. I can feel the tension emanating off of him, but I don’t let go of his arm. He deserves this awkward moment. “You two are married?”
“You didn’t tell her, babe?” I feign shock as I look up at Cole. His lips are pressed together in a line across his rapidly reddening face. The pain twists deeper. The expression on his face tells me that either he’s embarrassed of me or he still loves her. I hate that the possibility of the latter cuts me the deepest.
“Somehow it never came up. We don’t talk about our personal lives much at work.” Cole forces a smile in Ashley’s direction, then looks down at me. “But I’m glad you’ve told her now, honey.”
His words don’t fool me. He still looks agitated.
“Wow.” Ashley looks back and forth between us as if solving a difficult math equation. Then, to my great astonishment, a slow smile spreads across her face. “You got married, Cole,” her voice is smug and her smile catlike. I can’t work out what she’s thinking. Is it all in my head that she wants to be with him?
“I did, and we’re very happy,” Cole releases my arm and pulls me so my side is flush against his. Unwelcome tingles travel up the length of my body. “In it for the long haul, Lydia and I, right honey?”
He sounds slightly manic which adds a whole new layer of confusion to this whole situation. Suspicion starts to rise up in me filling me with dread. Is there something going on between Cole and Ashley? Is that why Cole is putting so much emphasis on telling her how amazing our marriage is? Like he wants to make sure she keeps quiet about their illicit affair, so as not to hurt my feelings?
Cole kisses me lightly on the head, and I shake these thoughts away. Illicit affair? Cole wouldn’t do that, not when it would mess up his chances of getting elected mayor if it got out.
“Uh, right,” I say lamely. “So happy.”
Ashley just looks amused. “Right. Well, I’d better be going. Thanks for breakfast, Cole.” She waves then heads out the door.
There’s a beat of silence before we both try to speak at the same time.
“You had breakfast with Ashley?” I ask.
“So did you read my note?” he says at the same time, then backtracks as he registers my words. “What? Oh, no. I mean, yes, but it was with a client. He wanted to fit in a quick meeting before he leaves for his house in Vienna for the next few weeks.”
“Oh,” some of my indignation seeps out of me, “I see.”
“Ashley is just a colleague, Lydia,” he begins.
“Right, I know,” I rush out. I don’t want him to know how jealous I am. Jealousy is something a lover feels, not something the woman you accidentally impregnated and therefore married feels. “I was just making conversation.”
“Right,” he looks unconvinced. I’m desperate to ask him why he behaved so strangely with Ashley, but that would make me look jealous too. So instead, I follow his lead and move on from that awkward experience.
“What did you find out about Arnold?” I ask, deliberately avoiding the part of his note that spoke of a truce. I simply cannot call a truce right now.
“Oh,” Cole grins, “wait till you hear. Tom is on his way now, so I can fill you both in at the same time.”
As if on cue there’s a knock at the front door, and Cole rushes off to let Tom in, leaving me alone with my many, many emotions. As I watch him go, I add “he has a stupid butt” to the list of things I don’t like about Cole Jacobson.