Chapter Nineteen

Truly sneezed herself awake.

Colin was already propped up against the pillows, awake and staring down at her, an amused smile on his face. "Bless you."

She buried her face in his pillow with a groan. Feather pillows, no wonder she'd sneezed. "What time is it?"

"Just after seven."

"In the morning?"

Colin chuckled at her obvious disgust. "Nah, you slept for eighteen hours. Welcome back to the land of the living."

It was too early for sarcasm. "Don't tell me you're a morning person. I don't know if I can date a morning person."

"Alas, I am one of those people. The pitfalls of holding down a nine-to-five."

Funny. "You aren't working today." She smothered a yawn. "Go back to bed, you weirdo."

"Can't," he said, sounding downright chipper. Annoyingly chipper. If she weren't so stupidly fond of him, she'd push him onto the floor.

She was a brunch person at best, a happy-hour person, a stay-up-until-three-in-the-morning-finishing-this-chapter person, a just-one-more-page person. She was not built to watch the sun rise.

"What do you mean you can't?" This was already more words strung together consecutively than she'd spoken in years before at least nine in the morning. "Just close your eyes. Sleep."

Colin laughed and she really was gone on him because the sound didn't make her want to hit him with a pillow, but it did make her feel warm. She burrowed deeper beneath his duvet, tugging it up over her chin.

"Sleep," she repeated, shutting her eyes. "'s easy."

Something warm and soft landed against the tip of her nose. She screwed up her face, opening her eyes as Colin sat back, laughing at her.

"Did you just kiss my nose?"

"You happen to have a very kissable nose, St. James."

How was she supposed to stay grouchy when he was being so sweet? "You better make this early wake-up call worth my while, McCrory."

"Or else?"

She snagged a spare pillow and whacked him with it, missing his head, but hitting his arm.

Colin laughed. "You're a violent little thing before you've had your coffee, aren't you? Good to know."

"'m not little," she said, not bothering to refute the violent part.

He threw her weapon of choice down to the floor and slipped beneath the sheets until they were eye to eye. "Littler than me, shrimp."

"I like you, McCrory, but you're hardly Shaquille O'Neal."

"Ouch, you really are grouchy before you've had your coffee." He grinned. "And I am a perfectly average five foot nine."

"You're five eight," she argued. "I saw it on your driver's license when the bartender carded you that night we went out with your sister."

That startled a laugh from him. "Snoop."

"It was right in front of me."

"Uh-huh." He kissed her nose again, earning a giggle this time. "I see, caffeine and kisses are the way to your heart in the morning. Good to know."

"Caffeine's better."

He flopped onto his back and mimed shoving a dagger into his heart, really hamming it up, tongue lolling from the corner of his mouth and everything. She giggled harder.

"You're lethal to a man's ego." He rolled back over and grinned, the epitome of a morning person. Either that, or he was just like this after he got laid. She required more evidence, a larger sample of mornings spent with him to draw a conclusion. "If kisses won't do the trick, what do you say to coffee and pancakes?"

She'd never say no to coffee and pancakes. If she were one day to be held hostage and could only tweet in code for help, she'd definitely say something like I hate pancakes and coffee and kisses from Colin McCrory.

"With maple syrup?"

"Obviously."

"Well, if there's maple syrup, I suppose I could be convinced." She kicked off the covers.

"Hold on." He rested a hand on her now bare hip—she'd borrowed a shirt to sleep in, but pants weren't something she ever wore to bed—keeping her from sitting. "Don't I at least get a good morning kiss?"

She screwed up her face. "I have morning breath."

"So do I. Besides"—his hand drifted, cupping her ass and dragging her closer until they were chest to chest and she was tucked against him—"you kissed me with a mouthful of my come last night. I think we're past the point of being worried about morning breath."

She buried her face against his shoulder, hiding her blush. "Colin."

"Grumpy and bashful in the mornings?" He laughed. "Any other personalities I need to know about?" He laughed harder. "Hey, you've got Sleepy and Sneezy covered, too, don't you?"

She burrowed deeper into his shoulder. "Careful, Snow White, or I'll be the one calling you princess from now on."

"Nah, obviously I'm Happy." Colin tapped her on the ass. "Let's go get some coffee in you, hm, Grumpy?"

"Wait." She grabbed his arm before he could roll out of bed. "If you really don't have a problem with morning breath..."

He rolled his eyes and reached for her chin, tipping her face up so he could press a soft, sweet kiss against her mouth.

"Good morning." He smiled against her lips. "You sleep well?"

"The sleep I got was great."

"Note to self." Colin threw his legs over the side of the bed. "Don't wake Truly up before..."

"Ten?"

