Chapter 22
Except, it appears that he is. Proposing, that is.
“Colette Russell—”
“No.”
“You’re thirty, Colette. I’m thirty. We made a pact, and I’ve waited four-thousand-four-hundred days until I was able to call it in.”
My mind short circuits. “You’ve… I—No.”
“Why not?” he asks, and I laugh. Laugh!
I take the box out of his hand, closing it so I don’t have to see the most perfect fucking ring staring at me—mocking me. “People don’t get married because of a pact they made at eighteen, Benoit! Are you insane? And how much was that ring?! You should return it.”
“I’m not returning it.” His hand slides up my leg, stroking my thigh under my skirt. I bat it away because damn him for distracting me.
“Well, I’m not taking it. Get up! You need to leave.” I can hear the panic in my voice. Feel it in the way my heart is beating out of my chest.
Blessedly, he listens to me, getting slowly to his feet. “Five dates.”
“What?”
“Go on five dates with me. Then you can decide if I should return the ring,” he clarifies.
“No!”
“Five dates… please?” His brown eyes meet mine, flecks of gold dancing throughout his irises. He’s serious. I can tell just by looking that this isn’t a joke to him.
“Maybe. If I agree, we go on five dates,” I repeat. “And then you take the ring back.”
His grin is panty melting, and I really, really need him to leave before I do anything stupid. “Deal,” he mutters, handing me the box.
I pull my hand away from his. “You keep it until then. I don’t want it.”
“Wear it?” he asks, head dipping toward me. He’s a breath away when he whispers, “Please?”
I shake my head because that is ludicrous. I can’t wear this ring. It’s huge! People will notice!
“Please?” he asks again, lips brushing mine. The barest touch that sends an electric shock through me.
“Maybe,” I reply, because I’m no longer operating out of my prefrontal cortex.
That one word is all it takes, and then he’s kissing me fully.
His arms wrap around my waist, drawing me flush against his strong body.
I kiss him back until I remember what the fuck he just talked me into.
Then I put my hands between us and shove, hard.
“Out!” I gasp, but my heaving chest betrays me.
The motherfucker grins, leaning in to plant one more kiss on my forehead. He drops the ring box on the counter and then he’s gone. Leaving me reeling over whatever the fuck just happened.
Hey Thea. It’s Cole. Any chance you are free for coffee this week? Or I’m not sure if you can drink coffee when you’re pregnant…
Just googled it and there are mixed opinions but I’m happy to meet somewhere else too. Maybe Louie’s?
Fuck, why is this so awkward. I haven’t tried to make a new friend in… I actually don’t recall ever intentionally trying to make a friend. Thea and I have seen each other a few times and texted here and there but we haven’t really “bonded” yet. So here I am, trying.
And resenting the fact that it’s incredibly humiliating to put yourself out there like this.
Thea
lol yes I can drink coffee! But I’m also craving fried pickles from Louie’s so I’m happy to meet there!
How about tomorrow night?
Perfect.
Thea is already in a booth when I walk into Louie’s the next night. Her baby bump has grown since the last time I saw her. Obviously, Colette. That’s how it works! My palms are a bit sweaty as I make my way toward the table. Thea spots me and waves me over.
She moves to get up but I stop her. “No, no. Don’t get up for me.”
She smiles warmly at me, rubbing her belly absentmindedly. “How are you feeling?”
“Good,” she sighs. “Everything looks good with the baby, and I’m not huge yet so it’s pretty much smooth sailing right now.”
“That’s good. I know nothing about pregnancy. You’re the first pregnant person I’ve ever spent much time around,” I admit.
“Really? No other friends having babies yet?”
I wince because she accidentally hit a nerve. Trying to school my features, I reply, “I don’t have a ton of friends. None, actually.”
Her lips tilt up in a sad smile, and my stomach drops.
I don’t want pity. I’ve never wanted pity.
The thought of her feeling sorry for me almost propels me out of my seat and straight back home.
