42. Riley
The funeral is a plain,no-nonsense event. It’s at a church, and the mourners are a small crowd in black. Cole wanted to keep things standard, since it would be a small affair, and doing anything unorthodox might make it needlessly complicated.
Cole, Archie, and I arrive together. I wear a simple gown, something I already had in my closet. I don’t want to draw any attention to myself. As we step out of the car, it crosses my mind how different this is than the last event I attended with the Sullivans.
Archie, in a tiny, tailored suit that makes him look like Cole’s mini-me, reaches up to take one of each of our hands. He’s been handling the situation surprisingly well, but now that we’re here, things have gotten a little scary for him.
He’s facing a crowd of mostly strangers, some of whom are grieving openly. I don’t blame him for being nervous. Hell, I’m nervous, too.
As we approach the front doors of the church, I can’t help but notice that a few people turn their heads to glance my way. Their eyes are appraising, and I do my best to avoid the stares.
I know what they’re all thinking. They’re thinking the same thing I am: Is Cole here with his nanny, or is this something else?
The lines have gotten so blurry, it’s impossible to avoid crossing them these days. I’m so deep in his life, and the connection between us is so strong, so emotional. It feels like a joke to say that our feelings aren’t supposed to be involved.
In fact, everything in our stated agreement is starting to feel like a joke, laughable and arbitrary. We’ve broken so many rules that it’s almost pointless to leave any standing.
I’m relieved when I spot a few familiar faces in the crowd. Declan and Reed are there, and Declan’s fiancee, Sophie, has her hand tucked into the crook of his elbow. She gives me a friendly smile and a nod as we approach.
As we draw close to them, Reed claps a firm hand on Cole’s shoulder. “How are you holding up?”
Cole shrugs. “Fine.”
“Atta boy,” says Reed. “One-word answers as always. That’s our Cole.”
Declan rolls his eyes at Reed, then glances down at Archie. “Hey, bud. You’re looking sharp, huh?”
Archie stares up at Declan, his eyes round as saucers. Declan huffs a brief, unsmiling laugh.
“Yeah, I get it,” he says. “Too many serious grown-ups.”
“Not enough trains to play with,” Sophie adds with a chuckle. Declan glances at her, his eyes glowing with love, as she bends down to get on Archie’s level. “What’s new with you? I haven’t seen you in ages.”
“Got a new fish,” Archie says in a small voice.
“Wow, really? What’s his name?”
While Archie tells Sophie all about Swimmy, doing his best to overcome his shyness, Declan and Reed turn their attention to Cole.
“You’re okay, right?” Reed says quietly. “To give the eulogy, I mean. ’Cause that shit seems like it’s gonna be hard.”
Declan shoots Reed a look. “You heard the man. He’ll be fine.”
“If you need me to cause some kind of scene, I’m on it,” Reed offers, ignoring Declan. “Let’s see—” He cranes his neck, scanning the crowd. “Oh, yeah. This is a field I could play. You can go ahead and get a little drunk for your speech, nobody’ll remember that if I get caught in the coat closet with Angelina.”
“Reed, shut up,” Declan snaps, his voice commanding despite his obvious exasperation.
I glance at Cole, and notice to my surprise that he’s just barely suppressing a smile. I recognize the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. I realize that, in his own way, Reed must be trying to cheer him up—and it’s almost working.
Almost.
As we file into the pews and take our seats, the almost-smile slips from Cole’s face.
The service is short, so Cole doesn’t have to wait long before he stands up to take the podium. His posture is stiff, every bit as formal as his crisp, black suit. For a few moments, he’s silent, steeling himself.
Then he says into the microphone, “My father was… not a perfect man. Anyone here who knew him can tell you that. I don’t want to stand up here now that he’s gone and tell lies about his life, or about who he was.”
There’s a murmur through the crowd. From the pew behind me, I hear Reed mutter to himself, “Jesus fuck, Cole, I was joking.”
