Unbroken Promises: a friends to lovers romance Page 17

  “It was,” I admit.

  “She wrote you a letter?” he asks, hurt evident in his tone.

  “She wrote you one as well, but Joanne was given strict instructions by Delilah when she can give you yours, and before you ask, I don’t know when that is. You weren’t supposed to know I received mine. I’m sorry.”

  “What...what did she say?” he asks softly. I’m not sure how much to tell him, but before I can answer, Zoey starts crying.

  “Can you help me with her?” I ask. “I have no idea what I’m doing here.” Cole looks down at Zoey, whose cries are now getting louder, and frowns.

  “Maybe you should have thought about that before you showed up and decided to be a part of our lives. Why are you even here? Because Delilah is dead? Because your basketball season is over? Are you here to play hero? I don’t need or want you. We were doing just fine the last three years since you walked out the door and left us. You want to play hero...you figure it out your damn self.” Cole turns his back on me and his now screaming daughter and heads toward the door.

  “Cole!” I shout out his name. “Don’t do this. Don’t walk out that door, please.” I see his feet falter slightly, and I pray he comes back, but instead he walks out the door. “Dammit!”

  I bring Zoey inside and call Joanne. She walks me through how to make a bottle and explains to me about burping her and changing her diaper. Once I have Zoey situated, drinking her bottle, Joanne asks me where Cole is.

  “My guess...probably at the bar.”

  “Xander...maybe this wasn’t a good idea.”

  “Tomorrow morning we’re leaving. Cole will be two thousand miles away from here, with no booze or anywhere to run to. I have to believe he just needs time and he’ll come around.”

  “And if he doesn’t?” Joanne asks.

  “Then I’ll raise Zoey myself with your help, just like Delilah asked.”

  Joanne is silent for a moment before she says, “You read the letter.”

  “I did.”

  “I’m rooting for you, Xander,” she says, and I know she isn’t just referring to helping Cole get through this. Knowing Delilah’s mom—a woman who is the closest thing to a mother I’ve ever had—is in my corner, for some reason gives me the renewed confidence to fight for Cole.

  chapter forty

  Cole

  I’ve taken a handful of pain relievers and downed probably a dozen glasses of water, but even after several hours, my skull still feels like it’s being eaten from the inside out by a pack of savage hyenas. It probably doesn’t help that when I staggered in this morning, Xander was up and ready to go, which meant I’ve gotten zero sleep. Where we’re headed...I have no fucking clue. But anywhere is better than being in that fucking condo where Delilah died, so I’m not arguing. Plus, even in my hungover state, I must admit it’s nice to have Xander around again, even if he’s only here because Joanne called him.

  The first flight was out of Dallas to Logan airport in Boston. I slept most of the way, so I didn’t bother to ask questions. When we arrived, I realized Xander picked up some old lady on the way. From what I heard, she’s tagging along to help with Zoey. My initial thought was to tell Xander to fuck off. Zoey already has a mother, but then I remembered that her mother is dead, and her father has turned into a fucking drunk, so I kept my mouth shut.

  Now we’re on our second flight on a much smaller plane, and I probably should’ve paid attention to where it said we were heading, but it doesn’t really matter. After ordering a Jack and Coke—figuring the best way to cure a hangover is to just stay drunk—I down the drink and close my eyes. All too soon I’m being shaken awake, and when I open my eyes Xander is glaring at me. I just shrug and enter into the center aisle to deplane.

  After getting our luggage, Xander rents an SUV, and we’re on our way. With the nanny sitting in the back with Zoey, I’m forced to sit in the front with Xander. He doesn’t say a word to me the entire drive, but I do finally notice a sign on the side of the road that says we’re on Martha’s Vineyard. Hmm...apparently we’re taking a vacation. When we pull up to a massive house that’s situated on the water, Xander turns around to face the nanny.

  “Mallory, if you can please help me get Zoey situated, that would be great, then I’ll show you to your room. You actually have an entire guesthouse to yourself, so during the times you aren’t watching Zoey you’ll have your own space. From what I’ve seen in the pictures, you have a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, and living area.”