"That's half the day," he argued, making his way across the room dressed in only his briefs. He opened the top drawer of his dresser and pulled out a pair of sweats.

"What time do you wake up?"

He slipped the sweats over his ass. "Five, most days."

She tripped. "Five? Every day?"

Colin crossed the room and kissed the space between her brows. "Look at it this way, by the time you wake up, I'll already have breakfast made."

Now that sounded like a match made in heaven.

Dressed and looking as presentable as she could after a night of debauchery, Truly followed Colin down the stairs. Colin paused to quietly point out with his finger pressed against his lips the room at the top of the stairs that was his parents', the door still closed.

They didn't speak until they were in the kitchen.

"Are you sure it's okay we eat here? I don't want your parents to—"

"It's fine." Colin hit the start button on the coffeepot, then opened the fridge and began setting ingredients on the counter. Eggs, milk, butter. "They're not exactly early risers. And besides, we're having breakfast. I'm hardly fucking you on the counter."

"Don't give me ideas." She braced her palms against said counter and took a seat on the granite.

"Keep it in your pants, St. James." He pressed the carton of eggs into her hands along with a mixing bowl. "Do me a favor and crack eight of these."

The smell of melting butter and freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen and not long after, Colin approached holding a plate stacked with more pancakes than she could possibly eat.

"Say when." He upended a bottle of maple syrup over the plate.

"That's... more... okay, that's good."

Colin grabbed a fork from the counter and cut off a wedge of thick, fluffy pancake swimming in syrup. "Open."

Her face went hot, flashing back to saying the same thing to him last night in a very different context.

She set her mug aside. "You're going to feed me?"

He lifted the fork to her lips. "You got a problem with that?"

She opened and let Colin feed her little bite-size forkfuls of syrup-drenched pancake. She chewed and swallowed, wiggling against the counter.

"Good?" he asked, eyes creased with silent laughter.

"So good," she praised, mouth watering.

He speared another forkful of pancake. "Bite?"

She opened, accepting the offering.

For every two bites he fed her, Colin took one, until she'd eaten her fill, after which he polished off the enormous stack. He was rinsing the dishes and she was loading them into the dishwasher when his mother stepped into the kitchen.

"Good morning, Colin. You didn't tell me you were back. And Truly." She smiled. "You're here early." Her smile faltered, taking in Colin's sweats and her borrowed shirt, undoubtedly. "Or was it a late night?"

Truly's cheeks burned, and she looked to Colin for guidance.

"Truly stayed over," he said, rinsing the spatula before handing it to her to set inside the washer. "That a problem?"

"Of course not." Muffy McCrory smoothed the skirt of her sundress. "I only wish I'd have known we were having company. I'd have set out fresh towels in the guest bath for Truly."

"Oh, that's—"

"Unnecessary," he said, closing the dishwasher with his hip. "Truly stayed in my room."

Muffy cleared her throat. "Do you think I could steal you for a moment, Colin?"

"For?"

Muffy's gaze darted to and away from Truly. "There was just something I wanted to discuss. Privately."

Truly inched in the direction of the door. "I'm happy to step out—"

"No, stay." He held out a hand.

Muffy sighed. "You're making your guest uncomfortable."

"He's not making me uncomfortable. I just don't want to intrude—"

"You're not," Colin assured her. "And she's not a guest, Ma. She's Truly. And we have plans today."

An embellishment. At some point, Colin had to drive back to the city; until then the vague plan was, since last night had gone so well, they'd spend the day at hers.

Muffy's brows rose. "Is your phone working?"

He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. "As far as I know."

"Then why haven't you returned my calls? I left you a voicemail and so did your father." Muffy reached inside the refrigerator and withdrew a pitcher of green juice. "You left the other night before we could talk."

"I didn't have anything to say that I haven't said a dozen times already."

Muffy huffed. "Colin, what is it going to take for you to let bygones be bygones?"

He straightened. "Maybe I don't want to let bygones be bygones. You ever think about that? And if I did? If I was open to it? It wouldn't hurt if you and Dad and everyone else in the family acknowledged that what Caleb did is shitty."

"Your brother and Ali are perfect for each other," Muffy said. "Are you really going to begrudge him his happiness?"

It was like watching Colin talk to a brick wall and it pissed her off like no other. If it weren't for the fact that he was speaking to his mother, she'd have stepped in. But since it was his mother, she scooted closer and rested her hand on his arm instead. Reminding him that she was there and on his side.

