Page 18 of Unbreakable Bonds (The Boston Romance #2)

COLE

Seconds after ringing the bell of the classic federal-style house on Boston's most elegant block, my chest tightens.

Every visit here scratches at memories I've spent years trying to bury.

The front door opens, and I force a smile at Jeremy, the lines around his eyes deeper than I remember, but that familiar sparkle still there.

"Cole! Come in."

"Hey, Jeremy." My voice sounds steadier than I feel. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. Getting a little older, but don't we all?"

The hallway seems to close in as I follow him inside. Trophy cases line the walls, each gleaming award a reminder of expectations I could never quite meet. My fingers itch to touch them, muscle memory from years of polishing them as punishment for not being "good enough."

Jeremy's hand on my shoulder anchors me to the present. He's been here since I was five, the one constant source of warmth in this cold mansion. While my parents chased perfection, Jeremy offered understanding and the occasional stolen cookie.

"Your mother has mentioned you many times these last weeks." His voice carries a gentle warning. "She misses you."

I cock a brow, tension knotting between my shoulders. "I've been busy with work, and the only thing my mom misses is the chance to play matchmaker at her dinner sessions."

Jeremy's knowing look makes me shift uncomfortably. "Even if her actions don't always show it, she loves you."

I let out a heavy sigh, dragging a hand over my face. "I know."

"A strong espresso?"

The offer brings a genuine smile to my lips. Jeremy's coffee has been solving problems in this house for decades. "If you make it, sure. Where can I find her?"

"In the study. She's busy arranging a dinner party." He chuckles at my frown. "I'll bring your coffee together with your mom's cappuccino in a few minutes."

Each step down the familiar hallway unearths memories I'd rather forget.

The trophy cabinet looms to my right, and despite my best efforts, my eyes are drawn to the gleaming metal and glass.

State Championships. National Awards. Each one representing hours of practice, countless lectures about excellence, and never quite measuring up.

My mother sits at the oval-shaped table dominating the study, her perfect posture a testament to years of rigid expectations. When I slam my hand against the wooden door, she jumps, hand flying to her chest.

"Oh, sweet Jesus, Cole. Was that necessary?"

"Good morning, Mother." A familiar bitterness coats my tongue. "And to answer your question, yeah, it was. You were so focused on that piece of paper, I thought it would be an excellent way to let you know I've arrived."

She stands, automatically adjusting her tight hair bun before approaching. My jaw clenches as she starts plucking invisible fluff from my jacket, a habit that's always felt more about control than care.

"Seven weeks, Cole." Her voice carries decades of disappointment. "Always an excuse."

I let out an exasperated huff, stepping back and removing her hands from my jacket. "Mom, I was busy."

"Too busy to visit your mother?" Her eyes, so like my own, meet mine. "I have to call you to check if you're still alive."

"Mom!"

"Oh, Carmen, go easy on him. Your son is a hardworking businessman."

I can't help but chuckle at Jeremy's timely intervention, watching my mother's annoyance at his interference. He sends me a slight grin before turning back to her.

"Carmen, I've told the gardener to trim the bushes in the back of the garden. I'll be upstairs if you need anything."

My mom nods curtly, and once Jeremy leaves, she returns to her chair. "You said you had something important to discuss?"

I take a sip of the perfectly made espresso, gathering my thoughts. This conversation has been fifteen years in the making, and still, I'm not ready. "Yeah, I did. Do you remember when I went to Los Angeles for eight months?"

My mom swallows hard. "You mean after—" Grief flashes across her face before her mask slips back into place.

"Yeah," I cut in, sparing us both from saying it aloud. "During my time there, I met a woman called Jessica Davis. We... hung out while I was there." My fingers tighten around the espresso cup. "A few weeks ago, I received a call from social services in Los Angeles. Jessica died in a car accident."

"Oh, how tragic," my mom murmurs, palm pressed to her chest in that practiced way of hers.

"Jessica had a daughter—" I stop as she turns back to her list, scribbling something down. Familiar anger burns in my gut at her dismissal. Fine. Have it your way. "The daughter Jessica had is mine, Mom."

The pen clatters to the marble floor. "What?"

"Fifteen years ago, Jessica gave birth to a girl, and I'm the father."

"That is ridiculous." She shoots up from her chair, perfectly manicured hands gripping the table edge. "How on earth is that possible?"

