Page 79 of I Wish I Would've Warned You

“I heard you’ve been fucking other girls.”

“From who?”

“Taylor.”

“Fucking really?” He laughs, but it’s sharp and bitter. “You sound jealous.”

“And you sound like a fucking hypocrite.”

“I haven’t touched anyone since the day you decided to abandon me for no good reason.”

“I gave you all the reasons.”

“Name one that actually holds up.” He traces a slow line along my bottom lip, and I swallow hard.

“Exactly,” he says quietly. “I don’t plan on being with anyone else. And last time I checked, your mouth—break or not—belongs to me.”

“Cole…”

“Your boyfriend has shady eyes,” he says, stepping back. “He can’t be trusted. And he doesn’t like you the way I do.”

“Like?”

“I’d say love, but that doesn’t seem to mean anything to you.”

He turns and walks out, leaving me with the echo of his words, the pounding in my chest, and the scent of chlorine hanging in the air.

32

EMILY

The night starts off pretending to be normal.

Thanksgiving dinner, hosted not at a home but in the middle of a sprawling bookstore in Tribeca—one of those glossy, curated spaces with floor-to-ceiling shelves, a skylight dome, and string lights laced through rafters. The long harvest table runs down the center of the poetry section, absurdly elegant for a space meant for quiet readers.

But this isn’t a quiet night.

Aidan’s team has rebranded the holiday as a “Thankful Reflections Book Launch Experience.” There’s a printed menu. Branded wine glasses. Organic turkey with truffle stuffing. Half the guests are industry contacts, the other half are press—and every last one of them is here to see a man pretend he’s someone he’s not.

I didn’t want to come. I told myself I wouldn’t.

But Justin’s a fan—a real fan—and asked me, just once, to come with him. To let him get a book signed. I said yes. I thought I could slip in, smile politely, get through one drink and leave.

Instead, I ended up two seats from my mother, three seats from Aidan, and directly across from Cole.

He hasn’t looked at me once since I sat down. Not even when Justin reached for my hand beneath the table. Not even when Aidan stood up, clinked his glass, and began to read.

It starts like this:

“Children don’t need perfect fathers. They need honest ones. My son, Cole, once told me that my strength was the compass that guided him through the worst moments of his life. That he hoped one day to be half the man I was.”

—Chapter 6, Father First, Always

I hear the breath catch in Cole’s throat before I see his jaw tighten.

Then comes the first question.

A voice rises from the end of the table, firm and sharp. A reporter.

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