"No, I'm not begrudging my brother his happiness, and the fact that you'd even ask me that proves my point." Colin ran his fingers through his hair and Truly gripped his arm a little tighter. "Three years, Ma. I dated Ali for three years, and five days after she breaks up with me, I walk into her place to pick up a box of my stuff and I find my brother in her kitchen, in nothing but his boxers, drinking coffee out of the mug that used to be mine. It's not just what he did, it's how he did it and the fact that he refuses to acknowledge it was an asshole move. No one except Caitie wants to acknowledge it was low, okay?"

"You were broken up," Muffy had the gall to argue. "And you and Ali weren't right for each other, but she and Caleb—"

"I think Colin just wants you to acknowledge that his feelings are valid," Truly said, pulse racing, the hand not wrapped around Colin's biceps fisted at her side. "And if he doesn't want to talk to or about his brother, I think that's his prerogative."

Muffy straightened, lips pursing. "No offense, Truly, you seem like a nice girl, but this is a family matter. It's really not your business."

Gee, if Truly had a quarter for every time she'd heard that in the last two days, she'd... well, she'd only have two quarters. But it was still weird and it would probably be a long time before she could hear the words not your business without the phrase putting a terrible taste in her mouth.

"No, Truly's right," he said, resting his chin atop the crown of her head. "I told you I was willing to play nice on holidays and special occasions."

Which was generous, as far as she was concerned. But again, not her business.

"And does this not count as a special occasion? Your only brother is having a baby, your first niece or nephew. Do you really want to look back in twenty years and regret the fact that you missed out on so many family memories because of a silly grudge?"

A silly grudge? Un-fucking-believable.

"Truly and I've got places to be, Ma." He grabbed her hand, tangling her fingers with his. "I'm happy to talk to you some other time, provided it's not about Caleb."

***

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Truly. Baby? That's the fifth time you've asked me since we left." He laughed. "I'm good. Promise."

It was only four times, but who was counting?

"It was shitty, okay? What she said. If she weren't your mother I'd have—"

She sighed, biting back words better left unsaid.

"You'd have what?"

She shook her head. "You don't talk about someone's mother unless you're ready to throw hands."

"Throw hands?" Colin laughed. "Things get real nasty over in Laurelhurst?"

Truly fished her keys from her back pocket, not sure if Mom and Dad had locked the back door. "That's, like, a universal cross-class truism and you know it."

No sooner had she stepped inside, did she trip over a—a suitcase? What the hell was that doing there?

She sidestepped the luggage, leaving the door open for Colin. "Mom? Dad?"

"Buttercup, hi." Dad poked his head out of the kitchen. "And Colin, too." He grinned and stepped around the island. "It's good to see you again, kid. And look! In your own pants this time."

Colin gripped the back of his neck and smiled sheepishly. "Good to see you, too."

"Dad, what's your suitcase doing out here? I almost took myself out on it."

He winced. "Sorry. I wasn't expecting you home for at least another hour."

"Colin's one of those gross morning people."

Colin laughed. "Guilty."

"The suitcase, Dad?" she prompted.

Dad hesitated and her stomach plummeted.

Colin cleared his throat. "I'm going to step out for a minute and check in with Caitie. I think I might've missed a call from her."

Bullshit, she wanted to call, just like she wanted to reach for his hand and ask him to stay.

She held her tongue and stayed her hand, staring at Dad, who watched them with a soft, nearly forlorn expression.

Colin's hand ghosted over her back and his lips pressed a kiss atop her head.

With that, he slipped out the back door.

"I like him," Dad mused. "He seems like a good kid. And he makes you smile. You were so serious when you were dating Justin."

"I like him, too. A lot." She crossed her arms. "But that doesn't mean you get to change the subject."

Dad rubbed his brow. "Truly, your mother decided to cut the trip short. She's already on her way back home."

Those fluffy, perfect pancakes Colin had made for her turned to lead in her gut.

"What? No. I know she was upset, but—but last night was good. You two were getting along. We had fun."

"It was a great night," Dad agreed, and if she wasn't totally mistaken, he sounded wistful.

"But?"

"But you tricked us, Truly. And while I can see the humor in it all and even appreciate your... ingenuity, your mother's a bit of a tougher sell. You didn't get your stubbornness from me, after all."

"Pride goeth before the fall," she muttered. "So, that's it? You're going to go back to the city and go back to not talking? Taking time apart?"

"Pumpkin—"

"You know, I always thought you and Mom had the perfect relationship, the kind I dreamed of having one day. I mean, God, you never even fought." Her laugh verged on hysterical.

Dad's face fell.

"No relationship is perfect," he said.