"Sex," I note with a smug grin, watching color flood her cheeks. She inspects my face, and when she sees I'm serious, she drops back into her seat. Her hand covers her mouth, and for once, the gesture seems genuine.

"I reacted the same way when the woman from child services called." I lean forward, elbows on my knees. "To clear up what I assumed was a misunderstanding, I flew to Los Angeles. But the second I met Samantha..." My voice softens at the memory. "I knew without a doubt that she's mine."

My mom's gaze turns calculating. "What if she's not yours?"

I straighten my back. "A paternity test confirmed it."

The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken accusations. Finally, she speaks, "What are you going to do? A child in your life is an immense responsibility, Cole. I don't think—"

"Samantha is already living with me, Mom." Her lips part in shock. "What? She's at your house?"

I scratch the back of my neck, the gesture betraying more nervousness than I'd like. "Yes, after the test showed I was her biological father, I signed the documents and took her home with me."

My mother's mouth opens and closes several times before words emerge. "How did they find you?"

"Samantha remembered her mom mentioning that her father was from Boston. Jessica had put my name on the birth certificate."

My mom sinks back in her chair, and for a moment, I see past her perfect facade to the woman beneath. "You've been keeping my granddaughter from me. Why?"

I pinch the bridge of my nose, fighting a familiar headache. "Yes, I did. With excellent reason. We both needed time to adjust. Samantha lost her mother and had to leave her entire life in Los Angeles behind to come live with me."

"How on earth are you going to take care of a fifteen-year-old? You're a busy businessman. You don't have time to raise a child."

"I have my office at home now." I shrug, though the adjustment hasn't been easy. "I work from there when she's home and schedule appointments during school hours. It's challenging, but we're making it work."

My mom blinks, processing this information. Then her eyes light up in a way that makes my stomach drop. "When can I meet her?"

I sigh, already seeing where this is heading. "What about next Sunday?"

She nods, a familiar calculating look crossing her face. "But, you know this means you need a suitable woman at your side as soon as possible? The girl needs female support in her life." Her eyes dart to the list on the table. "What about Amy, the daughter of my friend Tracy? She's amazing."

"No. I'm already dating someone," I blurt out, desperate to head off another matchmaking attempt.

Her face transforms with astonishment. "W... what? Who are you seeing? What is her name? What does she do?"

The emerging headache pounds harder. "Cole, if this is another one of your games, I—"

"No, Mom, I'm serious." I run my hand through my hair. "The woman I'm seeing is helping me with Samantha." It's not exactly a lie, but my gut twists anyway.

She gives me another investigative look. "So this woman... will she be there this Sunday? I'd love to meet her too."

The muscles in my jaw clench. My mother won't rest until she gets what she wants—she never has. "I'll ask if she's got time."

My mother's mouth opens and closes several times before words emerge. "How did they find you?"

"Samantha remembered her mom mentioning that her father was from Boston. Jessica had put my name on the birth certificate."

My mom sinks back in her chair, and for a moment, I see past her perfect facade to the woman beneath. "You've been keeping my granddaughter from me. Why?"

I pinch the bridge of my nose, fighting a familiar headache. "Yes, I did. With excellent reason. We both needed time to adjust. Samantha lost her mother and had to leave her entire life in Los Angeles behind to come live with me."

"How on earth are you going to take care of a fifteen-year-old? You're a busy businessman. You don't have time to raise a child."

"I have my office at home now." I shrug, though the adjustment hasn't been easy. "I work from there when she's home and schedule appointments during school hours. It's challenging, but we're making it work."

My mom blinks, processing this information. Then her eyes light up in a way that makes my stomach drop. "When can I meet her?"

I sigh, already seeing where this is heading. "What about next Sunday?"

She nods, a familiar calculating look crossing her face. "But, you know this means you need a suitable woman at your side as soon as possible? The girl needs female support in her life." Her eyes dart to the list on the table. "What about Amy, the daughter of my friend Tracy? She's amazing."

"No. I'm already dating someone," I blurt out, desperate to head off another matchmaking attempt.

Her face transforms with astonishment. "W... what? Who are you seeing? What is her name? What does she do?"

The emerging headache pounds harder. "Cole, if this is another one of your games, I—"

"No, Mom, I'm serious." I run my hand through my hair. "The woman I'm seeing is helping me with Samantha." It's not exactly a lie, but my gut twists anyway.