“I don’t have a wife,” he cut through her. Why did his deep rumble sound so heavy with emotion?
“Yes, you do!” Crying out, she pushed his chest again. How dare he lie to her again and again? “You said it yourself.”
“What I said is that she wasn’t my ex.” By now his whole body seemed to vibrate as if he needed all his willpower to keep himself from her and to speak calmly instead of reacting to her agitated words. There was something in his dark eyes pleading with her to understand. But she honestly didn’t. What was he trying to tell her?
“When she isn’t your ex, you’re still married. That’s what I said.” Perplexed, she only muttered the words, the anger and hurt still there, making her tone sharp. When Chester began to wiggle in her arms, she let him down. All of this was too much for the little dog. Like a kid between fighting parents, he literally sat in the middle of them. His cute tiny head turned from one human to the other.
“No, Jasmine, we’re not still married.” He only rasped out the words, for a second he even closed his eyes. What was he saying? That they were in the middle of the divorce—not yet his ex, but not his wife anymore? Since talking about the fact was so hard for him, he obviously wasn’t over his soon-to-be ex-wife. All in all, it meant only heartbreak for Jasmine. Under no circumstances could she be with a man whose heart belonged to another.
“Messy divorce?” she asked dryly, crossing her arms in front of her chest protectively.
At her words, he shook his head, and finally his control snapped. Suddenly he stood right before her, his hands framing her face. He leaned down his head until it was only inches from hers. “You have to understand what I’m saying.” At his heavy words, she shook beneath his touch. Intensely he looked into her eyes while she was staring up at him. Despair and frustration tightened her chest.
“Cole, I am trying to understand you, but I just don’t.” Helplessly she shrugged. Wanting to push his hands away, she laid hers onto his wrists. The stubborn man didn’t budge.
“My wife is dead.”
♥♥♥
Chapter 13
FOUR WORDS HE hadn’t said in years. My wife is dead. Four words which nearly killed him. Four words he hated so badly even after all these years, even when looking into Jasmine’s beautiful green eyes. In fact, he couldn’t meet her gaze anymore when thinking about Cara. It didn’t sit right with him, as if he were betraying her. After five years, the colorful architect in front of him was the first woman he’d touched or looked at after what had happened with Cara.
It was all so new—the more he loved being with Jasmine, the more he felt guilty. Inwardly, he was fighting a battle with himself. Past and present. Everything was so confusing; he hadn’t felt in years and now it was all too much to handle. Gripping his head with both hands, he stepped back from Jasmine. On the floor, her poor puppy cried as if feeling Cole’s pain.
“I’m so sorry, Cole.” Her whisper made him snap his head into her direction. He’d never wanted her pity, only her passion. She brought back life when he’d thought that everything had been ripped away from him so long ago. Some parts of his mangled heart must still be functioning, though, otherwise he would have never reacted to Jasmine’s lively eyes and smart mouth.
Still, he couldn’t keep from asking himself what Cara would think of him now. Having to talk about her brought it all back as if it had only happened yesterday. In his chest his heart beat so fast, the pain ripped him apart all over again. Breathing heavily, he shook his head. “My wife is dead,” he repeated, the words dying in his throat. He wanted to get out of his own skin or hit the walls with his fists. But he knew that would frighten Jasmine and the little French bulldog. So Cole kept it all in, barely hanging on.
When soft hands pulled at his own, it barely prevented him from exploding like he did five years ago. “It’s okay,” her sweet voice told him soothingly. When she wrapped her arms around his heavy chest, pressing herself against his rigid body, he could hardly stand it and at the same time craved nothing more. The gentle touch reminded him too much of Cara, though the two women were completely different.
No matter what Ronald Hall thought, Cole hadn’t been lonely the past five years. At least he hadn’t felt it. Ronald was like a father to Cole, had been trying to get him to socialize more, but he hadn’t been able to handle a life without Cara in it. So he’d buried himself in work. But now, after Jasmine had left the mansion yesterday, his chest had felt like a damn mountain was sitting on it. Loneliness had been so stark, it had stolen his breath away. When he’d seen her at Hall & Son, she’d opened up some kind of gateway. After he’d gotten a taste, he now was addicted.
