Page 84 of Enemies, Lovers & A Valentine's Baby

Part of me hopes he won’t. It would save me from the stress of trying to avoid him all night. But another part of me, the foolish, hopeful part, aches to see him, even if it’s just to confirm what I already suspect: that we’re truly done.

A final glance at my reflection in the mirror, and I’m finally ready. Picking my clutch up from my nightstand, I make my way out of my apartment.

***

Cole

I sit at the bar, nursing my third glass of the night. The signature cocktail tastes like her—bright, unexpected, and just sweet enough to be dangerous.

Maybe I hit the bar too quickly when I arrived, but it’s the only place that makes sense to me right now. Lately, the only time I’ve been able to quiet the noise in my head or numb the aching pain in my chest every time I think about her is at the bottom of a glass.

I know it’s not the healthiest way to cope with my problems, but it’s certainly better than having to face them. I’m not ready. I’m not sure that I’ll ever be. It’s been over a week since I walked out of her house, and yet I am no closer to figuring out whatcomes next. My head is a mess. My chest? Worse. I can’t get the image of her crying on the floor out of my head. That look she gave me as I walked away. The sadness in her eyes. The disappointment.

Who is she to be disappointed! She was the one who lied to me. She told me she couldn’t get pregnant, and a few weeks later she just miraculously turns out to be pregnant?

I’d be a fool to fall for any of it. I just don’t understand why she would do it. I’d started to hope again, to convince myself that I’d been wrong to judge the entire female population just off the actions of one woman.

I thought finally, here’s my second chance at trust. At…love.

I swirl the liquid in my glass, watching the light catch on the edge of the rim. A bitter laugh escapes me. How naïve I was, thinking I could let my guard down, thinking that this time would be different.

You’d think I would have learned my lesson by now.

Still, I can’t deny what she’s done here tonight. The room is stunning—perfect, really. A reflection of her. Lila’s touch is everywhere, in the shimmering silver drapes, in the glow of the chandeliers, in the way the soft light bounces off every surface like magic. Even the tiny lamps strung overhead, swaying gently with the music, feel sensual, just like her.

“Hey, buddy, you okay?” Greg says, pulling back the seat beside me and sliding in, his easy grin firmly in place. I grunt in response, tipping my glass toward him. He gestures to the bartender to pour him a glass of whatever I'm having, his eyes instantly widening as soon as he takes a sip.

“Damn. What’s in here? This is really good,” he mutters, taking another sip.

Even though my heart is in the dumps, I can’t help my proud smile.

“That’s Lila’s signature cocktail for the night. She came up with it a couple weeks ago. Got the inspiration from one we tasted at an event and tweaked it to make it her own.”

He nods appreciatively, taking another sip. “It’s really good. Sue always says you can tell how much Lila cares by the little details. Guess this proves her right. She and Sue are so much alike. This tastes like something Sue would come up with too.” Greg smiles fondly, continuing to sip from his glass.

It suddenly occurs to me that Lila’s not going to be able to have any of it tonight. No cocktails for her, because she’s pregnant.

Shit.

“Excuse me,” I say abruptly, motioning to the bartender. “What non-alcoholic options do you have for tonight?”

“What, you’re planning on giving up booze now?” Greg snickers, glancing to the half-finished drink in front of me.

“This isn’t for me,” I mutter, turning my focus back to the bartender.

“Just water, sir,” the bartender responds.

She’s going to need something else.

“That’s it? No fruit juice? Or even some soda?”

“No, sir. None that’s stocked. If you want that, it’s going to cost—”

“Do whatever you need to do. Just get a couple soda options and some fruit juice here as soon as possible,” I mutter, slipping a couple hundred-dollar bills across the counter to him. “There’s gonna be a lady who will ask for it.”

“Of course, sir. I’ll set it up right away,” he says eagerly, scrambling to pick up the cash I slid him and quickly disappearing behind the little bar area.

“What the hell was that about?” Greg asks, staring at me like I’ve grown another head.

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