Chapter 8: Hang up

Cole Magon

It killed me to let Bethany go this morning. It also felt great waking up to her body sprawled all over me. Her hand in my mouth, leg flipped over mine and those sexy moans she makes in her sleep. It was 5:30 a.m. and an angel was in my bed. I was hard as hell.

I woke her up with my head between her legs, and one of them propped over my shoulder. Her moan of “Cole” was my undoing, and I entered her and brought us both home again. Another shower was needed, but she had her clothes for work to save time. We stopped by the Beans & Things and ate breakfast.

Before she got out of my car to enter her job, she kissed me on the lips and said, “Next time, we need to go grocery shopping, so I can cook us breakfast and we can spend more time getting ready.”

Her perfectly arched eyebrows went up in a comical wiggle and I burst out laughing before lunging for her. She was quicker than me and had already escaped my vehicle.

Damn, it hurt to let her go.

The next two months went by in a blur as we settled into a routine of doing something every Friday whether that was dinner, movies, museum, art exhibit or Bethany cooking us something special. She slept over about three nights a week and every Friday, she stayed for the weekend.

Her daughter for the most part was handling this well, which I knew had bothered Bethany’s initially. She was a good mother but her load was large and she took those responsibilities seriously. Even though she received no credit for them.

One afternoon, Bethany and I met up for coffee but she seemed off.

“Angel, what’s wrong?” I asked when she settled into our booth we claimed at the local restaurant near her job.

“It’s a weird day,” she replied. “I don’t know. How was your day? Is the event coming along?”

Ignoring the change in subject I answered her, “It’s coming, but we had a donor back out. So that sucks. It was a significant partnership, which may impact the event but it will work out. I’ve no doubts.”

Pass & Through, a large grocery chain, backed out of providing lunches for the summer school campers at the last minute. That irked my damn nerves but put us on the hunt for another donor entirely too late in the process. Since it was a significant amount of food, which meant a lot of money, the foundation would have to take a loss or charge the campers. Either of those options weren’t really ideal, so I was on the hunt.

“Damn,” Bethany hissed. “Why would they do that?”

“Don’t know, but it’s bad business and I don’t plan to work with them again.”

“Yeah, I’ll make sure I do the same,” she said before taking a sip of ice water.

I met her gaze and smiled. She was seriously a work of perfection. Instant support and solidarity to my mini-boycott.

“I want us to go away for the weekend,” I blurted as if I had turrets.

She burst into giggles at my diarrhea of the mouth and asked, “Okay, what you’d have in mind?”

Just like that.

Okay.

I swear I was falling in love. The woman wasn’t high maintenance even if her daughter was. She was mature, level-headed, sexy, smart and simply perfect for me.

“I have a cabin in Colorado I frequently visit on various holidays. Since Christmas is coming up soon, I wanted to go and hopefully see some snow.” I explained.

Bethany’s face lit up and she clapped and exclaimed, “Ahhh, snow! Yes, when are we going?”

“Whenever you want,” I answered. “I wasn’t sure what your holiday looks like.”

Bethany pulled out her phone and said, “Thus far, I’m free. Oh, wait. We have a holiday party at work on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. Can you come? It’ll just be people from work and their wives or significant others, mostly.” Then those smoky brown eyes looked up, and she bit her lower lip, like she made a mistake. “You don’t have to if you—”

I held up a hand to stop her, “If I’m your significant other. Damn right, I’m going. Do I have to dress up?”

She laughed for a small moment and replied, “No honey. Please do not dress up. I’ll send you the calendar invite for the party. However, going into the New Year, I’m free. Plus, I have plenty of days off.”

Then it was settled. We were going to the holiday party and in December, to Colorado.

***

Prior to meeting Bethany, I rarely took time to groom myself. It was just me, myself and I. Now, I found myself getting haircuts, shaving and even the rare manicure. Well, the manicure was for the holiday party.

Unfortunately, Brittany was in the living room making a fuss because Bethany wouldn’t give her any money to have some people over. It was a full-blown argument with mostly Brittany yelling and crying to the max.

“Brittany, it would be in you, and the baby’s, best interest to calm down.” She nodded to her daughter’s stomach. “I know you’re not showing quite yet, but stress can transmit.”

“I don’t care,” she yelled. “I just want to have some friends over since you’re leaving with Cole, anyway. I’m not bothering anybody. You go to his house, so you’re not bothering me. What’s the difference?”

Bethany took a short breath and answered, “The difference is this is my house. I pay the mortgage on it, all by myself. Therefore, you are living under my roof. You are not spending my money like you have a job. We have a ton of food to cook in here, but you think you can order out every single night.” She leaned forward toward her daughter and hissed, “Well you can’t. Who do you think will take care of your child since you have no job?”

“I’ll get on welfare?” Brittany spat back. “Get my own stuff, my own money and food.”

“In my house?” Bethany raised her voice, then swung a glance at me as if looking for assistance.

“Brittany,” I interjected. “The waiting list for public housing is years long and you won’t be able to stay here and get on welfare in your mom’s house.”

