Nothing, nothing, nothing!

I felt tears prick my eyes as I wondered how many times his mother had called him that.

Ashamed, I sucked in a huge breath, blinked back the tears, and drew up the strength to approach the kitchen, this time noisily. Acting like everything was fine, I handed off the dirty dishes and returned to the sitting room to engage in small talk with Marco about his job as a construction site manager.

I didn’t care if Cole ever saw me in a romantic light again. That ship had clearly sailed for him, and I couldn’t see how we’d have a future anyway given my track record with failed romances. But I was coming to care for this man and I couldn’t bear the thought that I had genuinely hurt him.

I had to make him see that all the crap I’d dealt to him that awful day came from a place that had absolutely nothing to do with him. I knew I needed to fix any damage I’d caused him, even if it meant revealing all the damage someone else had caused me.

CHAPTER 11

N ot long after overhearing Cole and Hannah in the kitchen, Cole made our excuses and we bade the couple and their young family good night. I walked in silence beside Cole in the darkening night toward the main Morningside Road.

“Is something wrong?” he said, bringing me out of my musings.

Looking up at him, I was confused to find concern in his eyes. It amazed me that he could spend this whole day with me when he thought so little of me.

I stopped on the quiet street and Cole halted too. “Why did you spend today with me?”

Now it was his turn to appear bewildered. “What are you talking about?”

“If I’ve discovered anything real about you, it’s that you’re pretty straightforward, so why do this today? Why spend time with me . . . ?”

After a moment’s contemplation he said, “Because you’re friends with my friends. We work in a close-knit environment. I thought we should try to put our differences behind us.”

“Does that mean that this whole day has been torture for you?”

“What?” He grimaced. “No. Today has been . . .” He looked almost frustrated. “You’re like two different people. It confuses the fuck out of me.”

“I’m not two different people, Cole. If you can stand to spend a little more time with me tonight, I’d like to talk to you about something.”

He studied me carefully, and I could see lots going on in those gorgeous eyes of his. “Okay,” he eventually said. “My place is five minutes away. We can talk there.”

I was so nervous on the walk to Cole’s I couldn’t speak at all. Thankfully he seemed to understand. He led us to a Victorian apartment building just off Bruntsfield Road. Once inside his flat on the second floor, I was distracted by its beautiful high ceilings and polished hardwood floors. Cole had furnished the flat in masculine dark woods, strong textures, and artwork that had obviously been carefully chosen. The living room had a gorgeous bay window dressed in heavy chocolate brown suede drapes to match the suede L-shaped sofa. There was an old Victorian fireplace in the center of the room. It was minimal and there were splashes of color in the cushions and rug, but none of it was deliberately coordinated. Everything had been chosen for comfort and function and yet somehow still worked stylishly in its period setting.

The place also smelled like Cole.

“Coffee?” he offered as I stood awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“Please. Milk, two sugars.”

He left to make it and I lowered myself to the edge of the sofa, my knee bouncing up and down with my jitters. I was about to lay myself bare to him.

I felt sick.

When Cole returned, the concern was back on his face as he took me in, shivering. He handed me a mug of hot coffee. “If you like I can start the fire.”

“Not if you’re warm.”

His answer was to start the fire for me.

I smiled gratefully at him as he took a seat in the armchair under the bay window.

“So, what do you need to talk about?”

Attempting to control my nerves, I took a deep breath and exhaled shakily. “That day I told you you were nothing . . .”

Annoyance flashed in his eyes. “Look, Shannon, we’ve been over that. It’s done. Let’s move on.”

“It’s not done,” I insisted. I was so scared at the thought of telling him about what I’d fled from in Glasgow, but at the same time I needed to open myself up to him if we were going to have any chance at real friendship. “For once I’m not going to be selfish with you. You deserve the truth even if I don’t want to tell it.”

Cole scooted forward on his seat, eyebrows drawn together. “Shannon, what’s this all about?”

“I’m not here to dump my problems on you. But I need to explain something about why I came to Edinburgh so you can understand why I said what I said to you and why, in the end, it really had nothing to do with you.”

When he waited patiently, I continued. “I’m not a judgmental person, Cole. Not really. In fact, I’ve been known to forgive people even when their actions are beyond the point of forgiveness. I’ve always accepted people for who they are, always believing there was something special in everyone, something that others couldn’t see. And every time I’ve done that with the men in my life I’ve been proven wrong and everyone else right.”

“Shortcake, I’m not following.”

“I’m a bad-boy magnet,” I said with no humor, because as silly as it sounded out loud it was true. “A player magnet. To start there was a lead singer in a rock band who cheated on me, the biker who cheated on me, the secret drug dealer who stole from me, and my last boyfriend—the pièce de résistance. We were together for two years and his name was Ollie. He worked in a restaurant by day and was a drummer in a band at night. Tattooed, good-looking, cocky, charming, confident . . .”