Page 108 of The Single Dad

I let out a breath, relieved, and slump against Cole as we watch my mother stalk down the path, her impractical heels clicking on the asphalt. I start to laugh weakly, but the laughter quickly begins to turn into tears.

Cole pulls me into his arms, and I bury my face against his chest, crying. He consoles me, rubbing my upper back.

“Let it out,” he says quietly. “It’s better this way.”

“I know,” I say, sniffing as I straighten to wipe tears from my eyes. “It’s a relief to have done it, and I hope it works. I hope that’s the end of this mess. But…”

“It’s still hard.”

“Yeah.” I nod, turning to look at my mother’s receding back. In the distance, she walks past a group of bikers, only distinguishable by her red coat. “I know it’s best with her gone, but I feel like I’m in mourning, even if she’s still alive.”

I glance up at Cole. He nods, his jaw tight and his gaze fixed in the distance. “I get that,” he says. “And I know how difficult that can be.”

For a moment, the two of us stand in silence on the path. He holds me, and I cry quietly, trying to purge the emotions that the confrontation has stirred up.

As the group of bikers reaches us, I take a deep breath and step away from him.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

I nod, though I’m not quite sure.

“Listen—Kerry is still with Archie,” Cole says. “I didn’t know how long this would take, so I told her it might be a few hours. Let me take you to dinner.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I say, rubbing at my puffy eyes. I’m certain they’re bloodshot. I must be quite the sight.

“I want to, angel,” he murmurs. “Let me do this for you. We’ll have a nice evening, just the two of us.”

I give him a grateful smile. “Okay. Sure.”

Chapter 33

Riley

We climb back into the car, and Cole peels out of the parking lot, leaving the park—and my mother, wherever she is—behind. He drives into the heart of the city, and neither of us says much as we go. I take the drive to try to compose myself so that my face isn’t red from crying once we arrive at the restaurant.

To my surprise, he pulls up outside of an awning with a valet booth. He gets out of the car and hands the keys to a young man in a crimson suit, who takes it away.

“Cole,” I say to him as we stand on the curb, watching the car. “Are you sure you—”

“Yes.”

He answers before I even finish asking the question, and it makes me smile despite my tumultuous emotions. He lays a gentle hand on my upper arm and gestures to the front doors, which are gilded and have large glass panes. This place seems considerably more upscale than anywhere I would have taken myself to dinner—or even than the restaurant where I used to work.

Once inside, he approaches the host, who is as smartly dressed as the valet. He leans in to speak to him quietly, and the host gives a sharp nod and says, “Absolutely, sir.”

Cole returns to me as the host bustles off.

Less than a minute later, he returns with a smile. “Your table is ready, sir. Right this way.”

Cole and I follow him through the restaurant. There’s beautiful artwork on the walls, and I pause a few times to get a better look at one of the paintings. The golden frames are draped with velvet, a similar deep red to the host’s suit.

The host leads us past the dining room, to a table in an alcove, secluded from the other patrons.

“A private table?” I whisper to Cole as we sit down. He doesn’t respond, just smirks. I can’t shake the feeling that he’s doing too much for a casual dinner.

To me, this feels undeniably like a date. But I don’t dare say that out loud. I don’t want to call any attention to that fact, in case Cole gets cold feet.

After everything that just happened, you deserve something nice, I tell myself. That’s why he’s doing it. Don’t read into it.

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