“Then I’ll figure something out. Those halfway houses take battered women,” she snapped back.

I didn’t want to be the one to say it, but Bethany looked ready to combust.

 “You’re not battered.” I nodded toward her.  “You’re only hope would be to get a job, rent a room and apply that way.”

“Fine, then I’ll do that.” She shot a glaring eye to her mother and stomped upstairs after yelling. “Thanks, Cole.”

Bethany’s usually beautiful face was marred with frustration, and a tiny bit of homicidal insanity.

“I love my child. I love my child,” she chanted. “I love my child.”

I laughed and pulled her into my body, “Yes, sweetheart. You do love your child.”

When we finally arrived to the holiday party, we walked in hand-in-hand. Bethany took me around and introduced me to everyone. That was when and I was able to meet the infamous Curtis. On his arm, was a beautiful woman who seemed to adore him.

Thanks to Le One.

We were talking with a couple of partners about a new venture they were considering when Bethany shared about my donor backing out. This piqued their interest, which resulted in me exchanging numbers and expecting calls on Monday.

Pulling Bethany to the side, I whispered, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” she said with a genuine smile. “I hope that was okay?” Her brows came together displaying concern.

“No, it’s fine, but you didn’t have to,” I reiterated.

“Yes, but the money should go to good use and not some crooner of theirs for a tax break.” She shrugged. “Not that yours isn’t a tax break, but it’s at least for a quality cause.”

My eyes remained on her as I thought of how selfless she was. How thoughtful and just what a great listener she was. It was perfect. She was perfect.

I leaned into her for a quick peck on the lips.

“You’re an angel,” I whispered.

The smile that stole over her face melted my beating heart. Damn, I needed to make her mine officially.

That night, on our way back to my place, her phone starts ringing off the hook. There were back-to-back calls. I figured it was Brittany, but when she finally pulled it out, she saw it was her ex-husband, Bryce.

“I’m sorry, Cole,” she whispered before answering the phone. “Yes?”

The man was yelling so loud, I could hear him clearly through the phone’s internal speakers.

“Bethany, what the fuck are you trying to do? Starve our pregnant child while you’re gallivanting your ass around town with your white boyfriend. What in—”

His next words weren’t heard because I snatched the phone out of her hand and lost my own shit.

“This is the white boyfriend, here and I swear to God, if you call Bethany again screaming at her like some unhinged toddler, you and I will have a problem worse than we already have now. Clearly, she’s not starving the child-like adult who happens to be twenty fucking three years of age and has no respect for her mother or the value of a dollar. Bethany has food in her cabinet, on every shelf in her fridge with a full freezer. Had you cared to question why your twenty-three-year-old daughter is calling to complain that someone wasn’t feeding her, maybe you would have caught on to the absurdity of the notion. So, call your daughter, encourage her to get a job and not mooch off her mother, who’s about to be feeding three with no support from the other half of this equation.” I finally took a breath and continued, “Now, please do us both a favor and don’t have me getting on a plane to make my point clear.”

Then I hit the button.

The red one that read END.

Carefully putting her phone back in her bag, I turned into my housing complex and ignored Bethany’s gaping mouth. Once I parked, I asked, “You want to talk here or in the house?”

She closed her mouth, opened the door and climbed out of the car. I followed suit and let us inside the dark house. Moving toward the kitchen, I heard her footsteps follow me and all she said was, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” I replied as I cracked open a beer. “But, Beth, swear to God, if that asshole calls you talking shit like that. I’m fucking catching a plane to New Jersey. Who the fuck does he think he is?”

My voice was elevated because I was pissed as shit. What kind of man does shit like that? He’s like a damn boy.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she repeated, reminding me of what I said earlier at the party.

Then, with two large steps, Bethany moved into me and hugged me. That was it, just a hug. Putting my beer on the counter; I embraced her back. Prior to that day, I wouldn’t have thought a hug was therapeutic. But, the pain, loneliness and even the issues in the world, seemed to fly away with the simple gesture.

We sat there and embraced each other without it turning sexual or naughty. Bethany’s arms were tight around my neck but her breathing was normal. It was safe to assume she was not crying but there was definitely something.

“You alright, Angel?” I murmured in her hair. 

“Umm, hmm,” she nodded but continued to hold on tight.

When she finally pulled away, she looked at me with a huge, yet beautiful smile. That made my whole body warm with anticipation. The expectation she could light up my world with just her mere presence.

“Thank you,” she said with that melodic voice of hers.

“Let’s go to bed,” I said while nabbing her hand. “I’m beat. Today was emotionally exhausting.”

“You can just admit it Cole,” she chuckled. “We’re getting old quick.”

We laughed as we climbed the stairs, brushed our teeth and crawled into bed. Assuming the position with me spooning her. This would be completely disrupted in the morning because Bethany’s foot would probably be in my mouth but I’d take that shit any day of the week.

Hell, every day of the week.

In the middle of the night, my phone rang, jolting me awake. The call was just missed but my blood ran cold when I saw it was Nadia.

My ex-fiancée.

Hell.