She surprises me though when she says, “Me either. Unless you count Chloe.” Thea lifts one shoulder in a resigned shrug.
Relief crashes over me. “Oh my God, that’s so great.” Her face twists, and I play what I just said back in my head. Shit. “Not like that! Sorry. It’s not great that you don’t have friends. It’s just… really nice to find someone else who has had a similar experience.”
“Yeah, I get that,” she sighs. “My mom died when I was young so I never really saw a good example of female friendships. I was close with my cousins growing up—still am—but I was so focused on ballet for most of my youth that I didn’t have time to cultivate friendships.”
I nod, because in a way we have a lot in common. “Both of my parents are still alive but I don’t talk with them often. After they divorced, I think my mom saw an opportunity to ‘re-do’ her early twenties. I moved here with my dad in middle school, but he retired to Florida a few years back.”
“That would be hard.” Thea’s tone is sympathetic. “I can’t imagine not having my dad around to help with Chloe.”
“I don’t think either of them ever wanted to be parents. They haven’t said outright but I think I was a failed attempt to save the marriage.” I pause, considering how much I want to divulge. “It’s part of the reason I don’t want kids of my own.”
Most people try to talk you into having kids when you admit you don’t want them.
I especially expected that from Thea, who is on the way to having two kids of her own.
Yet, Thea continues to surprise me. “That makes a lot of sense,” she simply states.
“People need to listen to their gut when it comes to a lot of things, but especially whether or not they want to have kids.”
My mind flashes to Ben… to his flippant admission to having a vasectomy.
Then again to the ring that is hidden in my underwear drawer.
For the first time, I start to visualize what a life with Ben could look like.
Start to unpack the box I’ve put him in, questioning whether or not he actually fits the idea of him I’ve had in my mind all these years.
“Earth to Cole.” Thea waves her hand in front of my face, interrupting my thought spiral. When I refocus on her, I can see the worry lining her features. “I thought I lost you there for a minute. Did I offend you with my comment about having kids?”
“Not at all,” I reply. “It is refreshing to not have someone try to convince me that ‘kids are a gift’ and ‘what if I change my mind,’ yada yada.”
Louie brings over an order of fried pickles and a plain burger for me. “It’s on the house ladies, so make sure you order dessert.” He winks.
“On the house?” I ask.
“Jules?” Thea guesses.
“Close,” Louie replies, looking pointedly at me. Then he turns around and walks away, not ever giving us an answer.
Thea pops a pickle in her mouth and then leans forward on the table. “So… Ben is buying our dinner? That’s what Louie was implying, right?”
I take a page out of Louie’s book and also avoid answering that question. “How are things with you and Jules?”
Thea raises a single eyebrow. “I’ll allow you to redirect for now, but if we’re going to be friends, I expect you to come back to that at some point.” When I nod, she continues. “Jules and I are… complicated. Actually, Jules is perfect. I’m the complicated one.”
“Felt,” I reply.
“My ex—Chloe’s dad—was a complete asshole. Something I probably need to dive deeper into in therapy. And I feel bad that Jules is dealing with the fallout of that, in a way. But he’s so patient, so kind to me.”
“And the sex?” I ask, pumping my eyebrows a few times.
Thea slams her palms down on the table, sending a pickle flying. “Don’t even get me started on the sex.” She winks.
Laughing at her dramatics, I reply, “Good for you, Thea.”
“Could be good for you, too…” she sing-songs.
“Maybe.”
Maybe.
The rest of dinner is an absolute joy. I forgot how nice it is to open up to someone, to joke and tell stories.
I was sufficiently distracted, but when I get home later in the evening, I beeline to my underwear drawer and pull out the small velvet box that’s hidden there.
Popping it open, I take the ring out, admiring how it sparkles even in the low light glowing from my lamps.
Slowly, I slide it onto my left ring finger.
It fits perfectly.
Of course it does.
Maybe I can just wear it around the house. It’s too pretty to sit, untouched, in my drawer. Wearing it when no one is around can’t hurt, right?
Right.