Page 48 of Riding the High

Every single thing has its place. His socks are folded perfectly in one section, boxers in another. The entire suitcase is a sort of masterpiece as it opens further, and I discover shorts, sweats and jeans in an underside compartment. I think of how I tossed a few bathing suits, some shorts and tanks, and my toiletries and books into my own case. No rhyme, no reason. It’s official: Cole and I are polar opposites in every way.

I get to work unraveling each pair of socks and do my best to mix them up. They’re all crisp and white but have different-colored Nike swooshes on them. I put navy with gray, black with red, and so on. I unfold his boxers and flip them inside out, before placing everything back exactly where I found it, so he won’t notice until he unpacks. I stand back and smile, then remember the joke Reds boxers I gave him one Christmas. I wonder if he still has them and make my way to what I assume is his underwear drawer.

I pick right. Top drawer, at least twenty pairs of perfectly folded boxers, mostly black. I shuffle around for a few moments before I find them. The Reds pair. I quickly pull them out and replace them with one of the pairs he packed. I smile as I consider the fact he’ll have to wear them one of the days we’re away.

I go to close the drawer, but my sweater catches in the handle and I knock a small wooden box off his dresser in the process. It spills to the ground with a clanging sound. I freeze, waiting to hear if Mabel has heard.

What am I doing in Cole’s underwear drawer?

I move to pick up the items that have fallen out of the box and realize they’re handcuffs. Four or five different pairs. I pull two out for inspection just as Mabel comes bounding into the room. I quickly stuff them into the pockets of my loose gym shorts, and pull my oversized tank down to cover them.

“What fell?” she asks. “What are you doing?”

I smile. “Just making sure Daddy has everything he needs.”

“Can I help?”

“Of course,” I answer. “Do you want to help me zip up the suitcase?”

She nods and we push down on the case to close it. When we’re finished, I hear the oven timer sound and realize our early dinner is ready. I move to the kitchen in my bare feet and pop on Cole’s fluffy oven mitts to pull out the lasagna that we prepared this afternoon. It’s perfectly bubbly, just the way my mother and nonna make it.

I’m just getting the table ready when Cole comes through the front door an hour early from work. Only, unlike most days, he isn’t empty-handed. Instead, he’s carrying two of the biggest bouquets I’ve ever seen: dahlias, roses, lilies, carnations. A real stunning mix of blooms. Mabel runs over to him as he places both bouquets in one hand to pull his sheriff hat off and hang it on the hook at the front door.

“You got flowers for Ginger too?!” she exclaims as he bends down to kiss her cheek and hand her one of the bundles of flowers.

Cole’s rugged masculine beauty stuns me. The slow steady grace with which he toes his large boots off; the slight scuff along his wide jaw; his ass in those tan uniform pants. I’m a sucker for it all.

His eyes flit to mine across the room and I almost drop the freshly baked lasagna as the corners of his perfect lips turn up in a grin.

“Of course. I couldn’t let her room be lonely while we’re gone, any more than yours,” he says as he approaches me.

Am I still holding the lasagna?

I blink and set it down on the warming board on the stove. When I turn around, Cole is right there.

“I wasn’t sure exactly what kind of flowers you like, so I just got one of everything Cindy had,” he says, mentioning the owner of the flower shop in town.

“I …” I manage to croak out, fumbling like an idiot. Cole chuckles, pulling the oven mitts from my hands and placing my bouquet in my arms as Mabel comes back into the kitchen with hers.

‘I picked my spot!” she says, and I struggle to keep up with this little unspoken piece of their life between them.

I watch as Cole pulls out two vases from a kitchen cupboard, unwraps her flowers, and fills one vase with water.

“There’s one for you there too …” He gestures to the pretty crystal vase left on the counter as he heads off with Mabel to her room. He’s back in less than a minute and finds me in the same spot, staring down at my flowers as I take in their heavenly scent. He laughs lightly.

“Somewhere along the line of Gemma and I splitting up, Mabel developed a kind of anxiety around leaving home for any length of time. Sometimes it’s only when she leaves, but other times it’s when we both do …” he explains as he takes my flowers from me.

“That’s understandable,” I say softly as he pulls the wrapping from them, and arranges the stalks carefully in the vase before filling it with water.

“She even has a bit of an attachment to our house itself. Our holistic doctor called her an empath, which basically means she feels everything. She worries the house will be lonely when we’re gone, so we put flowers in her room to keep it company. They usually go in the window in the sun. I don’t know why, but it makes her feel better about leaving. Doc says it’s a phase and that it will pass.”

My heart swells at the effort this man makes to keep his daughter settled.

“Thank you, Cole, they’re so pretty,” I manage.

“Go pick your spot in your room while I serve up this feast,” he says, rubbing my shoulder. “Smells so damn good, Ginger.”

I look down at the blooms then back up at him as Mabel bounds back into the room.

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