Page 44 of I Wish I Would’ve Warned You (Forbidden Wishes #3)

EMILY

I only agreed to go to Hoboken for Thanksgiving because Taylor wore me down. Somewhere between late-night phone calls and shared playlists, she managed to become an actual friend—like, a real one. The kind that doesn’t push when you’re quiet but always knows when to nudge anyway.

She dropped out of college last month to pursue songwriting full-time, and, to my surprise, she’s actually good at it. Really good. The kind of good that makes me think, maybe, I’ll follow her to Nashville this summer if I don’t burn out first.

Coming along for the trip is Justin—a guy I met in my essay writing class.

He’s what you’d call Cole-lite. All the surface-level charm without the emotional weight, without the knots and shadows.

He lives in Hoboken too, so we’re riding up together.

He’s stopping by to say a polite hello to my mom and Aidan.

Me? I’m not staying for dinner. I’m not spending the evening pretending.

Just a quick “Hi. I’m still alive. Bye.”

The sooner I get to Justin’s family’s place, the sooner I can disappear into the holidays and back to the bubble I’ve built for myself in Pittsburgh.

When we arrive at the house, I feel the same kind of stunned awe I did the first time I saw the place in the Hamptons. Except this house is even bigger—and somehow warmer. More rustic. Less like a magazine spread and more like a very rich person’s attempt at pretending they’re grounded.

Stacks of Aidan’s newest book are everywhere. Arranged with sticky notes: Signed, Not Signed, For Giveaways. His smiling face on every glossy cover.

As the butler leads us through the kitchen, Cole walks in.

My heart kicks the inside of my ribs like it’s trying to escape.

His hair’s longer now, brushing the tops of his ears. The sleeves of his gray shirt are rolled to the elbows, revealing new ink winding down his forearm—ink I’ve never seen before, and yet it feels familiar.

“Oh, Mister Cole!” the butler says with a wide grin. “We weren’t expecting to see you this holiday season.”

“That makes two of us.” His voice is flat. Then his eyes find mine. “I was just dropping Matt off and grabbing a few things.”

“Well, I hope you’ll stay,” the butler says brightly. “Emily’s been delighting us with stories from her first semester—and she even brought a boyfriend.”

Cole arches a brow. His gaze flicks between me and Justin.

“If you need me,” the butler continues, “you know where to find me, Cole.” He gestures for us to follow, but we linger.

“So, you’re Cole,” Justin says, offering his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I highly doubt that.” Cole doesn’t move. Doesn’t even blink. “How long have you been dating my stepsister?”

“Oh, I see what this is.” Justin laughs like it’s funny. “We’ve been dating since October. But I can assure you, I only have the best intentions.” He presses a kiss to my cheek and drapes his arm around my shoulder like he’s claiming a prize.

Cole’s jaw tightens.

“Come on, lovebirds!” the butler calls from the hall. “I’ve got to show you the wine room!”

I move to follow Justin, but Cole steps in my path.

“I need to borrow her for a minute,” he says, looking directly at Justin. “I’ll have her back in a second.”

He doesn’t wait for a response. Just grabs my hand and pulls me down the hallway. We move past gilded frames and flickering sconces until he throws open a set of double doors and drags me into the indoor pool room.

The door slams shut behind us.

“We need to fucking talk,” he says, crowding me back until my shoulders hit the paneled wall.

“What if someone sees us here?”

“Sees us doing what, Emily?” He plants his hands on either side of my head. “Talking?”

“You don’t need to be this close just to talk.”

“I don’t like you pretending you don’t fucking know me.”

“Cole—”

“Don’t let your boyfriend ever kiss you in front of me again.” His eyes darken. “I don’t appreciate that shit.”

“You and I aren’t together.”

“That doesn’t mean you get to fuck other people.”

“I heard you’ve been fucking other girls.”

“From who?”

“Taylor.”

“Fucking really?” He laughs, but it’s sharp and bitter. “You sound jealous.”

“And you sound like a fucking hypocrite.”

“I haven’t touched anyone since the day you decided to abandon me for no good reason.”

“I gave you all the reasons.”

“Name one that actually holds up.” He traces a slow line along my bottom lip, and I swallow hard.

“Exactly,” he says quietly. “I don’t plan on being with anyone else. And last time I checked, your mouth—break or not—belongs to me.”

“Cole…”

“Your boyfriend has shady eyes,” he says, stepping back. “He can’t be trusted. And he doesn’t like you the way I do.”

“Like?”

“I’d say love, but that doesn’t seem to mean anything to you.”

He turns and walks out, leaving me with the echo of his words, the pounding in my chest, and the scent of chlorine hanging in the air.