Crap. I’m not sure I am up for company tonight. Megs has been amazing as always. After Cole left, her friendship had been my life vest keeping me from drowning those first years. It’s unfortunate that she and Simon broke up after he moved to New York with Cole. They’d have been together if it weren’t for me.
Me: Please don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine, I promise. I just need to be alone tonight.
Megs: What happened at the wake? That kind of tension was off the charts. Have you told him yet?
Me: Not yet. God. He was being such a cave man. We kissed again upstairs. What the hell am I doing, Megs?
Megs: You are Nor. He is Cole. It’s a given.
I huff a breath of frustration.
Me: He might have a life in New York for all I know. A girlfriend or a wife.
Megs: He doesn’t.
Me: How do you know?
This time she takes longer to reply. A thought tickles my mind and I feel excitement soar through me.
Me: You little vixen! Have you and Simon been humping like rabbits? Did he tell you that while he was reacquainting you with his Batman?
My phone beeps.
Megs: Simon told me. And no. There hasn’t been any reacquainting going on. I need to sort out the mess in my life first. Plus, I kind of hate men at the moment.
I chuckle under my breath. Yeah, right. Anyone with eyes could see how those two affected each other.
Me: Want to bet how long you’ll hate men?
Megs: I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer. Good night. Call me if you need me.
I smile and reach for my glass then gulp down its contents before I set it back on the table. I look around, taking in the string of lights hanging low above me. After moving in with Grandma, she had given me free rein to redecorate the roof terrace. We celebrated the twins’ birthday here on the roof last year.
I snuggle deeper into the loveseat, the fire crackling in the fire pit. I sigh and continue star-gazing. Cora and Joce fell asleep two hours ago, exhausted and emotionally spent. Lying here like this, reminds me of Cole and the nights he and I used to sit on my roof for hours. Sometimes the pain is just too much but I’ve learned to embrace it over the years. To turn it into something positive. Something peaceful.
One thing is for sure. My desire for Cole hasn’t waned. You’d think after nine years of being away from each other we’d be more reserved. But no. Our broken souls stirred awake the moment we set eyes on each other at the hospital. And now they thrive, nourished by being in each other’s presence. Every touch and each look stitches those parts in me I thought would never mend.
Crap. Stop it, Nor. Don’t torture yourself like this.
Cole and I still need to talk. The question is, will he forgive me after he knows the truth?
Earlier today, my mother called from Phoenix where she’s now living with her boyfriend, Pete. She couldn’t make it to the funeral, which I guess, is okay. They will be visiting in two months or so. She said she’ll call to confirm the exact date. She sounded happy, much more than when she lived at home. I’m glad for her. My father had done a lot of damage to her, he almost broke her completely. I feel content that Pete is taking good care of her. The last time I saw them was over a year ago when they came to visit us. He doted on her, held her, made her smile. They met a few years ago in group therapy. Pete was the attending therapist. It was love at first sight, that’s what she says.
My phone vibrates on the wooden table, forcing my gaze to leave the starless sky. I reach for my phone and click on the message flashing on the screen with my finger. Goosebumps trail down my arms and I squeeze my thighs together to ease the tingling between my legs. He isn’t even here and my body is responding to him with a vicious need.
Cole: I’m outside.
I don’t have the strength to deal with Cole right now. He’s too intense. Too everything. And that terrifies me and excites me at the same time.
He doesn’t have a girlfriend.
Me: Go home Cole. The girls are sleeping.
Cole: I’m not here to see the girls. We need to talk.
I sigh. Now is not the right time to talk.
Me: We’ll talk when you come back from Boston.
Seconds pass.
Cole: Nor.
Cole: Please.
I drag my body from the couch and shuffle down the steps. When I reach the front door, I remove the door chain, flip the locks, and peek out. Cole’s standing on the porch. His forehead is pressed on the wall. He’s not wearing his trusted beanie so his hair is on full display: wild and wavy. He tilts his head to look at me. I suck in a breath, taking in the tortured look on his face. The muscles on his shoulder and stomach flex as he pushes himself off the wall with his hands and straightens.
How can I turn him away, when he looks like this?
“Come on in.” I step aside to let him in.
He takes a step forward and stops in front of me. He dips his head into the crook of my neck. Inhales long and hard. I shiver. Warmth spreads across my skin and I’m dizzy, dying. He exhales even harder, pulling me back to life. I’m drunk from having his body so close to mine.
Oh.
God.
I can’t move. I need to move something. A hand. My legs. My mouth. Maybe kiss him and take those wasted breathes into my lungs.