Page 35 of Don't Leave
I slip my slip from his to twist nervously in my lap. “It can’t be something common, otherwise it could get confusing.” I give him a look that says—duh.
“Right,” he drawls, “That’sthe problem with Guggenheim. Don’t you think you’re overreacting just a bit?”
I scrunch my face. “No, not at all.”
Before I can argue further, he holds up his hand. “You know what, Guggenheim it is.”
Surprised that he’s capitulating so easily, I smile. “Really?”
“Yup.” He stretches out the word so that it sounds more likeYuuuuup. “The last thing I want is for us to have a fight rightbefore we arrive at my parent’s house. If the afternoon takes a turn for the worst, all you have to do is find a way to workGuggenheiminto the conversation. For example, you could say—Cole just made my Guggenheim feel super good. Or— would either of you like to see my Guggenheim? It’s freaking gorgeous.”
Even though he doesn’t glance in my direction as he utters those ridiculous sentences, the edges of his mouth twitch in amusement. “Okay? Does that work for you?”
My eyes narrow until they’re practically slits. “I have two questions for you. One, are you really making fun of me at a time like this?” The closer we get to his house, the more jacked up my nerves become. “And two,” I tilt my head before asking rather seriously, “you think my Guggenheim is gorgeous?”
He bursts out laughing before his gaze locks briefly on mine. It doesn’t take long for the chuckles to die away as those golden-colored depths heat up. “Fuckinggorgeous. Best Guggenheim I’ve ever seen.”
The edges of my lips lift just a bit.
Well, alright then…
“And later on, I’m going to show you just how much I love your Guggenheim.”
Before I can say anything more, he zips the car into a driveway.
“We’re here.”
I sit frozen in place, studying the house Cole grew up in. It isn’t all that different from my own childhood home. A large, brick two-story with huge white pillars in front. It’s a bit fancier, with maybe more square footage, but aside from that, the architectural style is very similar.
For a moment, I can almost see Cole as a nine or ten-year-old boy, winding up and taking slap shots in the driveway. The image brings a hint of a smile to my lips. I bet he was adorable with his mop of unruly dark hair and golden-brown eyes.
I’m so lost in thought, that it’s a surprise when the passenger side door opens and Cole holds out his hand for me to take hold of.
“You’ll see, it’ll be fine.” He smiles and his dimples flash. Even though I’m nervous, my heart squeezes at the sight of them. God, I love his dimples.
Oh, who am I kidding?
I’m completely head over heels in love with the guy.
Dimples or no dimples.
It’s why I agreed to this. I want to know more about Cole and his family. Meeting them re-solidifies that we’re taking our relationship to the next level.
With a quick intake of air, I place my hand in his and he helps me out of the Mustang. Unwilling to show up at his house empty handed, I grab hold of the small bouquet of wildflowers we picked up at a grocery store on the way over.
Nerves buzz across my skin as I stand behind Cole on the front porch.
He throws open the door and calls out, “Hello?”
A second or two pass as the house remains silent. Stupid as it sounds, I send up a quick prayer that maybe his parents forgot about us getting together this afternoon and aren’t around. Just as my hopes begin to rise, they burst into a ball of flames when we hear footsteps trudging up the basement steps.
“Cole?” It’s a man’s voice. “Is that you?”
“Yup, we just got here,” he hollers back as we wait in the foyer.
My gaze darts around the entryway and the living room, which is to the right of us. All the furnishings are elegant and polished to a high shine. There’s a warm, inviting quality that makes it feel like home.
Like outside, I can picture Cole kicking up his feet and watching TV on the couch or making out with his ex-girlfriend…
