Page 56 of Cole

“The carbonara here is life-changing,” Cole told them as they settled into the curved booth. Annie slid in beside him, close enough that he could catch the light floral scent of her perfume.

“Life-changing pasta? That’s quite a claim,” she teased, her eyes sparkling in the restaurant’s dim lighting.

“I stand by it,” Cole insisted, his shoulder brushing against hers as he reached for the menu.

Benji peppered Cole with questions about basketball training and life in the NBA while they waited for their food. Cole answered patiently, touched by the boy’s genuine interest.

“You know,” Cole said, turning to Annie as Benji became distracted by the dessert menu, “your brother might have a future in sports journalism. He asks better questions than most reporters I deal with.”

Annie smiled fondly at Benji. “He’s always been curious. Mom says he exhausted her with ‘why’ questions before he was even three.”

The conversation stayed on basketball until their food arrived. Cole watched Annie take her first bite of the carbonara, smiling at her expression of surprise and delight.

“Okay, you weren’t exaggerating,” she admitted. “This might actually be life-changing pasta.”

He grinned, inexplicably pleased. “Told you.”

Throughout dinner, Cole found himself increasingly aware of Annie’s presence beside him—the way she listened intently to everyone at the table, her thoughtful responses, the gentle humor that emerged when she felt comfortable. He’d known from their conversations and texts that Annie was special, but seeing her interact with his world—so naturally, so genuinely—only confirmed what his heart had been telling him for months.

As the evening progressed, Cole noticed Annie stifling a yawn behind her hand.

“We should probably call it a night soon,” Cole suggested, reluctant but practical.

The others agreed, so once he’d settled the check, despite their objections, they left the restaurant. The hot day had given way to a cool evening, and there were plenty of people out and about on the sidewalks.

Leaving the restaurant, they headed back to where they’d parked. Dawn and Andrew would take Benji back to the hotel in their rental vehicle, while Cole had offered to drive Annie since he didn’t want their time together to end just yet.

“You played amazingly tonight,” Annie said as they walked toward his car, their steps synchronized in the quiet parking lot. “I can see why you love it so much.”

“It’s different when someone important is watching,” Cole admitted, unlocking his car with a press of a button. “Means more somehow.”

Annie’s eyes met his, a question in them. “Am I someone important, Cole?”

The directness of her question caught him off guard, but in the best possible way. Annie had never specifically addressed their relationship, making this moment all the more significant.

“Yeah,” he said softly, opening the passenger door for her. “You are.”

The drive to her hotel was comfortable, filled with easy conversation about tomorrow’s charity event and plans for their remaining days together.

His declaration of her importance to him lingered between them, but neither of them seemed to need to pursue that admission further. It was enough for the moment.

When Cole pulled up to the hotel entrance, he put the car in park and turned toward her.

“I’m really glad you’re here, Annie.”

“Me too,” she replied, her voice gentle in the darkness of the car. “Tonight was special.”

Cole hesitated, then reached over to tuck a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. The simple gesture felt intimate, a boundary crossed with mutual consent. Annie leaned slightly into his touch, her eyes never leaving his.

“I should go in,” she whispered, though she made no move to leave.

“Probably,” Cole agreed, equally motionless.

Finally, Annie smiled and reached for the door handle. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here,” Cole promised. “Sleep well.”

He watched as she walked into the hotel lobby, turning once to wave before disappearing into the elevator. Only when she was gone did Cole release the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

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