Please stop talking to me, Brenda.
Clueless Brenda waves her hand and continues. “Well, when you start a family, get yourself a nanny. Makes life so much easier. Carlita does everything for us.”
My grip on the spoon tightens.
What’s the point of having children if you’re not going to raise them or take care of them? I couldn’t imagine pawning my own kids off on someone else.
Then again, I don’t have my own kids. Therefore, I don’t get to have an opinion about them. Something people often remind me of, which is why I keep my opinions to myself.
I’m mixing the dip so aggressively the bowl topples over and clatters to the floor, flinging dip onto my dress, the cabinets, and the floor.
“Crap.” My cheeks burn, and I drop to my knees to start cleaning the mess.
Cole crouches beside me. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up?” He touches my hand, his voice gentle. “Go upstairs. Take a minute.”
I nod, keeping my head down, and then I bolt out of the kitchen. I take the stairs two at a time, my airways constricting, heart thrashing in my chest.
In the bathroom, I rest my shaking hands on the marble countertop, letting my head fall forward. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to speak louder than the thoughts screaming in my mind.
“Maverick. California king bed. Walk-in closet. Dream kitchen. Yard with a pool. Mercedes.”
I’m fine.
Everything’s fine.
It’s not Brenda’s or Jeff’s fault. They don’t know my situation. My heartache. Most people don’t realize they’re being insensitive. They don’t know they’re taking what they have for granted, because they can’t fathom not having everything they want. But some of us don’t get to have the things that are supposed to come naturally for us.
Some of us are broken.
I have to appreciate the things I do have. “Maverick. California king bed. Walk-in closet. Dream kitchen. Yard with a pool. Mercedes.”
I slip my sweater off and twist the chrome knob on the faucet, rinsing off the clumps of dip under the cold stream. I use a handful of wadded toilet paper to wipe the splatters off my dress, but there’s no salvaging the oil stains.
I swing open the bathroom door and let out a yelp. “Jesus, Cole. You need to start wearing a bell.”
“Just came to see if you’re okay.”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just clumsy.”
He arches a brow. “You should’ve just thrown the dip on Brenda and her geriatric husband instead of on yourself.”
I roll my lips together and stifle a laugh. “That’s not nice.”
He pops an unapologetic shoulder. “Never said I was.”
“Yet you’re here, checking on me.”
He doesn’t respond to that. His gaze moves to my arm, trailing down my bruised skin. The muscles in his jaw pop, and then his eyes flick back to mine. But he doesn’t ask what happened. The way he’s looking at me is as if he already knows the answer.
I push past him and make a beeline for Josie’s walk-in closet to look for something I can change into.
Cole follows me in, as if he’s not finished scrutinizing me with that intense stare.
I sigh after flipping through several hangers. “Josie’s too tall. None of her dresses will fit me. I should run home and change.”
“Or you could just stay in the dress you’re wearing.”
My nose scrunches. “And stay in a stained outfit all day?”
“Just a few stains, princess.”
I rest my hand on my hip. “Look, if you came up here to judge me, then you can go back downstairs.”
“That’s not why I came up here.”
“Then why did you?”
His teeth grind together, arctic eyes boring into mine.
“Awesome. More scowling.” I roll my eyes and brush by him to return to the bathroom.
He stops me, clasping my hand. “Callie, please wait.”
I look down at our joined hands, noting the difference in the way this man touches me versus my own husband.
Paul grips my bicep, forceful and hard, to keep me where he wants me.
Cole clasps my hand, asking me to stay.
And it makes me want to.
“I came to check on you because you looked upset, and you shouldn’t let entitled assholes like them upset you.”
When was the last time someone cared that I was upset?
“I’m fine.” I slip my hand out of his and head back to the bathroom.
I soak the corner of a hand towel with cold water and attempt to scrub the stains out of my dress again—just to prove a point.
I’m no princess.
Cole reappears in the doorway and leans against the doorframe. “What was that you were saying before you came out of the bathroom?”
I glance up at his reflection in the oval mirror. “What?”
“Sounded like you were talking to yourself when I came upstairs.”
Heat creeps across my chest and onto my neck. “It’s an exercise. Something I do when I feel anxious.”
“Maverick, dream kitchen ...” His chin tips. “What does it all mean?”
“Why, so you can use it to mock me?”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
His eyes offer a silent plea. The man looks tormented, desperate for something. Like he needs to hear this.
“When I started having panic attacks last year, my therapist told me to run through a list of all the things I’m grateful for. I think about what makes me happy, what I’m fortunate to have.”
“And that helps?”
I shrug and drop the towel onto the counter. “It takes my mind off of whatever’s stressing me in the moment. Plus, it puts things in perspective. When things seem bad, when I feel like I’m spiraling, I remind myself of the things I love.”
Cole lifts an eyebrow. “What about your husband?”
“What about him?” Paul’s voice has both me and Cole whirling around.
He steps through the doorway, making Josie’s enormous bathroom suddenly feel small and crowded, shifting the energy.
Quick to explain myself, I wave my arm in front of my dress. “Spilled onion dip on myself like a klutz.”
Paul presses his lips to my temple, eyes locked on Cole in the mirror. “That’s my clumsy girl.”
“This is Josie’s brother, Cole. He’s staying with them for a while.”
Paul snakes one arm around my waist and reaches out to Cole with the other. “Good to meet you.”
Cole glares at his hand like it’s poison, his body language that of a coiled rattlesnake. A warning.
Then, like he snaps out of a spell, he clasps Paul’s hand and gives it a firm shake. “Likewise.”
The two are so visually different, their contrasting colors and tones like black and white. Paul’s groomed golden hair versus Cole’s unruly coffee-colored tresses. Paul’s warm eyes, light brown like a rich honey, while Cole’s steel-blue orbs are cold and piercing. They’re both tall with athletic statures, but Cole is hard, lean muscle, whereas Paul’s muscles are bulkier.
On the outside, Paul seems like the friendly, more charming of the two. But I’ve seen what lurks beneath the surface. Appearances can be deceiving, which makes me wonder what’s really underneath Cole’s surly exterior.