Burying his head in the place between her neck and shoulder, Cole gave in to her hug, closing his arms tightly around her. While Cara had been a gentle soul, always calm and sweet, Jasmine was a firecracker. That was the good thing about it, though, for Cole could never love another woman like Cara.
Jasmine had burned him. Perhaps he didn’t know yet how to handle this new life, but he did know that he was going to keep her. Nothing else would do.
“I’m very sorry for what I said,” she whispered against his chest.
A deep chuckle rumbled through him. “For calling me an asshole?”
“In my head, I called you much worse,” she threw back at him. Despite everything, he smiled. She really was something else. Grinning like a fool he leaned down to press a kiss against her lips, ignoring the sting of guilt which came with it.
“You know what? I’ll make us grilled cheese sandwiches—mine are the best!” She winked at him then her gaze grew serious again. “And then we’ll talk.”
Solemnly he nodded. He might not like the prospect, but Jasmine deserved it. He had hurt her and hated it. In this moment, he wasn’t sure how to make it right, but he would give his all. A little voice in his head warned him, though, that to give his all, he had to be whole. In five years he hadn’t healed, hadn’t been complete. How was that supposed to ever change? Was it fair to want everything from Jasmine, when he could only give parts of his shattered soul in return?
Balling his hands into fists, Cole silently followed her into the kitchen. Could he ever make her happy if she always felt like he wasn’t wholly with her? He was a selfish man because he still wanted to never let her go. With gritted teeth, he watched her rummage through her kitchen. Soon the apartment smelled heavenly—Jasmine hadn’t lied before; her grilled cheese sandwiches probably really were the best. When he took his first bite, he groaned. He’d missed that.
The little things.
Simply watching his woman doing everyday stuff, hearing her laughter, being with her. When he’d cooked for Jasmine it had been the first evening in five years that he hadn’t bought takeout or heated a meal in the microwave. After Cara’s death, he hadn’t taken care of himself properly, due to the simple fact that he hadn’t cared about anything anymore.
Sharing these thousand little things with someone again felt damned good. Hell, even brushing their teeth side by side in his bathroom had been a beautiful experience. Yes, his head really was that fucked up. Cole was starved for touch, for simple interaction—for everything, really. He’d only realized it when he’d snapped out of his stupor after long, empty years, spent working, working and working. It had been the sole thing to distract himself from what had happened. The sole thing keeping himself from doing something stupid like driving his car into a tree.
“Taste good?” Jasmine asked. Leaning over the kitchen counter, she looked at him expectantly.
“More than good, perfect,” Cole agreed immediately so that she happily giggled. The sound was like music to his ears. For a few minutes, they ate in silence, just enjoying the food. After having finished her sandwich, she watched him eat his second one. The way she looked at him gave him a bad feeling in his gut. At first she’d seemed sympathetic, then pensive, and at the end resolved.
Absolutely not a good sign. He’d been married to a woman for eleven years, had liv
ed with her for fifteen years, and had been together with her for seventeen years—he knew trouble when he saw it.
“Cole,” she whispered in that brokenhearted tone that had ripped his insides to shreds only yesterday when she’d fled the mansion. Bracing himself, he pulled his shoulders back.
“I am really sorry for your loss, but still, it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t be with you.” Her hands on the table shook. So badly he wanted to take them and soothe her. Of course she wouldn’t let him, so he forced himself not to react. “You can’t even change a single thing about the house. And I can’t possibly be with you when you’re constantly thinking about her.”
That was the thing Jasmine didn’t understand, though—when they were together, she was the only one Cole thought about. Perhaps that was one of the reasons he felt so guilty all the time. He would never forget Cara and…no, he couldn’t even end the thought.
