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Cole laced his fingers through mine, rolling his thumb over the deserted spot where my wedding band should’ve been.
“‘You and I are the only ones who exist until tomorrow,’” I reminded him.
More than an hour later, we ended up at the heliport at Pier 6 along the East River, a short distance from our starting point at Cole’s place. “Was keeping me on my toesthatimportant?” I asked.
“Yes. Plus we had some time to kill before the pilot arrived. Let’s go.”
The island of Manhattan was majestic from that high up, but we spent most of the ride staring at each other. We landed on the helipad of a palatial estate, a good distance from the city, close to noon.
Lit fireplaces were the focal point of every room. Their stone craftsmanship rode the walls they were built against, tapping the ceilings. The estate manager provided a full tour, and then we were shown to our room where tuxedos hung in unzipped garment bags, and robes and other essentials were neatly draped over the velvet-lined brass bench at the foot of the king bed.
My heart rattled when I spotted the cold weather equestrian gear.
“Do you still ride?” Cole asked, sneaking in behind me as I lifted up a pair of riding breeches. His breath at my neck sent my toes curling in my boots, and I gripped one of the bed’s four posters to keep my balance.
“Not since leaving home,” I said.
“There are stables on the other side of the property. I made sure to instruct them to leave the tacking to us. I knew you’d want to make your own selection and do a little bonding first.”
“Really?” I loved riding, but I never allowed myself to do it here. Leaving the city always felt like such a task, and riding reminded me too much of home. Too much of my mother shouting embarrassingly from the bleachers every time I cleared a hurdle in competition.
“Really,” Cole said. “And I’ll even let you beat me in a race.”
“Let me?”I said doubtfully. Cole had been riding for years before I came along, but by the time I hit my teens you’d never know it.
“You’ve been out of the saddle for a while now. Don’t get too cocky.”
It never occurred to me he’d still be riding. I wasn’t the only one Mom lost her mind and her voice for yelling in the stands. But he’d worked through what still triggered me. “How’s Warrior?”
“She’s fine. In serious need of a name change, but she’s fine.”
“Warrior’s the perfect name for a horse. Better than Lightning.”
“Hey, she’s got a stripe of white in her mane. Lightning makes perfect sense. My horse was destined to have that name,” Cole said with a finger pointed.
“Is she getting enough exercise?”
“Someone rides her a few days a week.”
“Someone?” I asked, because Warrior didn’t like just anyone riding her.
“It was me until I left,” he admitted. Warrior hated him, and he’d taken care of her anyway. I didn’t need another reason to love him, but the universe seemed intent on giving me one regardless. “Took us a while to reach an understanding. Bribing her with carrots did the trick, and she eventually stopped trying to throw me to my death. She never gave up the eye-of-scorn, though. It was like she knew you weren’t there because of me.”
“Do they know—”
“That she likes to be brushed before and after every ride, but only for a short while after a ride, because she prefers to mostly be rubbed until she settles down? Yes, they know.” He bit my thumb as it weaved a path across his lips in gratitude.
“The snow’s gone, and it’s unseasonably warmer than it should be today. Mother Nature’s holding her breath so we can have this moment. Let’s go before we lose it,” he said, stroking his knuckles over my cheek.
The estate sat on over thirty acres of land, and we rode for hours, laughing through our exertion, losing track of time, and our problems, too. My borrowed horse was named Sable—after the color of her coat. She could’ve been a direct relative of Warrior.
“You can come visit her anytime,” Cole said, as I brushed and talked to her after our ride. He leaned against the stable door watching me, his own horse already tended to. I liked to linger.
“Only if you come with me,” I said, chuckling at his pleased expression. I felt different there, with him. Changed somehow, but not yet clear on in what way. He’d returned a piece of me, though. A piece I’d been terrified to reclaim.
“Hungry?” he asked, twilight spreading over the property behind him.
“Famished,” I admitted.
