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He yawned and disappeared out the door. I refilled my glass, flicking the coaster rebelliously, watching it bounce off the ladder rungs until it splattered onto the floor. I kind of empathized with it.
I resumed the mindless job of counting the lights again, of telling myself it would be okay, again. Of thinking about Cole. Again.
Closing arguments were in and court was adjourned for deliberation. Sofia and I reassured Tyson and his grandmother things couldn’t have gone better. “With any luck, we’ll have a decision soon, but I wouldn’t worry,” I said, placing my hand over her nervous ones.
We sat huddled at the defense table as the courtroom emptied. I checked behind me to confirm Lorenzo and Mrs. Baker were still seated in the gallery, and to see if Daniel ended up making it. I didn’t expect to see Cole sitting there giving me the thumbs-up. I offered him a half-hearted smile before returning my attention to my clients.
“Thank you so much for all you’ve done, Mr. Des Moines. And you too, Mrs. Rivera,” Mrs. Wallace said.
“No need to thank us,” Sofia assured her. “Tyson had every right to attend that school, and by the time we’re done here, you’ll be able to afford to send him anywhere. His siblings, too.”
“Tell the nice people thank you,” Mrs. Wallace said to Tyson who sat shyly next to her.
“Thank you,” he said shyly.
I excused myself, leaving Sofia to answer any remaining questions. I held a finger up to Mrs. Baker and Lorenzo, asking them for one minute as I pushed through the short swinging door and strode for the back of the gallery. “What are you doing here?” I said to Cole, my tone light. “Do I need to file a restraining order?”
He stood, buttoning his blazer and checking the room around us before lowering his voice. “I got all the juicy details on your schedule, remember? And only if that order means I get to restrain you.” He winked playfully. “You were brilliant in there,” he exclaimed.
“Shhh. We’re in court.” I chuckled quietly, relieved by the absence of tension after how we’d left things last night.
“Court’s no longer in session. The judge said so himself,” he said adorably, which was a rare feat for Cole. On the spectrum of adorable and dangerously handsome, the pendulum tended to swing toward danger.
Lorenzo and Mrs. Baker came up from behind, thanking me for the invite and congratulating me on a job well done. We said our goodbyes, and they left as I turned my focus back on Cole.
“God, you were made for this, Jas. You had the jury eating out of the palm of your hands. And I like your hair,” he said randomly. I wore it blown straight and tied back when in court. It helped with being taken seriously. “Tell me I can take you to lunch?”
“Lunch… Um,” I checked my phone. No texts or missed calls from Daniel. I looked to Sofia, who was now walking our way with Tyson and Mrs. Wallace. I said my goodbyes to them, and then it was just the three of us.
“Did I hear lunch?” Sofia blurted before side-hugging Cole. “Please tell me I heard the word lunch. And yes, I will be third-wheeling it. My stomach is eating my spine at this point.”
As far as Sofia knew, Cole and I were merely estranged stepbrothers. I still hadn’t gotten around to spelling everything out to her and begging for her forgiveness.
“You heard right,” Cole said. “My treat.”
“I don’t understand why this idiot’s been hiding you,” she deadpanned. Cole barked a laugh and held open the door for her.
We ended up at the deli across the street because Sofia was short on time. She used her sharp, courtroom skills to get all the familial details from Cole. How old we were when our parents married. How long it took for him to warm up to me. How I was as a child, and then as a teen. What kind of son I was, what kind of father was Franklin…I sat playing with my food as Cole maintained his cool under her pressure. He’d provided the truth, equipped with enough endearment and personal information to satisfy my best friend’s appetite, without goingthere.
“Why didn’t your dad ever adopt him?” she asked Cole. “And why didn’t your mom adopt him?” she asked me next. “Seems like the logical thing to do. You’d technically still be brothers if they had.”
“The subject came up once, but Cole wasn’t ready,” I said, without going into details about the tantrum Cole had thrown when he thought Franklin and my mom wanted to totally erase his birth mother. I also didn’t mention the second time the topic came up. We were teens and lovers by then, and neither one of us were excited about adding another hurdle in our way. We’d told them we didn’t need a piece of paper to know they were our parents, but that we’d let them know if that ever changed. They didn’t push back.
“Well, one thing’s for sure. In all the years I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him as content as when you’re around. I love seeing him happy,” she said, her eyes misting.
“’Fia,” I whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You’re such a marshmallow.” That was our inside joke. She was tough as nails, but sentimental as heck and could cry at the drop of a hat.
“Now tell me more,” she said, and Cole launched into the story about his study buddy Dylan and his cracked bedroom window. He weaved it so I came off as the sweet younger brother who didn’t want to share his sibling, which I had even believed at the time.
I wasn’t sure how that segued into him speaking about my mother and what she’d meant to him, but Sofia had a way of disarming whomever she came in contact with. For a moment, I forgot about her existence, reaching over to sink my fingers into his hair and bring our foreheads together. All I could think about was consoling him, of making his sadness go away. We both seemed to remember her presence at the same time. We separated, clearing our throats.
We went through the motions of finishing our food, but I couldn’t taste a thing. All my energy went into resisting the urge to look over at Sofia, whose stare hadn’t moved from the right side of my face. Cole’s phone rang as the waiter came by and asked if we needed anything else. “Just the check,” he said, answering the call and excusing himself from the table.
“Well,” she started, staring at me pointedly, “I think we’re long overdue for a pal’s night, wouldn’t you say? Let’s make that happen real soon.”
“Yeah,” I sighed.
“Okay. I’m going to be late for my meeting if I don’t get out of here now.” She shrugged into her ankle-length puffer coat, wrapping her scarf around her neck, and tugging on her gloves.