“I can’t be second string; I deserve better than that. I don’t want you to forget her, that’s not what I’m asking, but I need to know that you’re with me. And seeing you in that house…” Rapidly, she blinked. Tears? He clenched his fist, hard. “It was like she was still there beside you. Perhaps that’s the reason why I felt like an adulterer. Because you do feel guilty, don’t you?”
When she looked him in the eyes now, all her fire was gone; only vulnerability was left. Still, he couldn’t deny what she was saying. Watching her realize the truth, how tears began to fill her big green eyes, broke something inside of him. He didn’t want to hurt her; he needed her. There’d been far enough hurt in his life, no need for more, but he couldn’t change the fact that he still saw Cara in every corner of their home. How her honey-blond hair swayed in the wind when she stood beside the opened windows. How her laughter sounded when he tickled her in the morning. Or how she sat on the sofa, completely intrigued by some novel. They’d been in a happy bubble for so long; outside of it he couldn’t breathe anymore.
“Perhaps you need more time, Cole,” Jasmine whispered, a tear falling from her eye and landing on the kitchen counter. But it wasn’t time he needed—five years hadn’t changed a single thing. Fuck, he had no idea how to ever get over what he’d lost that night.
“I need you,” he contradicted in a rough voice. Seeing her hurt was like a punch to his gut. Reaching out, he tried to take her hand in his, needing to touch her, to soothe her. With a low sob, she pulled away from him.
“I think you aren’t ready yet. Grief needs time; that’s okay. But I will not be in a relationship that makes me feel like a dirty cheater.” Shaking her head, she slowly backed away until she leaned against the refrigerator. “Please, just go now. It’s not fair to both of us. Give yourself some time.”
No, she didn’t understand. Time gave him nothing. But he hoped simply being with her, would make it easier. The moments they’d shared up until now were the best he’d had in years. He wasn’t ready to give that up, to give life up when he’d just found his way back into it again. Thanks to her.
“Jasmine,” he began but she shook her head, each tear falling from her cheek gutting him.
“Please just go.” At the pain on her face, he wanted to punch something. He needed to make it better but was so damn lost. How could he change his past? How could he change the fact that Cara was everywhere he went?
“This is not over,” he told her because it couldn’t be. In order not to cause her any more pain, he’d go now, give her some space and then come back later to somehow convince her that they could work. She whimpered when he pressed a kiss to her forehead. The sound chased him out of her apartment. Jumping into his car, he drove way too fast to his own apartment here in the city.
There was far too much energy in his body to only think about work. Pacing in his study, he didn’t notice how much time passed. When the phone rang, he was ripped out of his racing thoughts. The concierge was on the other end of the line—Ronald apparently had decided to surprise him with a visit. Allowing the concierge to let Ronald up, Cole made his way to the elevator. Only with a special key card could you access the penthouse. When the door opened to Cole’s apartment, Ronald greeted him with a small smile.
“David told me what happened.” With that, he stepped out of the elevator. Directly in front of Cole, he came to a halt only to give him a short but tight hug. Cole’s father had been Ronald’s best friend but died in his early fifties of a heart attack. Executives and stress. Since then Ronald had been like a father to Cole.
“David should mind his own business,” Cole growled as soon as Ronald let go of him again. Walking into the large living room, he made his way directly to the bar. Seconds later, he poured both of them a glass of the good stuff. Whiskey.
“He overreacted,” Ronald agreed from behind Cole, “but he has always been very protective of the women he cares about. He likes Jasmine.”
Whirling around, Cole spilled some of the whiskey from the glass he’d been about to hand over to Ronald. “David should leave his fucking hands off her!” In a clear warning, he pointed at Ronald. The old man only smiled. He’d always been good at getting the truth from Cole, even if he didn’t want to tell it. The clever bastard had provoked him, and he’d played right into his hands.
“I’m glad to see you like this.” Calm as ever, Ronald took the glass out of Cole’s hand. In thanks, he nodded and sipped at the drink.
