“I want you to be happy. To be with someone who makes you happy without having to work at it.” She shoved a hot mug of coffee my way. “You’re going to have an epic love story. I’ve known that since before you were born.”
Cue the eye roll. “No, Mom. Not with that story again.”
“Fine.” She laughed, poured a hearty dose of Baileys into her coffee, then mine. “But it’s true. Your grandfather knew it. I know it. Your soulmate is out there, and when the time is right, you’ll know.”
Relieving mom of her drink and anymore uncomfortable truths, I pulled her into a hug and whispered into her hair, “Thanks, Mom. I love you.”
“Love you more.”
“I’m gonna say my goodbyes and head to Ellis and Lacey’s.”
A full glass of Glenfiddich sat untouched in Martin’s empty spot at the table.
Cigar smoke poisoned the air.
Unwanted memories stifled the mood.
Ellis, unusually quiet, couldn’t keep his eyes off the door.
Upstairs, Natalie and Lacey laughed, and danced by the sounds of their footsteps and the low bass thumping through the floorboards overhead. I envied their joy.
Martin wasn’t at the table, but his presence was stifling, choking all pleasure from the game.
Ellis was the first to state the obvious. “This feels like a betrayal. Playing without him.”
“Betrayal?” I huffed. “Shitty choice of words.”
“Sorry.” He slammed his cards on the table. Scraped his fingers over his scalp. “Fuck.”
“I think we should bury this tradition along with Martin.” The words tasted sour. So I snatched the tumbler we’d filled for our dead friend, downed half the glass, the burn exquisite, then shoved the remainder Ellis’s way.
Eyes liquid, he stared at the whiskey. His throat moved. He took the drink, his glare dark and tortured, swallowed the rest of the amber liquid, and then threw the glass against the wall, the shatter unsatisfying.
Ellis pushed from the table and paced the small room, hands to hips.
One by one, carefully constructed walls of ice shielded my battered psyche.
“I loved him. But he doesn’t deserve to be here. Doesn’t deserve a place of honor at our table. Not after what he did to you.”
Stone still, guarded, I allowed Ellis his release.
“I was stupid to think we could do this.” He stopped in front of me. Crossed his arms. “I’m sorry, brother.”
My chest caved, but through that wall of ice, I mumbled, “Me, too.” And I meant those words. “I’ve been caught up in my own shit. I haven’t considered your suffering. I’ve been a shitty friend, and I’m sorry.”
He moved around the table, poured two more shots. “To new traditions?”
We raised our glasses.
It hit me then that any new traditions would include Lacey. As they should. Envy embittered my already sour mood. I wanted what they had. “New traditions,” I acquiesced, downing my drink in one swallow. Fighting the urge to hit something, I said, “Besides, you suck at poker anyway.”
Ellis only laughed. “Maybe we should join the ladies.”
The ladies. God, I’d been itching to see Natalie’s sweet face all night.
We headed upstairs, leaving the smoky basement and Martin’s ghost behind.
Natalie and Lacey sat on the floor on opposite sides of the coffee table, a display of ridiculously large cards on the table between them. The baby slept bundled in a Seahawks blanket on the couch, down for the count.
“Go fish!” Natalie threw her arms up and then pointed at Lacey, wiggling in a happy dance, her red glasses falling down her nose. The air seemed thinner, and I forced slow breaths. In—one, two, three, four. Out—one, two, three, four. I reached into my pocket for the gold that was no longer there, my agitation rising again. But I focused on Natalie, the silver in her eyes more precious than the metal I’d lost. The shy smile she flashed before looking away more soothing than my missing charm.
“What’s going on up here?” Ellis asked, curling up behind his wife.
“Go Fish,” Lacey said, arching her neck to kiss Ellis.
“It’s our Thanksgiving tradition,” Natalie threw in, righting her glasses. She scooted to the left. “Want to join us?”
Ellis and I exchanged glances. He shrugged, shooting me a why not? gesture.
“Sure,” I mumbled, thankful for the alcohol in my veins. I wouldn’t survive the evening without liquid aid to dull the jagged edges.
“Perfect.” Natalie clapped her hands together and hopped to her feet, snatching her wine glass. “I need a refill. Anyone else?”
“One more for me,” Lacey sang.
Ellis hugged his wife. “Water for me, please.”
“Cole?” she asked over her shoulder on her way to the kitchen.
“Yeah,” I answered on reflex, “I’ll have a drink.”
That cursed, invisible string between us tensed, drawing me closer, and I followed behind, focused on the sway of her hips. My balls tightened. Chest constricted. Hands curled into fists.
Unsettling how much I wanted this woman.
She stopped at the counter. Lifted a bottle to fill her glass.
Mind numb, body reacting to her witchery, I closed the distance between us and lifted the Barolo from her fingers, placing it out of reach.
Natalie turned.
I pinned her to the counter, my loafers bracing her bare feet. Hands to her cheeks, I ducked, claiming that sinful mouth, stealing her precious breath. Sweet and fruity. God, she tasted too good.
Her tense body softened. Her tongue met mine and, sweet hell, she kissed me back with all the softness I lacked.
My life hung in the balance. Natalie held the string.
Cold fingers found their way under my shirt, dancing along my heated skin before digging grooves down my ribcage. She rose on her toes like she wanted to climb my body.
Cupping her ass, I pulled her closer, ground my hips, and sucked on her tongue.
Natalie whimpered, fucking whimpered, going boneless in my arms, and I lost control, instinct taking over. My only conscious thought—burying myself in Natalie King.
My cell rang. I ignored the wretched tone.
Natalie pulled away. I
