6. Cole

"Thanks again.I was, um, I was wondering…" Jenna dipped her head, and she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear as we pulled up to her apartment building.

It was the same thing I'd done earlier that evening to Bailey. I could still feel the silky strands of her hair and hear the short gasp of breath she'd taken when I had.

Jenna continued, "I know that this was…not a date, but would you ever?—"

"I don't date clients." I should have cut her off before she'd even started the question, but I'd been too preoccupied thinking about Bailey.

"Oh, okay." I could see the disappointment in her eyes. This was the part I hated most about the job.

"It makes things too complicated." It didn't matter what terms I laid out in the contracts my dates signed; this was where we ended up ninety percent of the time.

"Right. Yeah, no. I understand. Well, thank you."

I nodded as she walked up to her apartment. I wanted to stop her and tell her that me not dating wasn't personal; it wasn't a rejection of her, but I'd gone down that route before, and it usually just dragged out the inevitable. It was best to end the night with a quick goodbye, like ripping off a Band-Aid, even if it did make me feel like a heartless prick.

As I got back into my SUV and drove away, I thought about my way out. It wasn't going to happen overnight. But once I got my contractor's license and started taking on clients, I hoped to be in a much different position in two years' time.

Until then, I'd definitely considered expanding. I was only one person, and there were dates I had to turn down because I was already booked. Eric, Timmy, and Finn, who I worked with now but had been friends with since middle school, were chomping at the bit to be a plus one for hire. The problem was, as much as I loved those guys, I didn't trust any of them not to cross professional lines.

Hell, I'd been tempted to cross them tonight. Not with Jenna. But Bailey. Bailey Bliss. Now that I knew her name, I was going to have to stop myself from going down a Google rabbit hole.

I'd been a heartbeat away from kissing her. If she hadn't sneezed and her sister hadn't opened the door, I would have. And I think she would have let me. If she had, I'm not sure what would have happened. I wanted to believe it would have stopped there, that I wouldn't have done anything to put my business or hers in jeopardy, but damn, I wasn't so sure. It had been so long since I'd been with anyone.

And that sneeze. I'd heard her sister question her about that sneeze. From what I gathered, it was something that happened when Bailey was attracted to someone. I doubted that was the case; it was probably an inside joke.

Either way, I was pretty sure she felt what I had. It had been a long time since I'd felt the way I did about her. That level of primal attraction. Of connection. Lindsay was the only person who even came close, and I'd met her when I was twelve.

That's what Bailey made me feel like. She made me feel like a kid again. Like a lovesick teenager. I'm not sure that was the right thing to be looking for at my age. At least not with the responsibilities I had.

The drive home, across the city, was uneventful. I made it in less than fifteen minutes and parked in the garage around the back of the building. When I walked around to go into the front of the building, I saw Arthur sitting on his fire escape, smoking a cigar.

"Lookin' good, son!" He called down to me.

"It's the suit!" I shouted back as I opened the front door to the building.

He gave me his signature thumbs-up. The first time I'd worn one of Arthur's suits was for Peter's funeral. I was eighteen at the time, and it had been a little baggy on me. But over the past six years, I'd filled out, and now his suits fit me like a glove.

Besides being appropriate for the occasions I wore them, Arthur's suits made it easier to get into character as Cole. Which reminded me, I'd introduced myself to Bailey as CJ. In the two years I'd been doing this, I'd never slipped.

I took all nine flights of stairs, two at a time. I had a ton of excess energy that I needed to burn off if I had even a chance of sleeping tonight. I was a little out of breath when I walked inside the apartment and found Carly on the couch, which was technically my bed. It was late; I'd thought for sure everyone would be asleep.

Then I remembered that I was supposed to take her over to Riley's for the sleepover.

"Hey, Cardi B, you ready to go?"

She rolled her eyes at the nickname as she took her AirPods out of her ears and shut her computer. "Go?"

"To Riley's."

She shook her head. "I'm not going."

"Why not?"

