“I like that idea.” His eyes darkened as I pulled away. Another time, another day, and we would’ve lain back down in that bed—when he didn’t have to bury a loved one.
Cole dressed, and I stayed in bed, content to just listen to him moving around. I closed my eyes at one point. It was nice to hear another person in my home, one I knew was alive. I hadn’t realized how the emptiness had bothered me, but that wasn’t why I’d allowed Cole into my bed. Why I was doing that, I wasn’t thinking about. He came over, and I wanted this. Every time. I knew I’d be waiting for the next time he rang my elevator. I’d let him up, and it wouldn’t matter whether he gave me answers or not. Maybe I was a fool, or maybe I was at a place in my life where I didn’t need to care. I was ready to just be.
I’d think later. I’d worry later. Right now, I’d just feel.
He came back to leave a lingering kiss on my lips and another on my forehead before he left. “I have your number,” he said as he turned away. “I’ll text you from the plane.”
A moment later, I heard the elevator going up.
Two weeks went by.
It was fun at first. We texted each other. He sent a picture from an airplane seat—another tidbit he let slip. I wasn’t a world traveler, but I’d been inside enough regular airplanes to recognize a private airplane when I saw one.
The texts started off flirty: What was I wearing? How tight was his suit? How lonely were my nights? I reciprocated, asking if he’d found a new “friend” to replace me. I’d thought the text was teasing, but as soon as I hit send, I realized I meant it.
Cole was gorgeous. He could have his pick of women. Why had he picked me?
The question plagued me, and I immediately heard Sia’s screech in my mind. If she’d heard my question, she would’ve corrected me. He didn’t pick me. He got lucky with me. Men weren’t the hunters in her life. They were her prey. I also felt a stab of guilt that I was still keeping my involvement with Cole a secret from her. I wasn’t ready to say anything, though. Plus, it’d been two nights. That didn’t constitute something to talk about, yet. She would’ve had questions. Who was he? What did he do? How serious were we? What was I feeling about the relationship? All solid questions, but no solid answers. I couldn’t reply to any of them, especially the one about how I was feeling about whatever it was between Cole and me.
I had no idea.
I liked him. I got excited about him. He made me feel alive. He put my blood on a constant simmer, where it could flame up and boil at any moment. That was how our two nights had been. I’d felt alive, but I was starting to go through withdrawals. He was like a drug. One hit and I was addicted, or close to it. Maybe a few hits? Who was I trying to kid? I was completely addicted and going through detox, but it was a detox I hadn’t signed up for.
When was he coming back?
That thought ran through my head a few times a day, and every time it did, I felt foolish. I was a mature woman. I wasn’t a young twenty-something. Or a teenager. Two nights together shouldn’t be making me feel this yearning for him, or have me replaying how it felt when he stepped off my elevator and held onto me, or what it was like holding hands with him on the couch.
But it did. And every time I thought those things, my level of missing him went up a notch.
Sia was happy with Jake, and I was thankful. That kept her distracted enough not to worry too much about me or even focus on me when we got together for lunch or drinks a few times each week.
Cole seemed to sense that I hadn’t been entirely kidding with that text, and his messages grew more serious after that: Never. I want to come back as soon as I can. Business is getting in the way. The rest of his texts were similar. He really did seem to want to know how I was, if I slept okay at night. He texted once, Dorian said you were walking the track late last night. You okay?
He’d been asking about me. A warmth spread through me, tingling all the way to my toes. I immediately wanted to shake that off and roll my eyes, but I couldn’t. Instead, I thumbed back, My bed seems empty now. Your fault.
A few more days. I’ll make it up to you. ;)
The few days turned into two more weeks.
The texts grew random and slowed. It was what it was. The detox was in full effect. After no communication in the fifth week he’d been gone, it was time I dealt with some of my feelings. I wasn’t going to date anyone else. I wasn’t even going to date Cole, but I wasn’t going to wait for his texts anymore.
I went to see my realtor one day. We were in her office, and I wasn’t thinking about Cole. Nope.
“Addison.”
I’d been thinking about Cole. Cursing myself, I turned back to Heather’s voice.
She hadn’t come alone into the conference room. Three men followed her.
I stood and managed a half-smile. “Hello.”
The first man looked me over, a smile plastered on his tanned and weathered face. His hair was dark, unnaturally dark. He looked to be in his later fifties, and he was tall, probably close to six feet. A gut stuck out beneath his suit jacket. The other two, both scowling, walked in behind him. They ignored my outstretched hand and claimed their seats, leaving the seat across from me open. They placed their briefcases on the table.
“Ms. Sailer.” The first one finally shook my hand, giving it a firm pump. “I’m Alfred Mahler. I’m from Mahler and Associates. I’m representing your in-laws, Mr. and Mrs. Sailer. It’s a pleasure to have met you.” He glanced around the room. “Heather, I thought Ms. Sailer would have legal representation with her?”