“I’m sorry for you,” I told him.
He pulled back, gazing down at me. His eyes clouded.
I pulled my hand against my chest. “I mean the funeral. You’ll have to go through all of that.” I remembered Liam’s. “Trust me, it’s going to suck.”
The cloud disappeared. A new emotion lurked there—one I couldn’t name.
“Funerals always suck,” he said, almost roughly. He rolled in one smooth movement to sit on the edge of the bed. I sat up with him, pulling the sheet to cover my breasts. He glanced over his shoulder. “I’ve been to too damn many of them. You?”
“Liam’s.”
The corners of his mouth turned down. “Hey, I didn’t say it last night, but thank you for telling me a little about him. Your husband.”
My throat swelled up. “Yeah.”
“I lost my family when I was little.”
I lifted my head.
“I know what it’s like to lose your family.” His hand covered mine on the bed between us. “I’m an ass—coming in, sleeping with you, and not telling you much about me.”
I laughed. “Trust me, I’ve asked myself more than a few times what the hell we’re doing. But you came back.” I clutched the sheet tighter and shrugged. “And here we are. Again.”
“You’re okay with this?”
“I…It is what it is.”
“What does that mean?”
“Go to your funeral.” I scooted forward and pressed a soft kiss to the back of his shoulder. “Bury your friend, and then come back to me. Maybe we can figure it out more then.”
“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.