Page 126 of Muddy Messy Love

I wish Beth were with me on this, but I get it too. If I had the side of Sheila Beth gets, or even her resilience, I mightn’t be done either. I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. “Did she tell you about him? My sperm donor?”

“Not much. Only that she waitressed at a café he frequented near Parliament House, and he wooed her. Honestly, I’m not all that interested in someone who isn’t interested in you. Nor someone who sleeps with married women behind their husbands’ backs. Stuff him.”

I huff a laugh. “You never even Googled him?”

“Nope. That’s for you to do if or when you feel the need.”

My heart launches into a sprint. Googling Thomas Nilsen myself isn’t something I’ve considered doing until now.

“Do you need me to come home, Aves?” Beth asks. “Say the word and I will.”

I shake my head. “Please don’t. I’ll be fine. Truly.” It’s a shaky promise, but I want to hold Beth’s highest good in my heart too, and that starts by not jeopardising her beloved career.

A knock sounds at the front door. “Uh, Beth, I gotta go.”

“Righto, then.” She sounds hesitant. “Are we…okay?”

“We’re fine.” Her stealth exhale triggers a flash of guilt. “I love your guts, sis.”

“Love yours more,” she singsongs. “Check in later, okay?”

“Will do.” I end the call and sit up in bed, hoping whoever’s at the door will bugger off. Unfortunately, the knock sounds again, but so does the door handle.

“Hello? Aves, are you home?” Cole’s voice floats up the stairs and wraps a soft bandage around my heart in a pretty bow.

“Up here,” I call out, my voice suddenly Marge Simpson hoarse. Shit, I probably look rubbish too, but I barely have the energy to care.Suck on that, Sheila.

Cole bounds up the steps, making them dong like a bell. “Hannah said you’re sick.” He reaches the landing, looking fifty shades of fine in yet another slimline suit. “Are you okay? Why didn’t you call me?”

Ah, because I was a catatonic zombie after being told I killed my dad, who actually isn’t my dad?

That concise summary doesn’t transfer to voice. Instead, I’m struck mute, staring. Where do I start? I’m tempted to downplay the whole debacle now that Beth and I are cool, but Cole’s crinkled forehead and worried X-ray eyes dig for truth and fast dismantle my walls. He softens his expression then, as if he feels my pain, and his mere acknowledgement triggers another tidal wave of tears. So I do what any self-respecting girlfriend would. I bury my face in a pillow and hide as sobs wrack my body.

The mattress dips as Cole climbs on to spoon me. “Tell me what’s happened, Angel.” I shake my head, choking on snot. Delightful. “Take your time,” he says, kneading my shoulder and pressing his thumb into the painful knots.

Fuck. Apparently, tears never run out. I could have filled an ice cube tray by now. But when they finally do ease, I recount the whole sorry tale, thankful I don’t need to look Cole in the eye. I might see pity or judgement. Or worse yet, annoyance. Hell knows, if I were him, I’d be sick of the incessant teen drama and my gross deviation from normal by now. I’mnothim, and I’m sick of it. But this is endlessly tolerant Cole we’re talking about, and as I delve through the details, he doesn’t interrupt. The ever-increasing tension in his muscles the only clue to his thoughts.

He stays silent a beat after I finish but then clears his throat. “Wow. That’s a lot.”

I nod into my pillow. “If I could turn back time, I’d just loan her the stinking money if it meant I’d never have to know.”

Cole hugs me harder. “Shhh,” he whispers. “Calm down. I’ve got you.” And it’s then I realise I’m hyperventilating. But theweight of Cole’s body grounds me, and those words soothe my soul.

He waits until my breaths slow before speaking again. “You were right to say no to Sheila—and to sever that toxic relationship. I know she’s your mum, but I’ve seen how she treats you, and it’s far from okay.” He draws small circles on the back of my neck, and I sigh. “As for this dad revelation, I’m sorry you’re hurting. I’m sorry they lied, and I’m sorry the news was delivered the way it was. You deserved better. So much better, Angel.” The empathy in Cole’s voice is so potent and raw I regret saddling him with my pain.

I roll to face him. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?” he asks, his eyes clearly sheened.

“Stop the war that rages inside me with a few meaningful words?”

Cole searches my face and tentatively caresses my cheek. “My heart just seems to know what yours needs to hear, I think.”

God, this man.

He brushes fingers through my hair, but they fast get tangled in knots, forcing him to implement a careful extraction op. I wince but also seize the opportunity to lighten him up. Cole seems as wrecked as I am about this whole ordeal, which is beautiful but also bad for him. “I gotta look worse than my mugshot right now, huh?”

“Bollocks,” he says. “Trust me when I say that worse than your mugshot doesn’t actually exist.” He delivers the dig dryly but cracks a smile that grows as I swat his arm and laugh.

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