"And by we, you mean you, Samantha, and myself?"
"Yeah, that way, I can help you with the conversation part.She might open up quicker since I'm a woman.Emma came up with the idea, and I love it.What do you think?"
Instead of answering, he stares at my fingers drumming on his torso.The moment stretches between us, charged with something I'm not ready to name.My flamingo pink nails catch the light as they tap against the crisp white fabric of his shirt.His chest rises and falls under my touch, steady but quickening.
His hands come up slowly, deliberately, to cover mine.The warmth of his skin seeps into my palms, and suddenly the kitchen feels too small, too warm.
"Alisha."My name in his voice sounds different—rougher, deeper.I drag my gaze up to meet his, andoh—there's something in those blue eyes I haven't seen before.Something that makes my heart skip and my breath catch.
For a heartbeat, I let myself wonder how those hands would feel trailing down my spine, how that voice would sound whispering against my neck—
"Oh, sorry for interrupting."
Cole releases me as he steps back, his attention snapping to Samantha in the doorway.I'm still trying to remember how to breathe normally.
"You didn't interrupt.Do you need anything?"
"Uh, yes, Nick and Emma want coffee."Her eyes dart between us, a hint of a knowing smile playing at her lips.
I press my hands to my cheeks, hoping to cool the flush I can feel rising there.What just happened?More importantly—whatalmosthappened?
Focus, Alisha.Focus.
But as I watch Cole help Samantha with the coffee, trading awkward but genuine smiles, I realize I might be in more trouble than I thought.Because this man—this grumpy, protective, trying-his-best father—is becoming harder to resist with every passing minute.
And that scares me more than any stalker ever could.
8
COLE
I peek through the window and find my fear of being the worst father in history pipe down as I see my daughter sitting on the couch watching TV.Her blonde hair is up in a ponytail, and as she laughs, her blue eyes twinkle with an intensity that could light up a city block.
When Alisha told me cooking together could change our relationship, I was skeptical, but seven days later, I have to admit she was right.Samantha opened up the day we started cooking.She answered questions about her life in Los Angeles and told us she disliked high school because she got bullied there.We even laughed and teased each other, and at the end of the day, I found myself looking forward to the next day.A big thanks for this shift goes to Miss Firecracker, whose sparkly personality helped Samantha feel more at home.
Nervousness awakens in my gut as I stroll inside, knowing what sensitive topic I have to address.Standing in the doorway, I study Samantha, who has her feet up on the couch, her hands around her legs, and her head resting on her knees as she watches TV.
"Samantha, can we talk?"My voice comes out softer than intended.
With hesitance in her action, she grabs the remote control and mutes the sound on the television.The silence feels heavy, loaded with all the things we haven't said yet.
"Is something wrong?"Her voice trembles slightly.
"I received a phone call from Los Angeles this morning, and it concerns your mom."The words feel like rocks in my throat.
Her eyes become watery."Your mom's ashes arrived here in Boston."
Her breath hitches, and her pupils dilate."Why?Who did that?"
I run my fingers along my jaw while answering, trying to keep my voice steady."I've arranged for them to be transferred here.This morning, I got the call.And I..."
A bomb of emotions explodes in my chest as Samantha leans forward and wraps her arms around my neck.I place my hands on her back and return the hug, my heart cracking and healing all at once.This is the first time we have hugged, and it feels like coming home.Her small frame shutters in my arms, and my heart opens as she bursts into tears.
"Thank you, Cole," she whispers between her sobs."I miss her so much."
"That's why I did this.I thought you might want her here.This way you can visit her whenever you feel like it."She nods against my chest.
We stay in this embrace, and as my palms caress her back, my soul connects on a deeper level with hers, because I understand what she's going through.The serious, introverted side of my personality grew stronger after my father's passing.Loss changes you in ways you can never predict.
