Coda Books 04 - Strawberries for Dessert (MM)

less painful.
    I drove home in a bit of a daze. I was trying to convince myself that the knot of trepidation in my stomach was unwarranted. Maybe Vegas wouldn’t be so bad. I had spent a lot of time there over the past few years. I knew my way around, to some extent at least. I knew where to eat, but the restaurants were all overpriced, and I liked Cole’s cooking better. I knew where to shop, even though I hated to do it. And I knew where to go when I wanted to get laid. Although right at that moment, I had absolutely no desire to go to any of those places ever again.
    I didn’t know what to tell Cole. And more importantly, I had no idea how he would react. He might be upset. He might offer to visit—it wasn’t as if he couldn’t afford it—and I would become nothing more than another “friend” in his travels. On the other hand, it was equally possible he would cut me loose and find somebody to take my place without a second thought. I wasn’t sure how I would handle it if that were the case.
    Despite his words on the phone, I wasn’t surprised to find Cole’s car in my driveway when I got home. I found him in the kitchen of course, chopping vegetables, barefoot like always. I had been thinking about him nonstop for days, yet my pleasure at seeing him was tainted by the dread I felt over having to leave Phoenix in the near future.
    “Not so busy after all, I see,” I said as I wrapped my arms around him from behind. He was stiff in my arms, but he didn’t pull away.
    “I decided I could squeeze you in.”
    I ran my hand down his stomach to his groin and kissed the butterfly on the back of his neck. “I sure hope there’s some secondary meaning to those words,” I said, and he laughed.
    “It’s possible.” He finally pushed me away, like he always did.
    “After dinner.”
    I left him to cook while I showered and unpacked. There was a bottle of his strawberry shampoo in my shower, and it made me smile. I actually took the lid off and smelled it, just because it made me happy to do it. Then I remembered my conversation with Marcus, and my heart sank.
    Coming out of the shower, I was met by the smell of what I suspected was étouffée. It was one of Cole’s favorites, and I knew that meant a Rioja Crianza to drink. I followed my nose into the kitchen and discovered that I was right. The wine was already open. I resisted the urge to kiss him again as I passed. I poured a glass and took it with me back into the bedroom to finish unpacking.
    I was halfway through the glass before it occurred to me that it was a Spanish red—Zach’s favorite. I waited for the pain to come and the regret. I steeled myself for the melancholy that always followed.
    But this time….
    It didn’t.
    It was a surprise to me to realize that the tiny sense of loss that had come with the thought of Zach for ten years now was gone at last.
    There was nothing but fond remembrance in its place. I had spent so many years of my life looking back at what might have been, but now I realized that I no longer cared. It was like an epiphany. A revelation.
    An overwhelming feeling of liberation that almost made me giddy.
    I truly felt like I was home. And it felt so good, having Cole there with me. It felt right .
    And then like a punch in the gut came the realization that it couldn’t last. That sometime in the near future, I would be moving out of the state. What would happen then?
    “Good lord,” Cole called from the other room. “Are you coming out, or are you going to make me eat alone?”
    He couldn’t ever just tell me it was ready. He always had to turn it around and make it sounds as if I should have known, and I couldn’t help but smile. “I’m a little busy,” I teased.
    “That’s fine, love. More for me.”
    Of course I wasn’t busy at all, and I went into the dining room to join him. The food was amazing, like it always was, and I thought about the first time he had made me étouffée at my condo in Vegas. It was a warm memory for me. But on its tail came the realization that I would be moving there for good, very soon.
    And he wouldn’t be there.
    “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong,” he asked, startling me out of my thoughts, “or are you just going to sit there and stew all night?”
    And even when he was scolding me like I was a petulant child, it made me smile. “Am I that transparent?” I asked.
    “Like crystal.”
    I debated for a moment how to tell him, but in the end, there weren’t