Chapter 0005

Nicola Taylor

I slipped into the white ballerina dress for the fifth time, questioning if it was too much. Simple yet undeniably sexy, it revealed just enough cleavage and thigh to captivate a man's attention. Despite my attempts to deny it, I knew deep down I was dressing to impress Cole. I couldn't help but feel attracted to him, a fact that frustrated me to no end.

As I applied a touch of light lipstick, I glanced at myself in the mirror. Brown waves cascaded over my shoulders, my makeup was subtle yet enhancing, and the dress hugged my curves in all the right places.

"Oh god, this is too much," I muttered to myself, contemplating whether to change yet again.

Just then, the doorbell rang. I cursed under my breath. Heat rushed to my face as I headed to the door, hoping Cole would appreciate the effort and not think I was overdressed.

My breath caught in my chest as he stood there, the pink and red flowers contrasting beautifully against his navy suit. I smiled nervously, cheeks flushing as I took the flowers and invited him inside. The intimacy of my small house felt suddenly pronounced, but I pushed the thought aside.

As I retrieved a vase from the cabinet in the kitchen, I heard his footsteps approaching from behind. My heart raced as his hands found its place on my waist. I continued filling the vase with water, trying to focus, but his touch sent a thrill through me. His hands smoothed over my dress, his touch lingering on my hips and waist, igniting a fire within me.

"Thank you. They are very beautiful," I managed to say breathlessly, turning around to face him immediately causing my soft chest to collide with his hard one. Our bodies pressed together, and I couldn't ignore the magnetic pull between us.

"I thought you'd like them," he murmured, stepping closer until my back met the counter, effectively trapping me.

"So what are you going to make?" I asked, hoping to distract him, but his hands on either side of me prevented any escape. His presence was overwhelming, his closeness stirring a desire that I struggled to contain.

“Chicken Parmesan and Linguine.” He tells me as he steps away making me inwardly upset but I composed myself.

Don’t be a hoe, Nicola.

“That sounds delicious,” I said as he started unpacking the groceries he brought to cook. “Where are your wine glasses?”

“Wine? We’re drinking wine? I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I stuttered nervously, making him laugh as he found the wine glasses and poured us each a glass.

“Relax, I won’t take advantage of you,” he reassured me, but I could only muster a fake smile.

I was more concerned about my inner desires betraying me. I hadn’t had proper sex in four years. The last two years of my relationship with my ex were so bad that I felt like I had become more of a mother to him than a partner.

“I know. It’s just that we’re going to talk about something important. I don’t want to be inebriated for that,” I said, taking a cautious sip of the wine. Oh god, this is the most delicious wine ever. I couldn’t imagine how expensive it must be.

“Do you need help finding anything?” I asked as I watched him navigate through my kitchen with surprising ease. To be fair, it was fairly small, and where most of the stuff was pretty easy to guess.

“I’m good. You can sit back and relax. Also, feel free to start asking me questions if you have any,” he said as he took off his blazer and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, making my throat run dry at the sight.

I couldn’t believe the man who every girl in my school thirsted over was in my kitchen, making food for me.

“What makes you think I can forget all the things you put me through in high school and marry my bully?” I asked, continuously sipping on my wine.

“I agree. What I did was unforgivable. I am sorry, and I know sorry isn’t enough, but I would like a chance to redeem myself,” he said, his voice steady as he began cooking.

His words hung in the air as I watched him work, the sincerity in his tone making it hard for me to hold onto my anger.

“I’m not the same person I was back then, Nicola. Life has changed me. Arabella has changed me. I want to be a better man, for my daughter ,” he continued, glancing up at me with those piercing green eyes.

I took another sip of wine, feeling the warmth spread through my body. “It’s not that simple, Cole. You can’t just undo the past with a few words and a nice dinner.”

“I know. But I’m willing to work at it. Give me a chance to show you,” he said, his gaze never leaving mine.

My heart raced as I considered his words. Could I really let go of the past and give him a chance? The tension between us was palpable, and despite everything, a part of me wanted to believe him.

“Fine,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “One chance. But don’t think for a second that it’s going to be easy.”

A slow smile spread across his face as he nodded. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

“So, hypothetically, if I were to say yes to your proposal, how would the arrangement be between us and between Arabella and me? Is she even okay with having a mother figure in her life?” I asked, watching him cut vegetables with the ease of a professionally trained chef.

Where did he learn to cook?

“Okay,” he started, pausing to think about the questions I had thrown at him. “Firstly, I think you’ve seen how desperately Arabella needs a woman in her life. She was a different kid around you. If you say yes, I’ll run it by her then because I don’t want to break her heart if you say no. Secondly, I think your relationship with Arabella will depend on how you two grow towards each other. I don’t want to interfere there. Lastly, between us, it will be whatever you want it to be.” He smiled, and it was a smile that melted my heart.

Why is he so handsome?

“What if she doesn’t want me in her life? What if she can’t accept me?”

“She already adores you,” he replied, his voice soft yet confident. “But sadly she doesn’t remember her mother so I don’t think she is that sensitive about me getting married again.”

His honesty caught me off guard. I had expected him to want me to make sure I didn’t take his late wife’s place, but it seemed like his primary concern was Arabella’s happiness. “I would love to help you out, I really would. But you’re asking for too much here. I cannot marry a man who is clearly still in love with his late wife,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Why do you think I’m still hung up on….her?” he asked, confusion evident in his voice.

“You still wear your wedding ring, her photos and belongings are in your bedroom,” I pointed out, seeing I had already hit a nerve. “I’m sorry, but you seem heartbroken.”

“I’m not—alright. It’s just, I met her in college and thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with her. I guess it still comes as a shock to me, even after five years. I’m lost. I don’t know what to do. I had a plan, but nothing went according to it. So I guess it just feels like I’m stuck in one place. There are moments when I’m happy because of my daughter and, honestly, even talking to you seems nice. But I don’t think I have it in me to fall in love again. I don’t want to go out on dates and do it all over again. What if she doesn’t like Arabella? What if she gets tired of having a kid around? I know it’s terribly selfish, but I’d rather just get married to someone my daughter likes,” he confessed, huffing like a huge weight was lifted off his head.

“I know what you mean. I understand. I dated a man for seven years, supported him through medical school only for him to leave me for a hot twenty-two-year-old grad student as soon as he became a doctor. I haven’t dated anyone for two years, and after wasting seven years of my life, I don’t see the point either. But I don’t think I can marry a man who will always be in love with his late wife. I know there is never going to be a place in your heart for me. Even if there is, it won’t be above her. I hope you understand,” I told him as he put the food in the oven, closing it slowly as my words sank in.

“I understand. There’s no reason we can’t enjoy a nice dinner,” he said with a sad smile, and I knew he was thinking of his daughter.

“I don’t mind coming by once a week for some time to help you out,” I offered, but he just shook his head.

“I think it would just break her heart when you eventually have to stop coming. It’s fine. It was very unrealistic anyway,” he said, trying to make me feel better.

But I felt horrible. I wished I could help him out somehow. I had never seen a sadder person. I could see how difficult it was for him to smile, yet he did it anyway. I couldn’t imagine finding the love of my life, only to have it taken away from me tragically.

As we sat down to eat, the tension between us remained. We made small talk, but my mind kept drifting back to the sadness in his eyes. The way he looked at me, as if I were the key to unlocking a happiness he thought he’d lost forever, made my heart ache.

I tried to lighten the mood, telling him funny stories about my students and my mishaps as a kindergarten teacher. He laughed but his heart wasn’t in it.