CHAPTER SEVEN
Cole
It was 9 a.m., and Sara still hadn't come out. I sat in the car, grateful for my jacket keeping me warm.
My eyes were closed, my head resting against the headrest as I replayed every mistake I had made, mistakes I kept making, even when I knew better. But it was too late now. There was no undoing the damage.
And honestly, besides waiting here and kneeling at her feet, begging for forgiveness, I had no real, solid plan to win back her heart. My betrayal was too great to be forgiven. I knew that. I didn't even deserve to be in her presence.
But I was going to try anyway.
I rubbed my face and let out a long sigh, my mind going over everything that had happened yesterday.
From the moment Sara walked into my office, suspicion in her eyes, even if she was wrong about the reason. She thought Elsa didn't trust her. But the truth was, Sara shouldn't trust Elsa at all. She and I were probably the most disgraceful people in the world.
I knew Elsa had deliberately left that pink thing on the coffee table. I knew she had made that noise in the bathroom on purpose. And when Sara noticed it—God, I was so terrified.
Elsa wanted to get caught. She wanted me to choose her, especially with the baby due soon. She was livid, saying it was humiliating to hide in the bathroom like some dirty little secret. Furious, she left and went home.
Even though she was the dirty little secret. What did she expect?
Elsa had warned me once that she would not stay in the shadows forever. But I had ignored her, forgotten about it, convinced I could keep my life balanced on this razor's edge.
Now, the edge had sliced me open.
I shouldn't have trusted Elsa when she said she was in pain. She had used this trick so many times, yet I fell for it every single time. But I couldn't help it. I was worried about my baby.
If I hadn't listened to Elsa and gone to her, none of this would have happened.
I just never imagined that Sara would follow me to Elsa's house.
I had been giving in to Elsa's every demand because I wanted to be in my child's life. For her to have my last name.
Elsa knew I would never leave Sara, and she knew exactly how desperate I was to keep this horrible secret from my wife. She also knew I'd do anything to avoid a messy court battle over paternity, one that would make it impossible to hide the truth from Sara.
If I refused her, she wouldn't let me see my child. But she also knew I'd never stop supporting them. I wouldn't do that to my baby.
Elsa held all the cards. And I was completely screwed.
But Sara. Oh, God.
Fuck.
I could not forget the pain seared onto her face. Her eyes, once so full of warmth, were hollow, stripped of every ounce of trust she had in me. The way her lips trembled, like she was holding back a sob. I had never seen her look so broken.
And I was the one who did that to her.
I was the reason for the cracks in her voice, for the tears she refused to shed in front of me. My betrayal had crushed her, and the worst part was that I had no way of undoing it. No way of taking back the agony I had put in her eyes.
I released a heavy groan, burying my face in my hands. A tremor rippled through me, my entire body shaking under the crushing weight of it all.
When Sara walked away, I froze, standing at Elsa's house. I couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. Elsa was shouting in my ear, but her voice barely registered. The only thing that mattered was the slow, crushing realization sinking into my bones—Sara was gone. She said we were done. It took a long moment for her words to truly hit me.
Then I ran after her. I ran barefoot, chasing the taxi as it sped away on the empty street, desperation clawing at my chest. I left Elsa behind, her voice rising with threats and warnings, but I didn't care. None of it mattered.
One name, one thought—Sara, Sara, Sara—consumed my mind.
Don't leave me, please.
I ran until the taxi disappeared from view, my hands reaching out as if I could somehow pull her back. But I couldn't.
She was gone.
Sara was gone.
I sprinted back to Elsa's house, grabbed my keys, and rushed to the car only to realize, too late, that I'd forgotten my shoes. Swearing under my breath, I ran back again. I was frantic. Desperate.
Elsa was still screaming, her voice cutting through my anxious mind, but only one sentence truly landed.
"You will never see your child if you leave, Cole. I promise you!"
I didn't stop. I didn't even look back.
I had to go to Sara.
I called her, but her phone was off.
Panic surged through me as I searched everywhere. I drove to our house. Empty.
I called Bobby. Then Steve. Nothing. Archie didn't answer my calls. I even called her best friend, Emma, even though she was living in another country.
No one knew where she was.
Until I found out she was here.
And now, here I was. Waiting. Hoping.
A sharp sting burned behind my eyes. I squeezed them shut, forcing the tears away.
A sudden knock on my window jolted me. My head snapped up, heart pounding, to find Herston Lowe—Archie's dad—peering inside. "Come inside the house, Cole," he said. "Janet's making breakfast."
I hesitated for a moment. The reason I stayed outside was simple. I didn't want to impose on Archie's family, especially with a possible confrontation with Sara, even though they felt like my own. In many ways, they were more of a family to me than my own parents ever were.
But more than that, I didn't want to corner Sara and make her feel forced into facing me before she was ready.
Still, I needed her to know that I was here. Waiting.
"Come on, Cole," Herston said, his tone as kind as ever. "It hurt Janet when she found out you spent the entire night out here."
I nodded and stepped out of the car. Looking up at the big man—who was even taller than me—I offered a hesitant smile.
"Sorry if I'm imposing," I said sheepishly. "I didn't mean to bother you."
He let out a heavy sigh, placing a firm hand on my shoulder.
