Page 77 of The Birthday List (Maysen Jar 1)

“Text me what you need and I’ll go to the store later.”

As he took another bite of pie, I tapped my fingers on the counter. “What if I ask you to take me to a foreign film?” I was sure he’d pass on that one. I’d never met a man who liked foreign films, not that I was crazy about them either.

“They aren’t my favorite, but as long as they have popcorn and Milk Duds, I’m in.”

“Okay. I’ve got one.” I gave him a smug grin. “What if I ask you to break the law?”

“Like pull a damn fire alarm?” He scoffed and pointed his spoon at my nose. “That’s one you’re not going to cross off the list, by the way. Not when you could end up with a huge fine or a year in jail.”

I frowned. I had no idea how I was going to finish that item from Jamie’s list, but clearly, I wouldn’t be asking Cole for help. Maybe I’d see if Jimmy had any ideas.

Cole swallowed another bite of pie. “Are you going to ever ask me your question or just play hypotheticals all afternoon? Because at some point, I do need to get back to the station, and it would happen a lot faster if you just realized that outside of breaking the law, I’ll say yes to anything you ask.”

I smiled and leaned closer. Molly would definitely have swooned over that one. “I have to go to a wedding on Saturday. My freshman roommate is getting married and I’d like to go.” I hadn’t seen her in a few years but she was about the only friend from my past that didn’t treat me differently because my husband had been murdered. “Would you go with me?”

Cole looked up from his pie. “Like a date?”

Date.

Maybe that word wasn’t so scary, after all.

“Yes. Like a date.”

“You look,” Cole swallowed, “stunning.”

“Thanks.” I smoothed down the skirt of my forest-green dress. It had a simple design but was fitted down the bodice to my hips and knees. I hadn’t worn this dress in years, but it still fit perfectly and gave me the illusion of curves and cleavage.

I looked up from my patent nude heels, letting my eyes linger on Cole. “Not so bad yourself, Detective.”

He was wearing a white button-down shirt tucked into some charcoal slacks. The leather belt cinched at his narrow waist accentuated his broad shoulders. And his legs looked long—really long—and his thighs thicker than they did in jeans.

I was shamelessly staring at his bulging quads when he cleared his throat. “Ready to go?”

I nodded, hoping that the heat in my cheeks wasn’t too red, and stepped down off the porch. “This is kind of weird, having you here again.” Tonight was the first time Cole had ever picked me up from home instead of the restaurant.

“Yeah.” He held out his hand but didn’t say anything else about that night.

When I slipped my hand in his, the nerves in my stomach settled the instant we touched.

An hour later, we were squished together in a wooden pew at the church. At the altar, my friend was saying her vows to a man who looked at her like she was the only person in the sanctuary.

I’d been fighting the burn and swelling in my throat since the moment she walked down the aisle. The moment she said I do, I lost the fight and tears flooded my eyes.

I’d never cried at a wedding before. Never. Not even my own.

Maybe it was because this was the first wedding I’d been to since Jamie had died. Maybe it was because the traditional vows that they’d exchanged were exactly the same ones I’d said to Jamie. Maybe I was just becoming more sentimental. Whatever the reason, I was about to lose it completely.

Breathe. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. But no matter how many times I told myself not to cry, I did it anyway. A steady stream of tears poured over my lower lids and I swiped furiously so they wouldn’t smudge my makeup. I sniffled as I wiped my hands on my dress, drying them so I could go back to my face. Just as I lifted them up for the second time, Cole

took one between his own.

I looked up through blurry eyes as he placed a handkerchief into my hand.

“Mom always cries at weddings,” he whispered with a smile.

Cole didn’t say don’t cry. He didn’t care if I lost it now and then. He just gave me some extra steel for my spine in the form of a plain white hankie.

I hiccupped a laugh, taking the cloth from his hands to blot my eyes dry. Then, leaning into Cole’s side, I clutched the handkerchief and used it to keep my mascara from running as the ceremony concluded and the guests stood to clap for the newly married couple.