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“Your sugar smuggling operation is safe with me.”
The receptionist recognizes Cole and waves us past, and we wind our way through the maze of hallways to his father’s private suite. When we arrive at his dad’s room, Cole crouches down in the doorway, pretending to sneak into the room. He holds his finger in front of his mouth like the scout at the front of an army platoon raiding the enemy camp. I follow, standing, like a regular person.
“I’ve got the goods.” He cups a hand over his mouth and stage whispers to his Dad, pulling the bag of gummy worms from his coat. His dad’s face breaks into a smile as Cole bends down onto the bed to give him a hug.
“When your mother sees these,” his Dad says, tucking them under his pillow, “I’m going to tell her exactly who brought them.”
“She’ll forgive me, as long as you share.” Cole makes himself comfortable on the side of the bed. “How are you feeling today? Almost ready to come home?”
“Hang on, let me say hi to this stranger,” his Dad says. Cole leans to the side so I can hug Mr. Reynolds. “Long time no see, Jordan. You should’ve seen this guy moping around without you.”
“Oh, stop, Dad, you’re embarrassing me.” Cole is all humor now, pulling out his faux southern accent and fanning himself like a debutante.
“How are you doing, Mr. Reynolds?” I take the seat next to the bed. It smells like Mrs. Reynolds, her perfume, from all the hours she’s spent sitting on it.
“Feeling like a spring chicken. If only I could get the doctors to agree, I’d be out of here last week.” He sits up taller in bed, but can’t disguise the wince of pain as he adjusts.
“Take it easy, Dad,” Cole says, resting his hand on his Dad’s shoulder. “Let me adjust your pillows.” Cole fusses, moving pillows around until Mr. Reynolds waves him off.
“This is fine, it’s fine. I can see the TV, what more do I need?”
“What a nice surprise.” Mrs. Reynolds steps through the doorway holding two steaming travel mugs. “Thank goodness you’re back, Jordan, you’ve saved us from all of his moping about.”
Cole leaps to his feet and sweeps his mom into a hug. “Don’t listen to her, Anders, I barely missed you. Honestly, Mom, it’ll go straight to her head.”
I can’t help but laugh. Cole is so over the top with his parents. “It’s too late for that, I’m afraid. Hello, Mrs. Reynolds. How are you?”
“Oh, we’re holding up just fine, aren’t we, darling?” She sets one of the mugs on the side table next to the bed. “Though I’ve read every magazine twice over. I think it’ll be time for a provisions run tomorrow.”
“I’ll take you,” Cole chimes in, reclaiming his spot next to his father.
“Aren’t you working tomorrow?” I ask, tallying up Cole’s work hours in my head and wondering when he finds time to sleep.
He shrugs it off. “I’ll find the time.”
Mrs. Reynolds and I share a look. “Okay honey. Thank you. But only if you don’t need to work extra crazy hours into the night to make up for it.”
“He’ll do that anyway,” I add. “With you, he’s like a Golden Retriever puppy addicted to fetching the tennis ball.”
“Woof!” Cole barks, and we all burst into laughter. I settle back into the chair, feeling at peace for the first time in days as Mrs. Reynolds sits on the bed next to Cole. With Cole in my life, everything feels so right.
Chapter 23
Tyson
Ipacefromoneend of my apartment to the other, and back again, staring out the window at the crimson gold sunset spraying its rays across the cityscape. ABully, he called me. As I spin Cole’s words around in my mind, looking at it from all angles like an impossible Rubik’s Cube, nowhere can I see how he could have come up with that bullshit accusation. It shows how little he knows about me. He has it all backward.
Despite hitting the gym for three hours following our encounter, I am still keyed up. After my workout, I stood in the hot shower for so long I became numb, until I switched the water to ice cold in the hopes it might shock me with some sort of epiphany. Nothing. I cannot recall a time when I was ever a bully. Let alone in front of Cole. Where did that come from?
Picking up my phone, I check for a message from Jordan and when I don’t find one, I move on to check through my work messages. Quiet. Right now, I don’t even have any issues at work to bury myself in.
Now that I don’t have to stay at Coles, and I can stay in my own place, I’m glad that Rebecca and the property management team did a great job getting the place ready in a hurry. They stocked the fridge with all the essentials. I toss a handful of strawberries, blueberries, kale, and steel-cut oats into the blender, along with a scoop of protein powder, and press the start button, letting the whir of its motor drown out my thoughts. When it’s smooth, I drink it down in three gulps and toss the blender cup into the dishwasher. I’ve never bullied anyone in my life. I’ve put some people in their places, like those asshole board members, but only when they’ve deserved it. I’ve never picked on somebody weaker than me, but I’ve also never backed down from a fair fight, either. No, that’s not me at all.
My restlessness is driving me insane, my frustrated energy making me pace aimlessly around the room like a caged lion. I want to see Jordan, but I know she’s busy with Cole, and despite my feelings about him, I know he’s important to her.
Still in my robe, I take the stairs up to the second floor. The pink and orange colors of the sunset washing through the floor-to-ceiling windows bathe the leather couch and the colorful throw pillows in their warming rays. But still, the place feels cold. Empty.
I wonder what it would be like to have Jordan staying here with me. Would I use the space? Would she want to change it, add her own touches? I imagine her purple and pink blankets flung over the back of the couch or balled up on our bed. None of that even matters. Her presence alone would fill the place with an energy that is absent without her.