“Like what?” Cole growled in question. Like he’d lost his mind all over again? Like he was missing the hell out of Jasmine, though he’d just seen her? Like he was a jealous fool?
“Alive,” Ronald said simply, his blue eyes resting on the younger man’s face. “In five years, I haven’t seen you with anyone but business associates. Even when you were over for dinner, David and Jane joking around, you didn’t laugh once!” Cautiously as if he knew that Cole was tense as a bowstring, Ronald stepped toward him. “Eating your emotions up isn’t healthy. I’m glad to see you finally care about someone again.”
Drinking his glass empty at once, Cole gulped hard. “It’s not enough, though.” The words left his lips quietly. In defeat, he let himself sink down on the couch next to the bar. Seeing tears in Jasmine’s eyes slayed him.
“Why not?” Curious, Ronald raised a brow.
“Cara and…they’re on my mind always. When I’m with Jasmine I feel good—for the first time in forever—but I also feel guilty. She knows and says she deserves better.” Helplessly he shrugged. “She’s right.” The simple words couldn’t hide his desperation. He was stuck between wishing the night five years ago had never happened and wanting to start over. With Jasmine.
“You never really grieved, Cole.” Although Ronald’s words were spoken sympathetically, Cole immediately jumped up in anger. He hadn’t grieved? Fuck, he missed them like nothing else in the whole damn world. For five years. He hadn’t been able to live on without them. Telling him he hadn’t done all that felt like not honoring the dead. Like Ronald had spit in his face.
“Like hell I don’t miss them!”
Ronald didn’t lose his shit when confronted with a seething Cole. Instead he pointed out, “I said, you didn’t grieve.”
“But I did,” Cole growled.
The old man on the couch shrugged. “Perhaps the first few days after it happened, but then you buried yourself in work. I think you didn’t allow yourself to feel anything.” That was the moment when the other man’s voice grew incredibly gentle. “Perhaps it hurt too much?”
Nailed it. Hearing these words made Cole realize what he’d done. Namely somehow turning his feelings off. Better to feel nothing at all than the excruciating pain that had been constant back then. The only downside? Now that Jasmine had turned the switch on again, the old emotions were immediately back as if he’d only put them on pause.
“You never dealt with it; you just tried not to feel it anymore.”
Staring at the floor, Cole listened to the man who’d become a second father to him but wasn’t able to look him in the eye. Ronald wa
s right. Only what to do about it?
“You never got the chance to say goodbye.” Cole nodded, cursing that one single night all over again. It had all happened too fast—they hadn’t even allowed him to stay in the room. The word complications had been thrown around a hell of a lot, but nobody had told him exactly what was wrong. He hadn’t been there when it happened, and knowing that she died alone and fucking afraid still killed him. At the thought, he swallowed hard, otherwise a bellow of sorrow probably would have left his lips.
“I need to go,” he pressed out. He hadn’t been there for Cara and needed to feel close to her again so fucking bad, it ripped him to shreds. “I need to go,” he said again, still staring at the floor instead of his counterpart. Somehow the old man knew where Cole was headed nonetheless.
“I visited her yesterday, brought her some flowers.” Gently Ronald squeezed his shoulders. “She’d want you to be happy again; you know that, right?”
“Yeah, I know.” Cole nodded because it would have been the thing he wished for her if it had been the other way around. They’d loved each other—real love was selfless. Cara had been all that and more.
Before he could go, he couldn’t hold back the words anymore. “She was alone.” His voice broke. “I wasn’t there.”
♥♥♥
Chapter 14
THE GRAVESTONE WAS a beautiful one, nothing extravagant, just what Cara would have liked. With the help of Ronald and his wife, Anna, Cole’s mother had taken care of all the logistics back then. Her broken son hadn’t been able to even think about a funeral.
Not once had Cole come here before. There were a lot of things a man could do when his loved ones were in danger. But when his loved ones were already lost? For Cole it had been like the whole world had ended, perhaps because Cara had been his world since their senior year in high school. Seventeen years they’d shared together. That was most of his adult life.
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