Saylor considered waiting for him—he did say he would be right back. But if that was the case, why did he leave the mall just to take a phone call?
She knew exactly why.
Her heart had been wounded enough. Her throat closed. She couldn’t believe she’d fallen for it again. Mortified, she slipped into her own coat, tossed her steamer into the garbage, and buried her face into her collar before heading toward the exit at the mall’s opposite end.
Chapter Four
Cole tried to ignore the name on his screen, but it was one he hadn’t seen in so long he couldn’t help being distracted by it. Still, he pushed the phone aside, keeping his attention on Saylor.
Until it buzzed again.
And again.
Brooke. What was she doing calling him at all, let alone tonight? They hadn’t spoken since the divorce was finalized over a year ago. In fact, he hadn’t even seen her since then, and so much the better.
Cole snuck out into the cacophony of the emptying mall, donning his jacket before heading out into the wintry night. This was a conversation he wanted exactly no one to overhear.
The brisk wind whipped his cheeks. He turned up his collar against it, tucked into the alcove beside the mall entrance, and answered the fourth call Brooke had made in the last ten minutes.
“Hello?”
“You are there.” Her voice was far too enthusiastic. “For a minute, I thought you were ignoring me.” She cackled as though the concept was unthinkable.
“I was.”
“Come on, aren’t you the least bit curious why I’m calling?”
He had to give her that much. After their ardent and hasty dating period, he and Brooke had rushed into matrimony before finding out what they were really getting themselves into. It had been clear enough the passion was there, but other issues had quickly doused that fire.
Brooke had been controlling and unappreciative. She’d begun to nag him for insignificant things, like replacing the toilet paper roll with the sheets pointed in the wrong direction, or loading utensils in the dishwasher with the handles sticking out instead of the prongs and spoon. Cole had done his best to change, to please her, but it had never been enough. Soon her dissatisfaction had turned to insults.
It had been the final straw for him—for them both—when she’d revealed her refusal to have children. This refusal hadn’t been a wishy washy, ho hum uncertainty about kids. It had been a fervent, condescending denial.
“Do you know what that will do to my body?” she’d exclaimed. “Not to mention my social life.”
Cole had realized it would never work. In that moment, he’d grasped the sole, underlying problem at the heart of all of their disagreements.
The word my.
Everything was always about her. Her life. Her body. Her way. Never theirs.
After all Cole had done and changed about himself and the way he did things to try and please her, she couldn’t—wouldn’t—do the same for him. And he’d always wanted kids.
Brooke had agreed all too readily at his mention of divorce, and the papers had been signed before the year was out.
Cole peered back at the couple exiting the mall, part of him praying it was Saylor searching for him. He couldn’t shake how rapidly her sad expression in The Cocoa Bean had transformed into delight when she’d realized who he was. He left what was becoming a gripping conversation with her for this?
“What do you want, Brooke?”
“I was just thinking of you. I always think of you on Christmas Eve.”
Cole clenched his fists. “You’re kidding, right?” Their last argument about children had taken place on Christmas Eve exactly two years ago. Either she didn’t remember, or she didn’t care.
Probably the latter.
“You remember what happened, right?”
“Yeah, I do, and I can’t help wondering if things could be different between us. Don’t you?”
“Not at all,” he lied.
The truth was, part of him missed her. He missed the Brooke he’d fallen in love with, the fun-loving Brooke, the amicable one who rolled with the punches, who was sweet and had adored him in return.
“Well, I do,” she said, unruffled. “And I was just wondering, if you’re not busy tomorrow—”
His chest compressed. He didn’t want this. He should hang up. Right now.
“—if I could come and—”
He lowered the phone. His mind scraped for an excuse.
“—see my cat.”
Cole blinked, waking from some kind of retrospective daze. He’d thought the reason for her incessant calling had been an emergency. She needed help. She was in the hospital. She needed money. He couldn’t figure out any other reason why she would keep calling over and over in a few minutes’ time. But this was why she called him?
“Your cat? You made it clear you didn’t want him. I couldn’t just toss him out into the street. He’s mine.”
Too late, he realized he should have lied about this too. Told her Bubba Jones died.
“That doesn’t mean I don’t miss him during the holidays. And you, too,” she added.
Cole rubbed the incredulity from his forehead. He’d heard about enough, and worse, he’d left Saylor for far too long. For this. This pointless conversation.
“I’ve got to go. Merry Christmas.”
“Wait, don’t—”
“Goodbye, Brooke.” He ended the call, hoping she got the hint about the magnitude of his goodbye. Cole rushed back toward the blackened mall doors, but the handles didn’t give. He jerked a few more times, dread sinking in. Cupping his hands on the glass, he leaned close for a better look.
He wasn’t on the phone that long. Yet, security guards paced just inside, and the parking lot was emptier than when he’d first stepped out. When had they locked the doors? Or had they already been locked when he’d stepped out?
Cole tossed his head to the sky with a groan. Saylor. He walked out on Saylor, and now it was too late to find her again.
Chapter Five
“I must have seemed so desperate,” Saylor said to the empty car while her breath