"I got in a fight with Mom, and I don't feel like going over to Riley's perfect house with her perfect siblings, and her perfect parents, and her perfect dogs."

Fuck. I remember feeling that way about my friends' houses when I was in the system, or couch surfing. It always made me feel like shit that their lives were ‘perfect' and mine was a pile of horse shit. I hated that my niece felt the same way I had.

"What did you and your mom fight about?" Sara and Carly rarely fought. I braced myself for something serious. She was only eleven, but nowadays, that didn't mean anything. Eleven-year-olds had the internet at their fingertips. Not to mention the drugs that were around now. I wasn't much older than Carly, but in the time since I was her age, so much had changed.

"Mom signed me up for the stupid big sister program. I don't need a big sister. I'm not a baby."

Big Sister program. Okay, that was a crisis I could manage.

I held up my finger. "Hold that thought."

She nodded as I walked into the bathroom and got out of Arthur's suit. I hung it up and put it in a dry-cleaning bag. Even though he'd technically given me his wardrobe, I still always got everything cleaned right away, just in case he changed his mind and wanted his clothes back.

After throwing on some sweats and a T-shirt, I checked on Sara, who slept in a nook off the hall that I'd converted into a makeshift bedroom. It was only big enough to hold a twin bed, but at least it gave her some privacy. She was sound asleep. Next, I peeked in on the twins, who were also out for the count in the bunk beds I'd built them. Before heading back into the front room, I detoured into the kitchen and grabbed a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream and two spoons.

A YouTube video was playing on the TV as I sat down beside Carly on the couch and handed her a spoon.

"Uncle CJ, I don't need a big sister. It's so stupid. I want to do cheer, not go hang out with some millennial."

"Hey." I pretended to take offense.

"What? You're Gen Z, like me."

I felt like a baby boomer, but that wasn't the point. "I thought you were Gen Alpha."

"I'm on the cusp," she explained as if it were the fiftieth time she'd told me. "I don't need a stupid mentor. You have to tell her I'm not doing it."

As much as I could see where Carly was coming from, I knew that my sister's heart was in the right place. Between being sick and the twins, Sara didn't have a lot of time left over for Carly. She felt guilty for that. This was her way of making sure Carly had what she needed.

"Look, just meet her. Hang out with her. If you hate her, if she's wiggida wiggida wiggida wack, I'll talk to your mom, and you don't have to see her again."

Carly's eyes rolled so far in the back of her head that I wondered if they were going to do a full three-sixty rotation. Most pre-teen eye rolls were probably viewed as negative, but I knew that the gesture meant my niece was relenting; she just wasn't happy about it.

"Fine." She dramatically exhaled. "I'll go. But only if you promise never to say wiggida wiggida wiggida wack again."

"Not a fan of Kriss Kross?"

"What's criss cross?"

Kriss Kross was a teen RB/rap duo that was even before my day, but Lindsay had loved the movie Friends with Benefits, and Justin Timberlake and Mila Kunis had a scene where the song "Jump" was featured. In the scene, Timberlake raps the song and dances around the bed. I used to always do his part whenever it came on. I used to be fun.

"Doesn't matter." I held out my pinky to Carly. "I pinky promise those words will never leave my mouth again."

Reluctantly, she took my offered little finger, even though I could tell she thought she was getting too old for our ritual promise-keeping.

"And you never know—maybe she'll be dope." I dipped my spoon in the carton.

"Dope?"

"Yep. Dope."

"Why do you have to be so cringe?" Carly grabbed her computer and headed off to her room.

As I watched her go, I knew this was just the beginning. She would be twelve in a few months, and before I knew it, she'd be a teenager. After that, it would be the twins' turn.

Carly needed me. The twins needed me. My sister needed me.

They would always be my priority. It didn't matter how I felt about the green-eyed, golden-haired goddess in black slacks and a sleeveless turtleneck that hugged her curves and made me sweat; it wouldn't be fair to ask someone to understand that they would come first. Always.