“But like all of us, he had plenty of potential,” Cole goes on. He speaks confidently, eloquently, and I feel the knot of nerves in my stomach begin to loosen. “I believe it would be a disservice to ascribe to him qualities he didn’t have, but there is still no shortage of positives to focus on. He was endlessly knowledgeable. He was hard working and fastidious. He instilled in me the value of attention to detail, and, in his own way, he taught me about the importance of family.”
Cole’s gaze darts to Archie for a brief moment. I think I understand what he’s saying. It’s not necessarily positive, but if it weren’t for the way his father acted, Cole might not be as committed to his own family.
He pauses, then goes on, with a touch of humor, “He was an excellent driving teacher.”
A muted laugh ripples through the crowd. Cole launches into the story of his first time behind the wheel, when his father taught him the purpose of the clutch and the brakes the hard way, by letting him stall the car repeatedly until it began to make sense.
As Cole’s eulogy goes on, I realize how touched I am by it. It’s the perfect way to handle this; to speak respectfully, but honestly, of the dead. He admits the truth—his dad wasn’t the best father—while still never condemning him as a person.
There’s a lot of emotion in his expression, anguish that I wish I could take away. The trauma and grief of his past always seem to weigh heavy on him, and now, they’re front and center. While he speaks at his father’s funeral, he doesn’t have the option of burying them, like he normally does.
Having known him for as long as I have, and getting as close to him as I am, I’ve realized something about Cole. He feels like this often. There’s something in him, deep inside, that’s broken.
More than anything, I wish I could fix it.
Cole wraps up his speech. He kept it short and simple, like everything else about this funeral, which is probably for the best. The gathered mourners nod respectfully as he descends from the podium, returning to his seat beside me in the pew.
Surreptitiously, as he sits down, he brushes his hand against the outside of my thigh. Through the gesture, I can feel how tense he is, and my heart aches for him.
When the service is over, the crowd files out into the foyer for a reception. Everyone lingers, paying their respects. A few people come up to tell Cole how moving his eulogy was. He gets through all of it with stiff nods and short replies.
I hover nearby Cole, keeping an eye on Archie. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be acting like his girlfriend or his nanny, and it’s probably safest to do the latter.
Eventually, Reed, Declan, and Sophie come back around to us.
“That was a great speech,” Reed proclaims. “I never doubted you for a second.”
Cole huffs. “Sure, you didn’t. I notice Angelina’s hair is still pinned up, so I’m gonna go ahead and assume that you didn’t try to score at my father’s funeral.”
“No, I did not,” Reed says with a mischievous grin. “I was very well behaved. These two kept an eye on me the whole time, you can ask them.”
Declan and Sophie both simultaneously roll their eyes, and once again, I see the look of amusement dancing in Cole’s gaze.
“In all seriousness,” Reed says, “I’m here for you, man. Anything you need, just say the word, okay?”
Cole nods. “Thank you.”
“Us, too,” says Declan. “You’ve got our support. Just give us a call.” Sophie nods along with him as he speaks.
Reed goes to gather all of their jackets from the coat check, and they get ready to leave. Before they do, Declan taps me on the shoulder.
I turn toward him, startled.
There’s a serious look on his face. “Take care of him, will you?”
“Of course,” I say automatically. It’s only after Declan has walked away, following Sophie and Reed, that I realize what he was implying.
That he was treating me like Cole’s girlfriend.
As we drive home, Archie, who has been very quiet throughout the whole funeral, starts to open up again, relieved to be out of the sad, dreary church. Cole and I sit in silence, listening to Archie chatter about nothing in the backseat.
Back at the house, the three of us eat a dinner that Cole whips up. Cole then puts on a movie to entertain Archie, and the three of us sit on the couch, watching together.
The events of the day have tired Archie out, and he doesn’t have the energy to make it through the full film. He ends up falling asleep with his head resting on my arm.
Cole lets him stay there, gently snoring, until the movie ends. Then Cole picks him up easily, without disrupting his sleep.
“I’ll put him to bed tonight,” he says. There’s a note of vulnerability in his voice as he adds, “Wait for me here?”
“Of course.”
He nods, holding my gaze for another moment before he turns and carries Archie from the room.
I’m still sitting on the couch when Cole returns a little while later. He stops in the doorway, and I turn to look at him over my shoulder.
