Chapter Forty-Four
CODE RED AT TARGET
Andi
“We need to talk about your grocery shopping habits.”
Cole looks up from where he’s examining a box of cereal like it holds the secrets of the universe. “What’s wrong with my grocery shopping habits?”
“You’ve been staring at that box of Lucky Charms for five minutes.”
“I’m reading the nutritional information.”
“No, you’re not.” I lean against the cart, watching him. “You’re trying to figure out if the marshmallows have gotten smaller since you were a kid.”
His mouth twitches. “They definitely have.”
“Cole.”
“Corporate shrinkflation is a real problem, Andi.”
I grab the box and toss it in the cart. “You’re twenty-six years old.”
“And?” He follows me down the aisle, hands in his pockets. “Age doesn’t diminish my appreciation for magically delicious breakfast foods.”
We turn the corner and nearly collide with another cart. The woman pushing it looks up, and her face brightens like its Christmas morning.
“Cole?”
I watch as recognition dawns on his face, followed immediately by what I can only describe as mild panic.
“Stephanie. Hey.”
She’s pretty in that yoga-instructor-who-actually-does-yoga way. Blonde ponytail, Lululemon everything, one of those giant reusable water bottles.
“Oh my gosh, it’s been forever!” She touches his arm, and I have the sudden urge to hit something. Mostly her. “How are you? Still fighting fires?”
“Yeah, still at it.” He steps back slightly, closer to me. “Uh, Stephanie, this is Andi. My girlfriend.”
Stephanie’s smile falters for exactly one second before she recovers. “Oh! Hi! So nice to meet you.”
She doesn’t mean it. I can tell by the way her eyes do this quick scan of me—taking in my faded band tee, ripped jeans, the fact that I’m buying generic cereal while she’s got a cart full of organic everything.
“Likewise,” I say, not bothering to match her fake enthusiasm.
“So how long have you two been together?” she asks, still looking at Cole like I might disappear if she ignores me hard enough.
“Six months,” he says, sliding his arm around my waist. “Best six months.”
The possessive gesture shouldn’t make my stomach flutter. But it does.
“That’s... great.” Stephanie’s voice goes up at the end like it’s a question. “You know, I always wondered what happened with us. We had such a good thing going.”
Oh. Hell. No.
“Did you?” I ask sweetly. “Because from what Cole’s told me, you had a habit of ‘forgetting’ to mention your other boyfriend.”
Cole coughs. Stephanie’s face goes red.
“That was—I mean—it was complicated.”
“Cheating usually is,” I agree, still smiling like we’re discussing the weather.
Cole’s hand tightens on my hip. I can’t tell if he’s trying to hold me back or hold himself back from laughing.
“Well.” Stephanie straightens her perfect ponytail. “I should go. Brad’s waiting in the car.”
“Brad?” Cole asks. “The personal trainer?”
“Investment banker,” she corrects quickly. “It’s new, actually.”
“Congratulations,” I say. “I hope he knows about all of you.”
She shoots me a look that could peel paint, then turns back to Cole with this tragic expression. “It was really good seeing you, Cole. You look... happy.”
“I am,” he says simply.
She wheels her cart away like she’s fleeing a crime scene. The second she rounds the corner, Cole turns to me.
“Did you just—”
“Defend your honor? Yes.”
“That was—”
“Petty? Also yes.” I grin.
He stares at me for a beat, then crushes his mouth to mine right there in the cereal aisle. When he pulls back, we’re both breathing hard.
“That,” he says against my lips, “was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Really? Because I have follow-up questions about the personal trainer.”
He groans. “Can we not?”
“Was his name actually Brad? Because that feels too on the nose.”
“Andi.”
“Did he wear those tiny tank tops? The ones with the aggressive arm holes?”
“I’m going to kiss you again to make you stop talking.”
“That’s not really a deterr—”
He makes good on his threat, backing me against the shelf of Frosted Flakes. This kiss is different. Deeper. His hand slides into my hair, and I forget we’re in public until—
“Excuse me.”
We break apart to find an elderly woman glaring at us over her glasses.
