I know Cole has been so stressed these last few days, and I just want to be a bright positive light for him tonight. I’m wearing a flouncy red wrap dress and paid extra attention to my makeup—nothing heavy or fancy, but everything just so.

Like every time, I have butterflies knowing I’m going to see him. Still, it’s different than when I first started seeing him again when he came back to town, and it’s not just because of Lucy.

Since he took me to his place in the city, there has been an uncomfortable undercurrent of tension between us that neither of us is acknowledging. It’s real, though. I don’t know how serious he is about my moving in with him but I’ve been trying to imagine myself living in that big apartment in the sky. It was incredible, his place. Like something out of a magazine. I can’t believe I even know someone who lives like that.

But when I picture myself there, and Lucy too, it just feels like a fantasy. Like the night I spent there with him. It was great while I was there, something different and luxurious, but at the end of the day, I live here. Not because I have to but because I want to. It’s as simple as this—Morningside Valley is my home.

But I’m worried. I’m worried because things are getting harder between us, more complex, and it’s only worsened with the death of his father.

I’m hoping Cole feels a sense of relief after seeing the lawyer. Closure.

When I see him walk through the revolving door, I know that’s not the case. His face looks drawn and tense.

I stand up to greet him.

“Hey, you okay?” I ask. He gives me a quick peck on the cheek before sinking into the deep leather chair.

“Excuse me,” he says, snapping at a passing waitress. “Whiskey neat.”

I cringe at how curt he is, and shoot the waitress an apologetic smile.

“What happened?” I ask him.

The waitress quickly brings his drink, and he gulps it down and asks for another.

“That bastard,” Cole says, “left everything to Uncle Dan.”

“What?” I ask, stunned. “Why?”

“Been trying to figure that out,” Cole says. He shakes his head slowly. “Left it all to Dan and not one thing for me. Not even a note or a kind word or anything. Nothing. After all I did for him, especially back in the day.”

I think back to the hospital, and how upset Charlie was about the kind of father he’d been to Cole.

“He did love you, though,” I say. “In his own way, but I’m sure of it. He said—”

“No, this is just confirmation that he never felt I was good enough. Didn’t matter what I did, he always had a way of looking down on me. He dies and gets the last word, telling me what a waste he thinks I really am.”

“I don’t believe that,” I say.

“You don’t know, though, do you?” Cole says. The waitress brings his second drink and he quickly slams it down as well. “He never cared about anyone but himself. Everything I gave up, all the hard work I had to do while he sucked down cases of beer. For what? What was the point of working so hard as a kid?”

I know I have to tread lightly since he’s so upset, but still…I think he’s off-base.

“But did you even want the farm?” I ask. “I mean, it seems like you really didn’t like it and would be annoyed to have to deal with all of the upkeep.”

“That’s not the point, Jessa,” he says. “Yeah, I would have sold it or something, but to be left out completely? What parent does that to their child?”

“What’s Dan going to do with it?”

“Hell if I know. Probably set it all to fire. That’s what I’d do.”

“It’s really a beautiful piece of land,” I say, thinking about the big open fields and charming, if rundown, main house. “The house needs a little work but I think it’s so gorgeous and peaceful out there.”

I’d always thought that Cole was lucky to have such a beautiful little piece of heaven out there. When we first met, we once took a long walk along the edge of the fields, and I remember the wind fluttering in my hair and thinking that I could walk that line forever.

“A little work? The house needs to be gutted. And guess who Dan will be coming to ask for a loan to get it in shape?” Cole says. “Who else in this town has the money to fix a dump like that?”

He’s being really annoying. I hate it when he takes shots at our town. It’s getting old.

But now is not the time to get into it. He’s been through the wringer and is in definite need of cheering up. A change of subject, for sure.

“Tell me something good,” I say. “What’s happening with the documentary? Did you guys get everything filmed here that you needed?”

“Actually, yeah,” he says. He shifts in his chair, turning to finally really looks at me, his eyes suddenly brightening. “We got all the footage and Melissa and Silvio and are back in the city putting it together. I wanted to be there for the final editing but then all this came up.”

He says it like it’s merely an annoyance—his father’s death. I cringe.

“But they said it looks really slick and is sure to be a great PR piece. They should be done in a couple of days.”

“Can I see it?” I ask.

“Yes, of course,” he says. “A small crew of us are getting together here at the hotel in a couple of days to preview it before it’s officially released. I can’t wait to hear what you think about it. I’m really proud of the footage I’ve seen so far.”

“That’s great, Cole,” I say, smiling. We hold each other’s gaze for a moment, and I can see that his mood has lifted. I take the opportunity to make a move. I get up and stand before him, nudging his knees open. “Can I sit?” He adjusts himself and I sink down on his lap, resting my head on his shoulder. He rubs my arm gently.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says.

I close my eyes, taking in his words. I want to always be a source of comfort for him. I know he has a lot of feelings to process with his dad, but I hope he can work through them somehow.

“Try not to overthink the thing with your dad,” I say.

He stiffens. “I’m not overthinking anything, Jessa. But don’t expect me to be a happy camper when my old man dies and leaves me holding the bag.”

“Of course not. That’s not even what I—“

“I better just get upstairs,” Cole says, suddenly. “I have some fabric samples and rough designs to go through. We’re manufacturing some high-performance snowboarding pants that are being considered for the Olympic team.” He sighs deeply. “Lots to do. Give me a couple of days and I’ll text you.”

