“Thanks, Cole,” I said quietly, a little taken aback by the compliment as I reached for my water and downed half the glass.
“Don’t get embarrassed,” he said, totally calling me out as he worked on one of the three waffles on his plate.
“I’m not. It’s just …” I paused for a second. “I’m not used to having someone be so supportive.” I started shaking my head because that wasn’t it at all. “That sounds wrong and isn’t what I meant. I just … I think I’m more comfortable with encouraging you to chase your dreams than talking about mine.”
“Why the hell would you be more comfortable with encouraging me than yourself?” He sounded as bewildered as I felt.
“I don’t know.” I started to work out the reasoning in my mind. “I think because my goals feel so private, and talking about them out loud makes them really real. And then if I fail, I won’t be the only one who knows it.”
He chewed on his food, nodding, like what I’d said made complete sense to him. “I get it.”
“That doesn’t sound stupid?”
“Not at all. Our goals are private. They’re personal as hell. I mean, everyone knows that I want to get drafted. I never got to keep that to myself. And you’re right; if it doesn’t happen for me, everyone will know. But the flip side is, if it does—”
“When it does,” I interrupted because I refused to sit here and listen to him talk about his future as if was an option.
He cleared his throat and took a drink. “Okay. When it does, everyone will know.”
“And they’ll celebrate with you,” I added with a knowing nod.
“Yeah. Same thing goes for you,” he said, but I wasn’t convinced.
People wanted to be a part of other people’s successes, especially when it came to athletes and anyone in the celebrity spotlight, but I wasn’t so sure that applied to someone like me and what I wanted to do.
“You know how good you are, right?”
“You know how good you are, right?” I fired back before giving my waffle attention.
“I mean it.”
“So do I.”
“You’ve always believed in me,” he said, and I knew he was thinking back to some specific moment we had shared over the years. “You told me I’d get drafted. You told me I could do anything I wanted.”
“I meant it. I still do. I want you to get drafted, Cole. I always have. Even when I hated you. Even when you didn’t deserve it. I’ve always wanted you to succeed.”
“Why?” he asked, and I knew he was truly wondering how someone who hated him could still root for him.
“Because it’s important to you. And because I believe in you. And I want you to succeed.”
“I’m so mad right now,” he said as he chewed on his food like it was in trouble in his mouth.
“Mad? Why are you mad?”
“I feel like I wasted so much time convincing myself that I couldn’t have this.” He waved his arm in my direction. “And we could have. We should have been together this whole time, and it’s my fault we haven’t been.”
I sucked in a quick breath, hoping my next words would help calm him down. “We can’t change the past, Cole. You know that, right?” I asked, and he nodded even though I could tell that he didn’t want to agree. “Let’s make a decision right here, right now,” I insisted as I put my fork down and leaned toward him, my elbows on the small table between us.
“I’m listening.”
“We don’t go back. We don’t spend our time focusing on what we could have done differently or what we should have done or how we could have been better to each other. We only look toward the future. And we live there. Deal?” I asked as I extended my hand toward him.
“Deal,” he said as he reached for my hand, shook it, and then kissed the top as a soft grin appeared.
Best First Date in the History of First Dates
Cole
I’d been right about the waffles. And the restaurant’s lack of social media presence. The owner didn’t see the need, claimed that business was plenty busy without it. And while Christina didn’t argue that particular point, she did appeal to his other senses when he stopped by our table to say hello. She told him that the goal didn’t have to be about getting new customers, but more about showcasing the restaurant’s history, staff, and menu.
He loved her idea, claimed it was something that no one had explained to him before, and then he kissed her on the cheek without warning. I allowed it, considering he was about a hundred and five years old. Christina walked out of brunch with a full stomach and a new client.
“You’re incredible, you know that?” I pulled her hand to my lips and pressed a kiss there. I’d found myself doing that a lot with her. It seemed safer than constantly trying to maul her face, which, trust me, I wanted to do.
“Thank you.” She looked down for a second before lifting her head back up.
“How did you do that back there?” I asked.
Watching her in action was thrilling. She was so damn good at what she did. It was fun to see. I wondered for a second if that was how it felt for her to watch me play baseball.
“I listened. Being a good social media manager is about hearing what your client wants to sell or offer the public. What’s their angle? Mr. Barlow has no interest in advertising. And he’s right. He doesn’t need to. But I think it’s a shame to not let people know this place exists. There’s so much history. Did you know that Frank Sinatra ate there? More than once!” Her voice was ecstatic, and it was fucking adorable.
“I heard him say that,” I said with a grin as I pulled her door open, and she got inside.
She waited for me to get in the truck before she finished talking. “I’ll use the platforms to showcase how the restaurant has changed throughout the years. And how it hasn’t. Show old pictures, original menus, things like that. But also, the food. Because you wouldn’t expect food that tastes that good to come from a place that looks like that.”
“Told you,” I said, sounding more than a little smug.
“You were right.” She nudged me with her arm.
I sucked in a breath before asking if she was ready for the next part of our date. She nodded with a beautiful smile, and I drove off with one place in mind.
I drove all the way to the top of the parking structure, which was thankfully empty, before cutting the engine.
“You brought us here?” she asked as she looked around, her voice sounding more than a little shocked.
“Yeah. It’s kind of our place, right?” I said because I had always associated this structure with her. It was where we’d stayed up all night together and talked about the kinds of things that I never talked about with anyone. “It reminds me of you,” I added, and she looked at me, a soft half-smile appearing. “I come here when I need to get away from it all.”
“I honestly figured you brought all the girls here.”
“All the girls?” I asked, thoroughly confused. “What girls?”
She rolled her eyes and gave me an annoyed huff. “Don’t act like you’ve been some sort of saint this whole time. I know you’ve slept with other girls besides me.”