The Birthday List(55)

Maybe that word wasn’t so scary, after all.

“Yes. Like a date.”




“You look,” Cole swallowed, “stunning.”

“Thanks.” I smoothed down the skirt of my forest-green dress. It had a simple design but was fitted down the bodice to my hips and knees. I hadn’t worn this dress in years, but it still fit perfectly and gave me the illusion of curves and cleavage.

I looked up from my patent nude heels, letting my eyes linger on Cole. “Not so bad yourself, Detective.”

He was wearing a white button-down shirt tucked into some charcoal slacks. The leather belt cinched at his narrow waist accentuated his broad shoulders. And his legs looked long—really long—and his thighs thicker than they did in jeans.

I was shamelessly staring at his bulging quads when he cleared his throat. “Ready to go?”

I nodded, hoping that the heat in my cheeks wasn’t too red, and stepped down off the porch. “This is kind of weird, having you here again.” Tonight was the first time Cole had ever picked me up from home instead of the restaurant.

“Yeah.” He held out his hand but didn’t say anything else about that night.

When I slipped my hand in his, the nerves in my stomach settled the instant we touched.

An hour later, we were squished together in a wooden pew at the church. At the altar, my friend was saying her vows to a man who looked at her like she was the only person in the sanctuary.

I’d been fighting the burn and swelling in my throat since the moment she walked down the aisle. The moment she said I do, I lost the fight and tears flooded my eyes.

I’d never cried at a wedding before. Never. Not even my own.

Maybe it was because this was the first wedding I’d been to since Jamie had died. Maybe it was because the traditional vows that they’d exchanged were exactly the same ones I’d said to Jamie. Maybe I was just becoming more sentimental. Whatever the reason, I was about to lose it completely.

Breathe. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. But no matter how many times I told myself not to cry, I did it anyway. A steady stream of tears poured over my lower lids and I swiped furiously so they wouldn’t smudge my makeup. I sniffled as I wiped my hands on my dress, drying them so I could go back to my face. Just as I lifted them up for the second time, Cole took one between his own.

I looked up through blurry eyes as he placed a handkerchief into my hand.

“Mom always cries at weddings,” he whispered with a smile.

Cole didn’t say don’t cry. He didn’t care if I lost it now and then. He just gave me some extra steel for my spine in the form of a plain white hankie.

I hiccupped a laugh, taking the cloth from his hands to blot my eyes dry. Then, leaning into Cole’s side, I clutched the handkerchief and used it to keep my mascara from running as the ceremony concluded and the guests stood to clap for the newly married couple.

“She looks beautiful,” I said as my friend and her husband walked by our row.

Cole’s hand came to the small of my back as he inched closer. “So do you.”

I was a wreck. I didn’t need a mirror to know that my fair skin was splotchy from crying and my eyes were as red as my hair. But my heart still swelled with Cole’s compliment and I smiled at him over my shoulder. “Thank you.”

He lifted his hand, using his thumb to wipe a smudge on my cheek. “Want to hear a secret?”

I nodded.

He leaned down farther, pressing his warm chest against my back. His minty, cool breath feathered against my cheek as he whispered, “The guy in front of you has his fly undone.”

I blurted a laugh, though it came out more like a snort, and I turned, trying to nonchalantly check out my neighbor’s fly. Sure enough, it was undone. The blue tails of his tucked-in shirt were peeking out of his pants.

I looked back over my shoulder to a grinning Cole. With one silly joke, he’d made everything better. Jamie had always done that for me—given me brevity. Except where Jamie had always thought jokes were appropriate, Cole saved them for when the time was right.

As we slowly shuffled into the receiving line, the differences between Cole and Jamie filtered through my mind. I’d been dutifully trying not to compare the two, mostly because there wasn’t any point—this wasn’t a competition—but also because it sparked doubts about the relationship I’d had with Jamie.

He’d always been so relaxed, cavalier at times, which had driven me crazy. I’d been wondering lately how our relationship would have changed if we’d been given time. Would his constant jokes have gotten old? Would he have let go of some of his big-kid tendencies and matured? I’d always been the grown-up in our relationship. Would I have gotten sick of always having to be the adult?

No. We would have been fine. Thinking anything else just made me sad. And with laughing, happy people all around me, I didn’t want to be sad. So I brushed off those thoughts and joined Cole as he visited with the other guests while we waited to congratulate the bride and groom.

Two hours later, we’d tossed the rice, we’d listened to toasts and we’d eaten our cake.

And now, it was time for dancing.

“What do you say, pretty Poppy?” Cole’s hand skimmed my lower back as we stood by the bar. “Want to dance?”

“Sure.” Then I let the soft pressure from his fingertips guide me to the dance floor.