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“Because lightning never strikes the same place twice.”
Don't be so sure!
My heart was beating hard and fast. I felt ridiculous, like a fifth grader who’d just held hands with a girl for the first time. For fuck’s sake, I’d tackled her on my bed the other night. This was nothing. Except, it felt like something
“Your body is fucking perfect, Cheyenne.” I swear to God, those words came out of his mouth. My jaw fell open. His face went red. “Fuck. Sorry.” “For what? It was a compliment.” “Men shouldn’t comment on women’s bodies.”
“I love my dad the most out of anybody.” Girl, same, I wanted to say. Instead I leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I know.”
It was a long message from Cheyenne—and what I saw made my jaw drop. Something in me snapped.
Before she left the room, she and my mother exchanged a look that had me wondering if the whole helping-with-the-dishes thing had been a setup.
“Well, accidents happen. But when you have something precious in your hands, you need to hold on tight. Understand?”
‘Woman is the most fiendish instrument of torture ever devised to bedevil the days of man.’”
“Pretty fucking good.” I gasped. It was the phone sex voice.
“That when you have something precious in your hands, you need to hold on tight.”
“When you have something precious in your hands, you need to hold on tight.”
“I feel a lot of things. I feel like I want to hold you all night. I feel like all the oxygen goes out of the room when you enter it. I feel like I’m the only guy in the world when you look at me. I feel like there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make you smile.”
“You know, you’re making it really easy to fall in love with you. Are you doing that on purpose?” I laughed, blissfully happy. “Yes.”
“Lightning can strike the same place twice, if you let it,” she went on. “But you can’t be afraid.”
“Yes. Well, she didn’t say it like that, but I’m pretty sure she wants one.” I shook my head, amazed. “Mariah, I do want to date Cheyenne. That’s who I’m talking about.” She perked right up. “Really?” “Yes.”
“Yay!” She picked up her pizza again and took another bite. I waited for her to say something else—put up some semblance of resistance—but she didn’t. There was no fucking way this could be that easy.
“I love you, Cheyenne. And I’m so happy you never gave up on me. I hope you know that.”
I was Cole Mitchell’s girlfriend! How was that even possible?
I practically floated upstairs, where Mariah flitted from room to room, chirping about which one was hers, which one was her dad’s, and which room could be the baby’s.
“Baby?” Enzo’s eyebrows shot up and he looked from me to Cole to my stomach. “Is ther...
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Cole rolled his eyes. “Yes. My daught...
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I wanted to wash the wedding china with her after Christmas dinner. I wanted the wedding. I wanted it all. More than that—I could see it all.
The bed that was ours, in a home that we shared, in a life that we’d started together.
“You told me a lie too.” I met her eyes. “What do you mean?” “You said you loved her the real way.” “I do love her the real way,” I insisted. She crossed her arms, pinning me with an accusing stare. “Then you wouldn’t have let her go.”
Wisdom from a 9 year old