  “Great, thank you. Zoey is due to be fed, so how about we get her in, I’ll feed her, and after I lay her down, I’ll check it all out. I was also hoping maybe we can go over a schedule.”

  Xander smiles. “Sounds good. Thank you again for taking this job last minute.” I feel him glance my way, but I ignore him and get out of the vehicle. I don’t need his shit. What I need is a drink. I consider going straight to the house but instead go around to the trunk and help grab some luggage.

  Mallory grabs Zoey, and Xander grabs the pieces of luggage I didn’t. He unlocks the front door, and when we step inside, I’m taken aback by my surroundings. The home is one story and probably a good five thousand square feet, but unlike the elegance it exudes from the outside with the perfect cut shrubs and flowing fountain, inside it’s as Delilah would’ve described as homey. Dark wood floors and high rise wooden beams. The furniture looks lived in and comfy but you know it’s meant to look that way. Nothing in this home is cheap.

  I walk past the kitchen and living room and open the curtain that leads to the back patio. There’s a huge outdoor grilling area, a large pool and jacuzzi, and just past that is the view of the bay. This place more than likely costs more a night than most people pay for their monthly mortgage. It’s the ideal vacation spot. Private and luxurious, yet it makes you feel like you’re still at home. My thoughts go to how much Delilah would’ve loved this place and that has me thinking about the fact that she’ll never see it. She’ll never vacation again. I think back to the last couple years. We were so caught up in school and work, then she found out she was pregnant and that her cancer returned, we didn’t take the time to travel. Not since...well since the three of us traveled during spring break our sophomore year, right before Xander entered the draft and left us. And that depressing thought has me needing a drink.

  I drop my luggage on the ground and head into the kitchen. I start opening cabinet after cabinet. Somebody has clearly been by to stock the place. There are fresh fruits and vegetables in the fridge, meat in the freezer, but there’s not a drop of fucking liquor anywhere. Motherfuckingsonuvabitch!

  “I need the keys to the vehicle,” I say to Xander, putting my hand out. I paid attention on our drive here. Nothing is in walking distance.

  “Sorry, man. I didn’t add you to the rental insurance. Need to go somewhere? I’ll have to take you.” He shrugs, and it takes everything in me not to knock him the fuck out. I should’ve seen this coming.

  “That’s fine, I’ll call for a Lyft.” I pull up the app but nothing comes up. Of course it doesn’t. We’re on a goddamned island! “Xander!” I bark. “I’m not playing. Give me the fucking keys.” Before he can answer, Zoey starts crying, and Mallory lifts her out of her seat and scurries out of the room. Great! Now I’m making my daughter cry. My daughter...fuck! A woman I don’t know just took my daughter out of the room, so I wouldn’t upset her.

  Needing a breather, I shove my phone back into my pocket and head out back. I walk past the covered patio and pool and down to the dock. When I sit down at the end, I stare down at my hands and see they’re shaking. It’s because I need a drink. Fuck!

  “You’re not an alcoholic yet, but you must realize that’s where you’re heading,” Xander says, sitting down next to me. “I want to say this isn’t what Delilah would want for you, but I know it’s just going to set you off.”

  “You’re damn right it will,” I say, feeling myself getting worked up. “What the fuck are we even doing here? Vacationing like
we’re still friends?” I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth, but I don’t verbally acknowledge it to Xander.

  He glances my way and frowns. “Joanne threatened to take Zoey away from you. She said you stopped coming home, and I get it, because it’s where Delilah died, but what about the fact that you lost your job? And you haven’t even so much as looked your daughter’s way since before the funeral. This isn’t you, man. And you’re right. We aren’t friends. Not the person you’ve become anyway. But the old you, we’re still friends, and we always will be.”

  “Says the guy who ran away like his ass was on fire.” I let out a huff and stand. “You didn’t see me running.” I look down at Xander, and he stands. He only has maybe an inch or two on me, so we’re standing head-to-head.

  “I didn’t run. I entered the draft and had to move to where I was picked up, which happened to be in Houston. My dream was to play professional ball and that’s what I’m doing.”

  I can’t help but chuckle because we both know that’s not how it went down. “You were supposed to stay for another year, but you entered it to run.”