“How’d it go?”
He leans against the door frame, his eyes fixed on mine. Deep and blue and alive. Hungry. Aching. Somber. Full of desire.
“He’s asleep.” His voice is strained and low.
I nod, swallowing hard. My heart patters faster as I watch Cole’s chest moving up and down.
“Good.” My own voice is no more than a croak.
It’s late, but I’m anything but tired. My pulse kicks up at the way Cole is looking at me.
He bridges the space between us a split second later.
In the next breath, he’s kneeling beside me. His hands are in my hair, on my face. His tongue is in my mouth. He groans, and a rush of his warm breath tickles my cheeks, sending goosebumps traveling across my skin.
In a single motion, he picks me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me toward his bedroom. There are no words spoken between us in this moment, because we don’t need any.
He closes his door behind us, and we make it to the bed. Cole sits down on the edge, settling me onto his lap.
“Thank you,” he murmurs into my neck, his lips brushing my skin.
“For what?” I whisper back, turning my head to kiss him again, greedy for his touch.
“For today.”
“You’re welcome. I was glad to be there to support you.”
Something passes through Cole’s expression, and he reaches around and unzips my dress. He undresses me, carefully and deliberately, then lays me out on the bed.
He worships me with his mouth and hands, taking me apart slowly until I’m panting and begging for more. Then he finally shoves his own clothes off, hooks my legs under the knees, and slides into me.
It’s intense and intimate, our gazes locked as he fucks me with a sort of raw desperation I’ve never felt from him before.
I know I’ll be sore tomorrow, but I don’t shy away from the edge of pain as he fills me up almost more than I can take with each forceful thrust. Instead, I pull him closer, wanting more—wanting everything he can give me.
Our lips break apart every time he drives into me, then find each other all over again, my nails digging into his back. Our bodies warm from the exertion, and I can feel a sheen of sweat on my skin as my heart hammers against my ribs.
“Riley,” he finally groans, sounding almost tortured.
“Come,” I beg. “Come with me, Cole. Please.”
He hasn’t even been working my clit with his fingers, but the overload of feelings rushing through me is enough to have me right on the edge just from the way he’s fucking me.
Pressing his forehead against mine, he drives into me a few more times, his gaze locked with mine. Then he lets out a primal groan as he empties himself inside me.
I grip the back of his head, my fingers buried in his hair as I arch beneath him. “Oh god. Oh fuck. Cole!”
I come hard, an orgasm that seems to fill every single atom in my body with pleasure, then finally go limp beneath him, breathing hard.
He slumps over me for a moment, and I relax under the heavy weight of him. Then he braces his arms on either side of my head, lifting up a little.
His eyes wander over my body, landing on my face last. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to my mouth.
My eyes flood with a sudden rush of tears, and when he pulls away, he notices. Worry etches his features as he uses his thumb to swipe away a rogue tear rolling down my cheek.
“Hey,” he whispers, his voice low. “What’s wrong? Was I too rough? Did I hurt you?”
I shake my head, brushing away more tears, my throat thick with emotion.
“No, it was amazing.”
His eyes search mine. “Then why are you crying?”
I take a deep breath, the words trapped in my throat.
I want to tell him I’m in love with him, but we’ve already broken every other rule, and this one seems like it crosses too many boundaries.
I’m afraid.
Afraid of rejection. That he won’t reciprocate.
I don’t want to ruin the moment, and I don’t think I’m ready to have my heart broken if he doesn’t feel the same way I do.
“Nothing. It’s just…”
I hesitate, not brave enough to say it. His gaze is searching, and I look away, taking a moment to gather my thoughts.
I can’t voice the exact words I want to say, but I also can’t keep it all inside, even if it is against the rules to admit how I feel.
So instead of blurting out the words that have been kept hidden away in my heart for a while now, I just run a hand through his hair, lifting my gaze to meet his again.
“You’ve changed my life,” I say quietly. “You’ve changed me.”
He leans down, pressing his lips against mine, warm and heartbreakingly tender.
“You’ve changed me too, angel.”