“Yeah, sure. I understand.” I start to get up from his lap. My heart is so heavy. I know he’s going through so much emotional turmoil but this feels like a rejection. I want to stay in his arms, kiss him, show him how much I care for him.

As we stand he pulls me back into him. “I’ll miss you.” He says the words, but I don’t feel them. There’s some sort of disconnect, even as he holds me.

“I’ll miss you too,” I say. He kisses my lips; I pull him back when he starts to move away. I hold him there, taking him in and not caring who is looking. His arms wrap around my waist, pressing me into him. I’m hoping he’ll take me upstairs with him, but he says goodbye, and I go home alone.

I wait anxiously for him to call over the next couple of days. I can’t wait to see him again and I can’t wait to see this documentary he’s been working on. I’ve been a little more than curious about it since I first saw him filming it outside the clinic.

Mostly I feel a heavy dose of anxiety thanks to the weirdness of our last time together. Our last couple of times together.

“Girl, you’re overthinking it,” Chrissy says, as I hang by the receptionist desk during a rare lull at work. “He’s going through a lot lately. He’s not himself.”

“You say that like you know him,” I say.

“I know men better than you think,” she says.

Chrissy often keeps her mutt, named Dandy, by her feet at work. I give him a treat, and he licks my hand. I pet his head, and it makes me feel a little better.

“He’s just been so cold and distant lately…” I sigh.

“Wouldn’t you be if your dad had just died?”

“No,” I say. “I’d be devastated. I can’t tell if he’s deep down upset about his dad or truly glad he’s gone.”

“Oh, sugar, he’s not glad his daddy is dead, I can tell you that much,” Chrissy says knowingly. “He’ll come back around. They always do.”

“Not necessarily,” I say.

“Now that he knows about that beautiful baby girl of y’alls, he’s not going anywhere.”

“Chrissy, he doesn’t live here. He hates it here. He can’t wait to get out of here—again.” I stroke Dandy’s soft head.

“Well…” And that’s all she can say because she knows I’m right.

I get even less comfort from my family, who come over for dinner that night. Great timing.

Everyone is darting their eyes at me, not saying what they desperately want to ask—what’s up with you and Cole?

They know he’s not planning on staying here, and everyone has been fairly good about not asking when he’s leaving, and what happens next. But I can tell that the unspoken agreement not to ask me any questions about the future is soon coming to an end. We’re passing bowls of green beans and platters of fried fish like life hasn’t hit a big bump in the road named Cole Frost.

Of course, leave it to a three-year-old to blow the lid off the tension and just ask what everyone else is thinking.

“Momma, when are we going to see Cole again?” Lucy asks, awkwardly spearing a green bean. She gives up, and picks it up with her fingers.

The whole table pauses. Lucy loves being around Cole, and misses him when she doesn’t see him for a day or two. They’ve become close, and she knows he’s her dad, but she hasn’t yet figured out that she can call him Dad. I wanted to let it come naturally, but now I don’t know what we’re doing.

“Probably in a couple of days,” I say.

“You will?” Avery asks, as if I’m telling a lie.

“Yeah,” I say, a bit defensively. “He’s working. You know, that billion-dollar company he runs?”

“Oh, please,” Avery mutters.

“And he’s finishing up the documentary he’s making for his company,” I add. “When it’s done I’m going to see it at a private screening.”

“Are you sure it’s a documentary and not a farce?” Avery says.

“Why do you have to be so negative?”

“Because it’s not right,” Avery says.

“Girls,” Daddy says, a warning tone in his voice. He gives a subtle nod toward Lucy, who is watching me and her aunt with interest.

“Farce,” she says.

“Exactly,” Avery says.

“We just want the best for both of you,” Mom adds. “And we don’t want to see you hurt. Again.”

“I know,” I say. “But it’s not like that this time.”

I’m saying the words and hoping they’re true. Right at this moment, though, I don’t know. Cole is so unreachable, and I don’t mean because I haven’t heard from him.

That’s not entirely true. I sent him a text yesterday that said, “Working hard?” All he wrote back was, “Yup.”

I guess that’s what I get for asking a yes or no question.

But finally he does reach out to me. Later, as we’re clearing dishes, my cell rings and his number appears on the caller ID. My heart starts racing and I feel a shock of excitement and happiness that he’s actually calling me.

Thank God.

“Who is it?” nosey Avery asks, but I shoo her away.

I try not to sound too anxious when I answer.

“Hey, you,” I say. “What’s up?”

“It’s finished,” he says. “The documentary. God, we’ve been up for three days straight getting it just right and now it’s finally done.”

“I’m so glad. So you’re happy with it?”

“Definitely. It’s incredible and is really going to show off the brand in a way we haven’t done before. We’re having a few staff and personnel to the hotel tomorrow night for the screening. Will you be there?”

“If you want me there,” I say. I know it’s a bit coy, but I can’t tell if he wants to see me or if he’s just excited about finishing the project. Once he’s done with it, will he leave town for good?

“Everyone’s going to be there,” he says. Not exactly the answer I was looking for.

“Well, if everyone’s going to be there…” I say in a teasing tone to cover my hurt.

“Please be there,” he says. “I want to know what you think of it. It’s important to me.”

I feel myself smiling ear to ear now.

“Of course I’ll be there,” I say.

“Then it’s a date.”