Page 78 of Broken Hearts

His words, playful yet profound, are so typical of him. Moments like these, where he hints at a life together, stir a mix of excitement and fear in me. The idea of starting a family with him feels both overwhelming and wonderfully captivating.

As we settle back into the car, my thoughts drift to those dreams of a future where Cole and I build a life beyond our intense romance. With his hand in mine, what once felt like a far-off fantasy now seems tantalizingly close.

The drive back to my apartment is quiet, filled with meaningful glances and unspoken promises. Upon arrival, Cole's earnest blue eyes meet mine. His soft, reassuring kiss is a testament to our deep bond — one that has weathered storms, mistakes, passion, and pain. As we part, I feel a renewed sense of resolve to embrace whatever lies ahead with him.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he says as I step out of the car, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer.

I watch him leave, and I’m filled with fear, uncertainty, but also a growing sense of hope. Hope that maybe this unconventional path we’re on could lead to something beautiful.

As I head inside, I’m greeted by the familiar faces of Poppy and Nessa, their expressions filled with curiosity and concern. I know they’re eager to hear about the appointment.

I take a deep breath, ready to share my story—our story. It’s a story that’s still being written, one filled with unexpected twists and turns, but it’s ours. And as I start to speak, I realize that no matter what the future holds, I’m not facing it alone. I have Cole, and I have my friends, my support system.

No matter what, with them, I’ll be okay.

Chapter 28

Cole

Ringing the bell of Eva’s house, I fiddle with the collar of my shirt, tugging at the tightness of my tie, trying to calm the storm of nerves inside me.

“Don’t be nervous,” she says soothingly as soon as she opens the door to let me in.

Damn, she reads me so easily. For others, it's nearly impossible, but for her, it seems like second nature.

I pull at my collar again, and she takes my hand in hers.

“You didn’t have to wear a suit, you know. I know they make you uncomfortable.”

“I want to make a good impression. This is important. I can’t screw this up,” I say, looking down at her.

Her face breaks into a wide smile, and she stands on her toes wrapping her arms around my neck to pull my head down for a kiss.

“You’re perfect, and my father knows you. You have no one to impress.”

I grimace at that. I was not the best role model before meeting my Eva.

The nervousness gnawing at me is a whole different beast than any I’ve ever faced. It’s not like the buzz before a big game or the thrill of closing a massive deal. This is deeper, cutting right to the core of me. Her uncertainty about our relationship, the way she’s teetering on the edge, has me feeling like I’m one wrong move away from losing her for good. Despite the promises I’ve made, the mere thought of ever having to sign those divorce papers… it’s like a heavy weight dragging me down, a feeling I can’t shake off.

She leads me into the living room, our fingers entwined. Her father is there, along with the English teacher who has become a regular presence. I catch the slight narrowing of his eyes at the sight of our joined hands. Yeah, he’s definitely not my biggest fan.

“Coach, thank you for having me over for dinner,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

He grunts in response, but then his expression softens as he looks at her. I know that look—she must be unleashing her best puppy-dog eyes on him. He seems to relent a bit under her gaze. “You’re welcome. I’m glad to meet you in your new role of boyfriend.”

Husband, I want to correct, but I bite my tongue, choosing silence over stirring the pot.

We move into the dining room, where the aroma of cooked food fills the air. It smells incredible. I pull out a chair for Eva, a small but significant gesture. We’re playing the part of a couple, but beneath the surface, there’s an undercurrent of tension. It’s like we’re both walking a tightrope, balancing between what’s said and unsaid, the known and the unknown.

Dinner progresses with casual conversation, mostly led by Mrs. Harper, who thankfully seems adept at lightening the mood. Coach mostly observes, his eyes occasionally flicking to Eva and me, analyzing, assessing. I do my best to engage, to be part of the conversation, but my focus keeps drifting back to her. Her laughter, the way she interacts with her father, the subtle looks she gives me—it’s all a reminder of what’s at stake.

As soon as the meal finishes, I stand up, eager to help her with the clearing. “Let me give you a hand with that,” I offer, looking toward her.

Her father starts to speak, perhaps to protest, but Mrs. Harper places a gentle hand on his arm. “Yes, of course,” she says, giving us a warm smile. It’s a small gesture, but it speaks volumes about her acceptance and support.

Following her into the kitchen, I give her a quick kiss. I need this—a moment of connection amid the polite tension of dinner. “You okay?” I ask her, searching her eyes for any sign of discomfort.

She nods, a soft smile gracing her lips. “Yes. Thank you for being so… perfect tonight.”

---