  I shrug and am about to walk away when Xander says, “You ran first. I sucked your dick, and you ran like a little bitch because you couldn’t handle it.” I know he’s right but fuck him for pointing that shit out.

  “Maybe it just wasn’t good, and I didn’t want to embarrass you by pointing it out,” I shoot back.

  Xander steps toward me, so close our bodies are almost touching. His eyes dart to my mouth, and instinctively I lick my dry lips.

  His eyes come back up to meet mine. “That’s not what your hard-as-fuck dick was conveying, or the moans of pleasure you let out while coming down my throat.” My traitor dick twitches at the memory of Xander sucking me off. His hot mouth gripping me like a vice.

  “It wasn’t personal. I’m a guy...anything warm and willing gets me hard.”

  “Real fucking mature,” Xander murmurs as he backs up and starts to walk away. I’m about to make a comment back when his palm hits the center of my chest, and I’m pushed off the fucking dock. I try to catch myself but there’s nothing to hold onto, and I fall backwards, hitting the salty water and sinking down a few feet, stunned that this asshole just pushed me into the bay. Paddling my arms, I rise to the surface and shake the water out of face, then swim over to the side and pull myself up.

  “Looks like you’re just as mature!” I shout, needing to have the last word.

  Xander cackles as he walks away with his middle finger raised in the air. I stand and remove my drenched shirt to squeeze the water out, no longer watching him, when I hear his voice ring out. “I figured the water would help with your hangover, plus you kind of stink.” I glare at him and see he’s laughing, his grin big and wide, and my heart thumps just fast enough to remind me what this guy does to me. Sonuvabitch.

  Figuring it’s best if I give us some space, I strip down to my boxers and lay my shirt and shorts out to dry. The sun is still beaming even though it’s probably close to 6 p.m., so I stretch myself out to take a nap. Closing my eyes, I will myself not to think about everything Xander said or the fact that when he stood that close to me, a part of me was hoping he would kiss me, and as I fall asleep, my last thoughts are of him standing on the dock with his lips crashing against mine.

  chapter forty-one

  Xander

  “Mallory, would you like to stay for dinner?” I ask as I pull the baked chicken out of the oven. In the city, I don’t cook. Because I need to eat healthy, I have someone who cooks my meals for me, and when I’m hungry all I have to do is heat them up. Being on this island, I don’t have that, and since there isn’t a whole lot to do, I’ve been cooking every day. We’ve been here for close to two weeks and Cole still won’t talk to me. Well, aside from our one conversation where I proceeded to almost kiss him, only for him to tell me my mouth was nothing more than a warm hole to stick his dick into, which ended with me pushing his ass off the dock and into the water. Since then Cole comes out to eat or to go for a swim. I’d like to say the fact that he’s not drinking anymore is a step in the right direction, but at the same time he’s still refusing to even acknowledge his daughter.

  “Thank you, but if it’s okay with you, I’m going to go call my grandbabies,” she says. Some nights she will eat with me, but other nights she excuses herself to call her family. With the time difference, our night is their morning.

  “Absolutely, I’ve got Zoey for the night. Thank you.” I look over at the little angel who is sprawled out on her cushion of blankets and kicking her piano toy. Every time her tiny foot connects, it makes a noise, and she babbles in excitement. I’m making myself a plate of food just as Cole walks inside from the pool with only a white towel wrapped tightly around his torso, beads of water dripping down his muscular chest and toned front.

  “There’s chicken, rice, and vegetables,” I offer like I always do. I’m prepared for him to tell me no thanks like he always does, so I’m shocked when I hear his wet feet pad into the kitchen and stop next to me. He’s so close, I can smell the chlorine on him. He picks up a piece of chicken from my plate and drops it into his mouth.

  “Damn, that shit’s good,” he says.

  “I can make you a plate,” I say, stunned.