“Some of us are trying to shop,” she says pointedly.
“Sorry,” Cole says, not looking sorry at all. “We were just—”
“I can see what you were doing.” She sniffs. “In my day, we kept that sort of thing private.”
“Ma’am,” I say seriously, “in your day, people were doing it in the backs of Buicks. At least we kept our clothes on.”
Her mouth opens and closes like a fish. Cole makes this choking sound that might be horror or laughter.
“Well, I never—”
“Clearly,” I mutter.
Cole grabs my hand and the cart, steering us away before I can cause more scandal. We make it two aisles over before he loses it completely, laughing so hard he has to lean against the freezer section.
“You just—that poor woman—”
“She started it.”
“You told an old woman she wasn’t getting laid enough.”
“I implied it. There’s a difference.”
He pulls me against him, still shaking with laughter. “You’re a troublemaker.”
“You love it.”
“I do.” He kisses my forehead. “I really, really do.”
“Good. Now can we talk about how your ex shops in the bougie Target? Because that feels like information you should’ve shared.”
“Can we talk about how you went full territorial?”
“I did not—” I stop. “Okay, maybe a little.”
“A little?” He grins. “Babe, you practically peed on me to mark your territory.”
“That’s gross.”
“And accurate.”
I shove him, but he just catches my hands and pulls me closer.
“For the record,” he murmurs, “I liked it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He glances down the aisle, then back at me with this look that makes my knees weak. “You know what? Let’s go.”
“We haven’t finished shopping.”
“Don’t care.” He’s already pushing the cart toward checkout. “I need to get you home.”
“Cole, we need actual food—”
“Lucky Charms count as food.”
“No, they don’t.”
“They’re fortified with vitamins. Says so on the box.”
“You’re impossible.”
“And you’re hot when you’re jealous.” He stops walking, turns to face me. “Like, seriously hot. I’m having thoughts.”
“In Target?”
“Especially in Target.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling. “Fine. But we’re coming back tomorrow for real groceries.”
“Deal.” He leans down, lips brushing my ear. “But right now, I need to show you exactly how much I appreciate you putting my ex in her place.”
My whole body goes warm. “That’s... acceptable.”
“Just acceptable?”
“Take me home and we’ll upgrade it to enthusiastic.”
He practically sprints to the checkout.
The teenage cashier looks at our pathetic haul—Lucky Charms, milk, and the emergency bottle of wine I grabbed—and smirks. “Big dinner plans?”
“The biggest,” Cole says seriously.
I elbow him. The cashier’s smirk widens.
“Would you like bags?”
“Definitely bags,” I say quickly. “All the bags. Speed is good.”
Cole’s hand finds the small of my back, thumb stroking in a way that’s definitely not helping my composure. The cashier takes his sweet time, because apparently the universe hates me.
“You guys have a rewards card?”
“No,” we say in unison.
“Would you like to sign up? You get—”
“We’re good,” Cole interrupts. “Really good. Just the cereal. And the wine. Mostly the wine.”
The kid finally gets the hint and finishes ringing us up. Cole throws cash at him, grabs our bag, and practically drags me out of the store.
“Smooth,” I say as we hit the parking lot. “Real subtle.”
“Says the woman who just verbally destroyed my ex in the cereal aisle.”
“She had it coming.”
“She did.” He opens my door, caging me against the car for a moment. “And now, so do you.”
“That was terrible.”
“You love my terrible lines.”
I do. Heaven help me, I really do.
“Home,” I say. “Now.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He kisses me once more—quick and hard and full of promise—then rounds the car.
As we pull out of the parking lot, I catch sight of Stephanie loading her organic groceries into a Tesla. She sees us too, and her expression could curdle milk.
I might wave.
Just a little.
Cole catches me and laughs. “Troublemaker.”
“Your troublemaker,” I correct.
“Yeah,” he says, reaching over to lace our fingers together. “Mine.”
And somehow, in the Target parking lot with a box of Lucky Charms in the back and my lipstick probably smeared everywhere, that word feels like everything.