when it came to athletes and anyone in the celebrity spotlight, but I wasn’t so sure that applied to someone like me and what I wanted to do.
“You know how good you are, right?”
“You know how good you are, right?” I fired back before giving my waffle attention.
“I mean it.”
“So do I.”
“You’ve always believed in me,” he said, and I knew he was thinking back to some specific moment we had shared over the years. “You told me I’d get drafted. You told me I could do anything I wanted.”
“I meant it. I still do. I want you to get drafted, Cole. I always have. Even when I hated you. Even when you didn’t deserve it. I’ve always wanted you to succeed.”
“Why?” he asked, and I knew he was truly wondering how someone who hated him could still root for him.
“Because it’s important to you. And because I believe in you. And I want you to succeed.”
“I’m so mad right now,” he said as he chewed on his food like it was in trouble in his mouth.
“Mad? Why are you mad?”
“I feel like I wasted so much time convincing myself that I couldn’t have this.” He waved his arm in my direction. “And we could have. We should have been together this whole time, and it’s my fault we haven’t been.”
I sucked in a quick breath, hoping my next words would help calm him down. “We can’t change the past, Cole. You know that, right?” I asked, and he nodded even though I could tell that he didn’t want to agree. “Let’s make a decision right here, right now,” I insisted as I put my fork down and leaned toward him, my elbows on the small table between us.
“I’m listening.”
“We don’t go back. We don’t spend our time focusing on what we could have done differently or what we should have done or how we could have been better to each other. We only look toward the future. And we live there. Deal?” I asked as I extended my hand toward him.
“Deal,” he said as he reached for my hand, shook it, and then kissed the top as a soft grin appeared.
Best First Date in the History of First Dates
Cole
I’d been right about the waffles. And the restaurant’s lack of social media presence. The owner didn’t see the need, claimed that business was plenty busy without it. And while Christina didn’t argue that particular point, she did appeal to his other senses when he stopped by our table to say hello. She told him that the goal didn’t have to be about getting new customers, but more about showcasing the restaurant’s history, staff, and menu.
He loved her idea, claimed it was something that no one had explained to him before, and then he kissed her on the cheek without warning. I allowed it, considering he was about a hundred and five years old. Christina walked out of brunch with a full stomach and a new client.
“You’re incredible, you know that?” I pulled her hand to my lips and pressed a kiss there. I’d found myself doing that a lot with her. It seemed safer than constantly trying to maul her face, which, trust me, I wanted to do.
“Thank you.” She looked down for a second before lifting her head back up.
“How did you do that back there?” I asked.
Watching her in action was thrilling. She was so damn good at what she did. It was fun to see. I wondered for a second if that was how it felt for her to watch me play baseball.
“I listened. Being a good social media manager is about hearing what your client wants to sell or offer the public. What’s their angle? Mr. Barlow has no interest in advertising. And he’s right. He doesn’t need to. But I think it’s a shame to not let people know this place exists. There’s so much history. Did you know that Frank Sinatra ate there? More than once!” Her voice was ecstatic, and it was fucking adorable.
“I heard him say that,” I said with a grin as I pulled her door open, and she got inside.
She waited for me to get in the truck before she finished talking. “I’ll use the platforms to showcase how the restaurant has changed throughout the years. And how it hasn’t. Show old pictures, original menus, things like that. But also, the food. Because you wouldn’t expect food that tastes that good to come from a place that looks like that.”
“Told