  “Alright, let me just change into something dry.” He walks away, and I’m frozen in place. What the fuck just happened? I turn to watch him go just in time to see him pause in front of Zoey. She kicks the piano and babbles, and Cole’s eyes widen. I hold my breath, waiting to see how he’s going to react. She was only six weeks old when Delilah died, which is the last time Cole really looked at her. Eight weeks doesn’t seem like a long time, but in baby time, a lot happens. Just these last couple weeks with Zoey, I’ve witnessed her change so much. She tries to hold her bottle when I feed her. She doesn’t smile yet, but she does look at me like she recognizes me now. She’s kicking her feet and babbling now, and when she wakes up in the morning, I’ve spotted her trying to roll over. She hasn’t done it yet, but it’s only a matter of time. I’ve googled her age, and she appears to be on track. She’s eating more and lasting longer between feedings. Her naps are getting longer and less frequent. Mallory has been a godsend. She assumed she was simply here to babysit, but once I explained I wanted to learn how to care for Zoey, she started helping me instead of just doing it for me.

  I watch Cole watch Zoey for a few long beats. I don’t say a word, waiting to see what he’s going to do, praying he doesn’t walk away from her. And when he bends down and picks her up, I feel myself let out a breath of relief I didn’t even realize I was holding. He holds her close, closing his eyes and inhaling her scent. When he opens them, his gaze finds mine—tears visible in his eyes.

  “What did I do?” he whispers, and I’m almost positive it’s just hit him that he’s been ignoring his daughter for the past eight weeks. I can see the guilt in his features.

  “Don’t do that,” I say. “Delilah died, and you needed to grieve.” I set the plates down then cut across the room to him.

  “She’s making noises. She’s kicking shit. What the hell did I do?” he repeats, and it’s clear he’s in shock.

  “Cole, you were grieving,” I say again. “Joanne took care of her, then Mallory and I took over. She’s being cared for.”

  “Not by her parents,” he points out. “Her mother is dead, and her father abandoned her.” He looks up at me. “What kind of father doesn’t even notice his daughter is months older?”

  “The kind who needed some time to get over her mother’s death. No, what you did wasn’t ideal. But look, we’ve been here for two weeks and you haven’t drank.”

  “Oh great!” He chuckles humorlessly. “Your expectations of me go as high as my simply being sober.” He situates Zoey, who is squirming in his arms, and starts talking to her. “Daddy’s here, sunshine. I’m so sorry.” He brings her to his chest, and she lets out a soft coo. “I need to go change.” He kisses her forehead a
nd lays her back down. “I’ll be right back,” he tells her before he hurries down the hall. Once I hear his door shut, I kneel down in front of Zoey, who is back to kicking her feet out.

  “Everything’s going to be okay, sweet girl.”

  The first time I called her the same nickname I gave Delilah, I felt guilty. It had just slipped out. But as I watched her, I knew it fit. She looks just like her mother, and she’s just as sweet as her. I’ve read in several baby books that some babies cry all the time and wake up all through the night. Not Zoey, she’s as sweet as it gets, just like her mom. She sleeps almost all night and wakes up happy every morning. It’s clear she’s her mother’s daughter, so I’ve decided the name is being passed down. Delilah might not be with us any longer, but her daughter is alive and will know who her mother was and just how damn loved she was.

  Seeing that her eyes are getting heavy, I move her to her swing and give her a pacifier. I chuckle when her eyes almost instantly roll in the back of her head.

  “What’s so funny?” Cole walks out dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and a plain black tee. His hair is messy from just having showered. His eyes lock with mine for a moment, and I’m almost positive he knows I was checking him out, but he doesn’t call me out on it. He never does. Cole is the master at pretending shit doesn’t happen.

  “She loves her pacifier.” I point to Zoey who is already asleep. “Stick her in the swing and stick a pacifier in her mouth, and it’s like she’s been given a sleeping drug.”

  Cole smiles but doesn’t say anything, instead sitting down at the table in front of a plate of food. I pour us a glass of water and sit down across from him. Unsure of where we stand, I begin eating, hoping he will speak up, and he does.

  “Look man, I just want to apologize and thank you,” Cole says, putting his fork down and looking at me. “She wasn’t supposed to die.” He shakes his head like he still can’t believe it, and I completely understand because too many days I wake up and forget she’s gone. “I just...I lost it, and since I don’t remember much, anything shitty I said, please know I didn’t mean it. I appreciate you stepping in. The truth is if it weren’t for you, I would be halfway to becoming an alcoholic by now.”