"I don't know what's going on between you and Sara, and I hope it's not what I'm thinking," he said, his voice laced with warning. "But Janet and I listened to her crying through the wall almost the entire night in the guest room."
His grip tightened slightly. "If you made a mistake and want to make this right, you have to do whatever it takes. But only if it's what's truly best for both of you. Especially hers. Not just what you want. Your wife comes first. That's what a real man does. You hear me, son?"
I nodded, knowing he was right. But the thought of letting Sara go, of truly setting her free, was unbearable.
Because that was what was best for her.
To free her from me, from my betrayal, from the wreckage I had dragged into her life.
And from the daughter, I was about to have with another woman—a child who would forever be tangled in our story.
But I could never let Sara go.
My heart wouldn't survive it.
Herston walked ahead, and I trailed behind, my heart hammering in my chest. A tense mix of anticipation and unease settled over me.
I braced myself for how Sara would react when she saw me.
I wasn't sure if I could bear the hatred and disappointment I feared would be in her eyes.
When we got inside, I excused myself to their powder room to freshen up. But I ended up staying there too long, staring at my reflection, my mind racing with what I should say to Sara, if she would even listen.
How would I be able to control myself? To stop myself from rushing to her, pulling her into my arms, and telling her how much I loved her? And how sorry I was?
I couldn't risk scaring her.
She already hated me enough.
I splashed my face with cold water, the chill snapping me awake, then reached for a new toothbrush and toothpaste from the vanity drawer. I knew they always kept fresh ones, a habit I was familiar with from the countless times I had been here.
When I finally stepped out, I found only Herston and Janet in the kitchen.
Janet walked over and pulled me into a hug, and it took everything in me not to break down right then and there. There was something about her. She had that distinct motherly warmth that wrapped around you like a shield, offering comfort and safety, making you believe everything would be okay—even if it wasn't.
I wanted to hold on to that feeling. To hear her tell me I wasn't the despicable man I knew I was. To let her words push me to be better. For Sara. For myself.
She pulled back and met my gaze, eyes softening as if she understood everything without me having to say a word. She saw the guilt and the regret. My own eyes burned with unshed tears. I closed them briefly, shaking my head, trying to rein in the overwhelming emotions.
"Where's Sara?" I asked, my voice strained.
"At the back, by the pool," she answered gently.
I nodded and wordlessly walked to the back of the house, feeling their gazes following me. When I reached the double doors, I hesitated, standing there for a moment.
There she was. My wife. My Sara.
She sat under the umbrella; her legs crossed, shoulders slumped as if carrying a weight too heavy to bear. Her eyes were fixed on the city below; the house, perched atop a cliff, offered a view stretching endlessly beneath the morning sun—beautiful and serene, a stark contrast to the inner storm I knew she was enduring.
The storm that I had unleashed.
From where I stood, I could only see her in profile, but even then, her beauty still took my breath away.
Guilt crashed over me like a tidal wave, dragging regret along with it, suffocating me all over again.
A figure rose from the heated pool, immediately drawing my attention.
Archibald.
He rose from the heated water, droplets sliding down his tattooed skin. His black swim shorts, clinging to him, ended at mid-thigh. He was showing too much skin in front of my wife. My jaw tightened. My hands curled into fists at my sides as I watched him rake a hand through his wet hair, shaking off the excess water before making his way toward her.
Anger. Jealousy. A fire burned in my chest, scorching through every rational thought.
Like hell, I'd let him near her.
I shoved open the double doors and stepped outside. Archie was already in front of Sara, both of them unaware of my presence.
They were talking. He said something that made her smile—a sight that sent a sharp pang through my chest.
They only noticed me when I cleared my throat loudly as I walked over to them.
As I expected, the warmth vanished from Sara's face in an instant. The change was immediate, startling. One moment, she was soft, her lips curved ever so slightly. The next, her expression hardened into something cold.
Like I was nothing to her.
The realization hit me like a blow. To her, I wasn't anything anymore.
But that didn't mean I'd stop fighting for her.
Archie turned first, his sharp eyes raking over me, assessing. Sara didn't even bother looking my way. Instead, she exhaled slowly as if bracing herself. Then, with deliberate slowness, she uncrossed her legs and stood.
"Whatever you want to say, Cole," she said flatly as she walked past me, "I have nothing left to give."
Archie grabbed a towel from the lounge chair, running it through his damp hair. Our eyes met, a silent battle waging between us—unspoken challenges, unyielding stares.
I stood my ground as he sauntered toward me, his gaze unwavering, daring me to make a move.
"What?" he said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "You gonna throw more threats my way?"
He scoffed, shaking his head. "Look, whatever you think of me, it doesn't matter. What should matter is her. You should trust her. She's nothing like you. She won't cross the line. And me?" He paused, his expression hardening. "I'd never do that to her. I respect her too much."
Archie strode toward the house, leaving me standing there, bristling with anger. I clenched my fists, trying to rein it in, but deep down, I knew it wasn't just anger. It was insecurity. It was desperation.
Archie was a good man. The most innocent one in this whole mess. He saved my wife. From me.
He was the hero. And I was the villain.
I inhaled deeply, forcing myself to stay in control. Then, turning on my heel, I walked back inside.
The moment I stepped in, I found Sara standing face-to-face with Bobby and Steve.
Her voice rang out, sharp and furious. "You both fucking lied to me!"