She scoffed. Tell her something she didn't know. "I kind of cottoned on to that." It had only taken her twenty-seven years and change. "Maybe you thought you were protecting me, keeping whatever problems have become oh so insurmountable behind closed doors. Maybe I only saw what you wanted me to see. I don't know. Maybe I only saw what I wanted." The specifics were neither here nor there. "But I know you, Dad. And I know you love Mom." She paused. She'd made a lot of assumptions about her parents, about their relationship. "Don't you?"

Dad couldn't have looked more winded than if she'd punched him in the gut. "Truly, I... whether I love your mother has never, ever been a question."

"Then what?" She crossed her arms, fists pressed snug against her ribs like a hug. "What could be so wrong that you can't fix it? Please, Dad. Just—just be honest with me."

Dad, always loud and larger than life, was disquietingly still. He looked small as he slumped against the island, small in a way Truly could never remember him looking before.

"Maybe..." he said. "Maybe love isn't enough, my dear."

A scoff bubbled up past her lips. "Bullshit."

Dad's eyes widened. "Truly—"

"No." She shook her head, vehement.

She'd be the first to admit that she'd had her fair share of misconceptions about love.

Her parents' marriage wasn't all sunshine and rainbows like she'd once thought.

And perfect relationships? Like unicorns, those didn't exist.

But love?

Love launched ships and started wars and inspired sonnets and drove people to madness. Love was heaven and hell, sin and redemption. It was as real to her as any other force of nature, hurricanes and earthquakes and lightning storms and meteor strikes. It fascinated her as much as it terrified her as much as it humbled her and—

She'd spent her whole life trying to put it into words, eighty thousand of them at a time.

Love had to be enough.

There was no point if it wasn't.

"Truly, sweetheart," Dad implored. "I do believe your heart was—is in the right place. And I think, deep down, your mother knows it, too. And that boy of yours? He's right. You, my lionhearted daughter, are brilliant and bold and have the biggest heart of anyone I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. And if I had even the smallest hand in that? My life's work is done."

Truly blinked back tears.

Dad reached out and set his hand on her shoulder. Truly let him. "That boy outside, he's a bright fellow. And it's plain to see he loves you. I don't know how anyone who knows you couldn't."

Her scoff came out wet and weak. She dragged her wrist under her eyes, mopping up stubborn tears that clung to her lashes and had yet to fall. "Don't be ridiculous. We've known each other a couple months. He doesn't love me."

"Sometimes that's all it takes," he said. "And before you ask me how I know... that boy outside?" Dad exhaled shakily and tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling and blinking hard. "He looks at you the way I look at your mother. It takes a sap to know one, Truly. And Colin? Maybe he doesn't even know it yet, but he is gone on you. Hook, line, and sinker. Call it a father's intuition, but I bet my bottom dollar he tells you inside a month. And Truly, my dearest, darlingest daughter? I look forward to the day I get to tell you I told you so."

Truly pinched her eyes shut and pressed her wrist against her lips, stifling a sob. She sucked in a greedy breath, air rasping past her lips. "So what? Say he does. What's the point? If you and Mom can't make it work..."

Her bottom lip wobbled. She bit down hard, staying it and the tears that threatened to spill over.

"You shine so bright, Broadway Baby," he said, and she had to stifle a sob at his use of her childhood nickname. "Your mother and I... I don't know when, but somewhere along the way, the two of us... we lost the plot. But don't let anyone, least of all us, dim your light."

"You lost the plot, Daddy?" She glared at him through a haze of tears. "Go find it."

Truly turned away, picking a spot on the floor to stare at, a dark knot in the hardwood, a blemish in an otherwise smooth board.

A few breaths later the front door shut with a soft click.

She pinched her eyes shut and pressed her wrist against her lips, stifling a sob, so, so tired of crying.

Several careful box breaths later, the back door opened, and Colin stepped inside.

"I heard your dad's car start. Is everything okay?"

She shook her head, too choked up to speak.

"Hey." Colin crossed the room, stopping in front of her and placing two fingers under her chin, tipping it up so she'd look at him. "Are you okay?"

In all of this, not once had Mom and Dad asked her how she felt. Whether she was all right. How she was coping with her world being rocked, with her cornerstone being cracked.

But Colin had.

How are you coping?

Do you have someone to talk to?

Seriously—do you want to talk about it?

From the very beginning, long before they'd so much as kissed, from his words to his actions, Colin had let her know he cared. Even when he'd questioned her methods, he'd never once cut her down or called her motivations into question. He'd only ever expressed that he didn't want to see her hurt.

His hands swept up and down her back, shushing her softly because—God, she was crying, the tears she'd tried so hard to choke down spilling down her cheeks and soaking into his shirt.

"You're going to be okay," he murmured, and she clung to him a little tighter, fisting his shirt in her fingers. He sounded so sure.

She wished she could say the same.