Yes, Race was nice, a gentleman. Do youwant to talk about it?
No, not really.
Kate, please.
I know I told you I’d tell you what’sgoing on, but I think it’s better for me to be alone right now.
Okay, but I’m not letting this go.
I know. One thing?
Yes, what?
Did everyone go to bed?
Yes.
Thanks.
Goodnight, I love you like a fat kid love’scake.
I love you too.
I turn off the lights and get into bed, butall I do is toss and turn. I don’t know how long I’ve been laying here but Ican’t take it anymore. I kick off the blankets and crawl off the bed. I’m toolazy to find my bathrobe, so I pick my dress off the floor and throw it over myhead. I’m starving. I have a stash of Oreos hidden in the back cupboard and Ialso know there’s half a bottle of wine in the refrigerator. All the lights areoff except for the green elevator light and the light over the kitchen sink. Iglance up the stairs and everything’s quiet, so I make my way toward thekitchen.
When I’m halfway across the living room,I hear an “e-hem,” and I stop. I turn around. Sitting in a chair, is Cole. Hisface is shrouded in darkness. He picks a tumbler up off the end table, taking adrink. Which reminds me why I came out here in the first place. I turn backaround and head into the kitchen. I dig around for the cookies. They’re stillthere, thank goodness. And the wine is right where I knew it would be. I kickthe fridge door shut with a foot, but when I turn around, Cole’s blocking theentrance to the family room. He comes up, taking the wine from me. “I don’tthink so.”
“Give it back.”
“No, you’ve drunk enough tonight. You’llend up in the bathtub again and this time you might drown.”
I suck in a breath. Fine, he can keep thewine. “Shouldn’t you be bunking with Cooper?” I push him aside, stomping pasthim. He doesn’t say anything. As I pass the chair where Cole was sitting, Iglance down at the tumbler. It’s still half full of what I’m sure is whiskey.Without thinking, I pick it up and drink the liquor in one gulp. “Kate,” Colehisses, running over. It burns and I sputter, coughing half of it back up.“Kate, shit.”
“I am so sick and tired of hearingmydamned namesaid with menace, pity and condemnation,” I hiss at him. I dropthe glass on the floor and tramp into the bedroom.
I walk over to my side of the bed,sliding down onto the floor. I should be crying but the tears don’t come. Ihear the door click closed and the soft stomp of Cole as he comes around thebed. He toes off his loafers, takes his suit coat and tie off, then sits downnext to me. We’re quiet for a long while. Finally, Cole leans over, taking myhand and entwining our fingers. He kisses the back of it, rubbing it betweenboth his hands.
I pull my knees up to my chest, wrappingmy free arm around me and resting my chin on my knees. Cole has something tosay, I can tell. It’s just taking him a while to let it out.
“Your hands are cold.”
“I feel cold,” I mutter into my knees.Cole’s strong hands wrap around me, and he pulls me onto his lap. I want tohold on to my anger, but it dissipates. Cole’s here, he’s trying, and truth betold, I’m feeling all fuzzy from the whiskey. I snuggle up, resting my head inthe crook of his neck.
He tenderly rubs up and down my arms.“Cookie,” he whispers in my hair. “I’m sorry for the way I left you thisevening. That was wrong.”
“Why did you do it?” I breathe timidly.
“Your mom. She’s upset.”
“She’s not mad at you.”
I feel Cole laugh. “Oh no? She seemedpretty mad when she was yelling at me.”
“Yeah, I saw you got the finger. It’s notyou she’s mad at. I don’t think she’s mad at anyone really, more hurt.”
“I think you need to explain this to me.”
“I don’t know, maybe I’m wrong, but sheseems to think she’s lost her hold over me. Even though I’m an adult, she’sbeen a big part of my life the last two years living next door. I ate most ofmy meals with the family and if I let Kurt, he’d attach himself to my hip.Well, if any of his friends weren’t available, or he somehow got himselfgrounded. When I lived next door, I saw my mom almost every day. Now I’m faraway, I’m married, I have someone amazing who loves me to take care of me. Idon’t need her, or her opinion anymore. I have my own.”
