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"Scared of what it would be like here without you," he said, his gaze piercing mine. Then, he cleared his throat. "We, uh, got used to having you around, you know? The girls and me. Everyone else in town, too. When you told me that you had that offer from 7-Eleven, it suddenly all felt so real. But I know New York is where you belong. Because, ultimately, Elara, it’s me who’s not part of your dreams. And that’s the way it should be. Your dreams are much bigger and much more beautiful than this dumbass standing in front of you. That’s one of the things I . . . like about you."
"I see." Pain squeezed my heart. He liked the fact that my dreams were big, but he had no idea that those dreams no longer existed. Which meant that he no longer liked me. "Thank you for the apology."
He nodded. "I'm glad we could make things right. I'll always cherish our time together, El. It was a damn good fling."
"Yeah." A lump formed in my throat. If only he knew how badly I wished he'd ask me to stay.
"Don't forget us small-town folks when you're taking the big city by storm," he said, stepping back.
I let out a hollow laugh.
"What?" he asked.
"I don't know," I replied with a shrug. "Just doesn't feel real."
"We'll stay in touch. The girls would love to visit sometime in New York."
"Sure." My voice was cold. I knew that Cole didn’t mean what he was saying. He was just trying to smooth things over to feel like less of an asshole before I left. He still wanted me gone, out of his life.
"Everything all right between us?" he asked.
I couldn't speak past the tightness in my chest. I just nodded.
There was a silence, and then, Cole said, "Well, good luck following your dreams, El."
I wavered, my heart pounding in my chest. I knew I had to say something. I'd never forgive myself if I didn't. "What if . . ." The words burst out of me, my voice shaking, "What if my dream isn't in New York?"
His expression hardened, eyes like flint. "But it is your dream," he insisted. "And you must never, ever give up on it.”
"Can’t dreams change?" I asked, my voice breaking as tears filled my eyes.
“No,” he said firmly. “Trust me on that.”
"But I think mine have,” I say, bracing myself to do the bravest thing I’ve ever done. Braver than making a croquembouche. Braver than the pastry school interview. Braver than selling my dad’s bar. “I think my dream might be to stay here . . . with you.”
Cole’s eyes widened. "Elara . . ." His voice was barely a whisper, and I could see the pain etched into the lines of his face. He shook his head. “No. That’s not right. I’m not good enough for you.”
"I don't want to know if you think I'm too good for you, or too young for you, or from a different world to you. All I want to know is whether you have feelings for me.”
Cole paused, his eyes searching mine. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then, with a tight jaw, he said, "I can't give you what you need, Elara. It was just a fling, okay? Nothing more than that."
I almost choked when he said that. Just a fling. It was what we’d been saying all along and yet, somehow, it felt like the biggest insult I’d ever heard.
I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady myself. "I need to go. I hear New York is very good for flings this time of year."
"Goodbye, Elara," he said with a nod.
"Goodbye, Cole," I replied, my voice barely audible through the tightness in my throat.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Cole, Two Months Later
The trailer was falling apart—just like my life.
I should have repainted it by now. I should have replaced the roof. I should have torn the whole fucking thing down and rebuilt it properly.
But I never would. Just another thing I couldn't seem to get right.
