Page 59 of Colt
“Some things haven’t changed,” I said instead.
She smiled, small and private, like she was filing the moment away somewhere. I’d seen that smile before. I’d been trying to get her to smile at me like that again for weeks.
“Shall we?”
“One second.” She held up a finger, already turning back. “I need to put these in water or they’ll be dead by the time we get home.”
She disappeared inside. I heard Betty say something, and Lilac laugh—quick and light—and then she was back, empty-handed, a little flushed.
I held the porch door open and let her walk past me. Her shoulder passed an inch from my chest and I stood very still until I trusted myself to move.
?
The restaurant wasn’t fancy—just a quiet Italian place on the edge of town, the kind with checkered tablecloths and candles in wine bottles. I’d chosen it specifically because it wasn’t a club hangout. Tonight, I wasn’t the VP of Venom Riders. I was just Colt, trying to convince the woman across from me to give me a chance.
“So.” Lilac fiddled with her napkin, avoiding my eyes. “This is weird, right? It’s not just me?”
“It’s definitely weird.” I couldn’t help the small smile. “We’ve been married for almost a decade, have two kids together, and I’m nervous like it’s a first date.”
She caught it. I saw it in the slight pause, the way her eyes came back to mine. “Weremarried.”
I set down my glass. “I’m not so sure about that.”
She went still. “The divorce—”
“Was signed while you were in a coma.” I kept my voice level. “You never agreed to it—you couldn’t have. It wasn’t legal.” I watched her take that in. “Which means, technically, we still are.”
Silence. She looked at me carefully, like she was deciding whether to be angry.
“I’m not saying it to put anything on you,” I said. “You get to decide what it means. I just—you asked why this was weird. That’s why. Because as far as I’m concerned, we’re still married and yet I still feel like I’m on a first date.”
“It kind of is. A first date. For me, anyway.” She met my gaze. “I don’t remember anything before seven years ago. Every day with you is a first.”
The reminder landed, but I kept my expression steady. “Then let’s make them good firsts.”
The waiter came and we ordered. She chose the pasta primavera, and I watched her eyes light up when she tasted it.
“This is amazing.” She twirled another forkful. “I can’t remember the last time I ate somewhere that wasn’t cooked by me or Betty.”
“Life with twin boys doesn’t leave much time for fancy dinners?”
“Life with twin boys doesn’t leave much time for anything.” But she was smiling. “Don’t get me wrong, I love them more than anything. But sometimes I forget that I’m a person separate from being their mama.”
“You’re a lot of things.” I set down my fork, giving her my full attention. “You’re their mama, yeah. But you’re also smart and stubborn and braver than anyone I’ve ever met. You survived something that should have killed you, raised two boys completely alone, built a whole life from nothing.”
“I had Betty. And Graham.”
“Still, you did most of it yourself.” I leaned forward. “That’s who you are, Lilac. A survivor. A fighter. You just don’t see it because you’re too busy doing it to step back and look.”
She was quiet for a moment, her eyes searching my face. “You really believe that?”
“I’ve always believed that. Even before—” I stopped, not wanting to bring up the past that she couldn’t remember. “You’re the strongest person I know. That hasn’t changed.”
Lilac reached across the table and touched my hand. Just a brush of fingers across my knuckles, barely there.
I didn’t move. Neither did she, for a long moment—her fingertips resting on the back of my hand, both of us looking at the contact like it was something that had happened to us rather than something we’d done. I watched her face: the small furrow between her brows, the way her eyes went soft and uncertain.
Then she pulled back.
