42. Cole
As I drifted into consciousness,before my eyes even opened, I felt something on my chest. There was pressure and vibrations. There was also a weird buzzing sound in my ear, almost like a quiet motor.
Was I having a stroke?
Were these symptoms of a heart attack?
Had something fallen on me?
I managed to force my lids up, and the mystery of the strange sensation and sound was solved.
Lady Whiskerdown, whom Bailey called Whiskey during her Taylor Swift performance, was kneading her paws into my chest and purring loudly.
“Good morning.” I scratched her behind the ear, and she rubbed her face into my palm.
I turned my head and saw that the bed was empty. Bailey was already awake. Keeping one hand on Whiskey to hold her against me, I sat up and grabbed my phone, which I’d gone and gotten after I woke up at six o’clock, and we’d had round two.
It was nine a.m. now. There were no missed calls or texts from Sara or Carly, and I exhaled the breath I always held any time I was away from my phone or sleeping when I wasn’t in the house with them. I felt like I was always on alert, bracing myself for the next emergency. It was exhausting. I set Whiskey on the bed, and she meowed in protest.
“Hold on,” I told her as I got dressed in my boxers, shirt, and sweats.
When I picked her up again, she curled into a ball against my chest and purred loudly.
I walked down the short hall and made a quick stop at the bathroom. I set Whiskey on the floor before I went in, and when I stepped out, she was still there looking up at me, so I picked her back up.
The front room was empty, leaving only one place that Bailey could be. I walked into the kitchen and found her sitting at the table.
“Hey!” She sat up straight when she saw me.
“Morning.”
Her energy was different than I’d ever seen. She seemed on edge. I’d never seen her on edge even when brides were hysterically screaming at her, grooms went missing, and bridesmaids ripped their dresses seconds before they were meant to walk down the aisle, all of which I’d witnessed.
Before my ass even hit the seat, she’d sprung up out of hers like a snake in a can. “Do you want coffee?”
Her behavior was setting off alarm bells. Last night, I’d thought we’d made a breakthrough. She was single. I was single. We both missed each other and wanted to be together. Sure, we hadn’t declared our undying love to each other, but it was a start. And for the record, I would have been more than happy to tell her that I loved her. Hell, I had to stop myself from doing just that.
Without waiting for me to respond, she poured the coffee and set the mug in front of me as Whiskey curled up on my lap.
“She doesn’t usually like people. Men, especially.”
A crooked grin lifted as I repeated what she’d called me; “I’m the cat whisperer, remember?”
Her brow furrowed a tiny bit before her eyes widened. I couldn’t help but chuckle, knowing that she was most likely recalling the moment when she pointed at her crotch and called me that, which, for the record, I’d thought was fucking adorable.
She shook her head and shook her hands out in front of her as she walked to the sink, then to the fridge.
“Is everything okay? You seem…wound up.”
“I think, um, yeah, we need to talk.”
In the history of the world, had anything good ever followed those four words?
“Okay.”
She walked back and sat down. After taking a deep breath, she licked her lips and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Her foot was tapping on the white and black checkered tile. Her gaze dropped down to her hands, which were wringing in front of her on the table.
I leaned forward and covered both of her hands with mine. My thumb caressed her wrist, and I could feel her heartbeat racing wildly. “Hey.”
Her gaze lifted to meet mine.
“Whatever it is, it’s okay. It’s me. Just say it.”
As she looked into my eyes, I saw her own eyes tearing up. Before I could say anything, she pulled her hands back from mine.
Inside, I braced myself to hear—it’s not you, it’s me.
“This would be a lot easier if you weren’t so…disarming.”
Disarming?That was a new one. I wasn’t sure why that was a bad thing, but from the look on her face, she definitely considered that it was.
“Last night, I was drinking because of how upset I was that you were at the wedding with Charli.”
“I told you, that was a job?—”
She lifted her hand to silence me. “I know. I know it was. But when I thought it wasn’t, I finished off a bottle and a half of wine by myself.”
“I thought you said the first bottle was only half full.”
Her brow creased. “Did I? Well, apparently, being drunk does not actually make you tell the truth.”
I couldn’t help but grin, even though I felt like Mike Tyson was using my nut sack as a speedbag, because I was pretty sure she was breaking up with me, not that we’d even been together.
She took a breath. “The point is, I don’t think we should see each other.”
“Why? Why not?” It wasn’t the most poetic of responses, but I felt like I was going to puke.
“I have wasted the past twenty-plus years pining after a man who was not right for me.”
Now, it felt like Tyson had just landed a right to my balls. “You don’t think I’m right for you?”
“We’re not… compatible.”
“How so?”
“You’re more than a decade younger than me, which is not a bad thing because obviously you’re mature, but, still, there is that. You date women as a job?—”
“That’s temporary. I’m getting my contractor’s license, and then, hopefully, I’ll be able to phase that part out of my life within a year,” I argued.
“That’s great. I know you’re going to be really successful, but we’re in different places in our lives. You’re just starting out, and I’m ready to settle down. I’ve been single for a long time, and I want to be with someone. To have a family, whatever that looks like.”
As much as I wanted to argue with her that we could make this work, it wouldn’t be fair for her if I did. I knew I couldn’t give her everything she wanted at that moment. The commitment, the family, and everything she deserved. I had commitments and a family already.
I felt sick to my stomach. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to beg her to give me, to give us a chance. But I knew that wasn’t the right thing to do.
If that was how she felt about me, I had to respect her wishes. Her boundaries. Clearly, from looking around her apartment turned florist shop, other people in her life didn’t. I wasn’t going to be that guy.
Her phone rang, and she looked down and bit her lip. “I’m sorry, I’ve been waiting for this call. I have to take it.”
I nodded and set Whiskey down so I could go put my shoes on. I only found one sock, but I didn’t feel like taking the time to try to find the other. If this was really over, I thought it would be better to rip it off like a Band-Aid.
She was still on the phone when I grabbed my keys from the counter where I’d set them the night before. “Let me know if you want me to bid on your house.”
Her eyes widened, and she covered the receiver with her hand. “You would still do that?”
I’d do anything just to be near you. I thought to myself.My feelings were painfully clear to me; I had no idea how she couldn”t see it.
“Yeah, it’s business.”
“Right.” She nodded. “Um, yeah. Billie has the information. I’ll have her email you.”
Before I left, I walked over and kissed her. I could hear the person on the phone talking as I slid my lips against hers, then pressed them softly once more as I whispered, “Goodbye, Bailey.”
Just before the door shut, I looked back and saw her lift her hand to her lips. She felt it, too. I know she did. It might not be everything, but it was something. A small glimmer of hope that she’d realize she was wrong about me being the wrong guy.
Or even if she still thought I was the wrong guy, maybe I could just be the right wrong guy for her.