The cinnamon rolls that I brought in this morning for the guys probably didn’t hurt the progress either.

I sit at my desk and pick up my phone. My fingers instantly go to my camera app and click “All Photos.”

I shouldn’t do this. Why do I do this? But knowing it’s a bad idea doesn’t stop me. I need to see his face.

The scrolling stops at a photo I took the night Cole stayed over. His eyes are heavy and filled with sleep. His smile soft and tender. The light from my phone gives him a warm, cozy glow, and all I can see in his face is love.

And that’s what makes this all so frustrating. This isn’t about love. I know he loves me. This is about something else, and I don’t know what it is—and I may never know.

My breath stalls as I press my thumb against his picture, wishing it were him. Wishing more than anything it was Cole in the flesh. But it’s not, and it likely will never be again.

At least he’s okay.

I sucked it up and called his mother on Wednesday. Val’s insistence that something must’ve been wrong with him, that his behavior was so out of the ordinary, had started to bother me. So I called Casey and thanked her for being so kind to Ethan and me . . . then slid my way over to the topic of her son.

“I’m thrilled you called,” she said. “Cole is going to be fine. I think he had a moment where some things looked pretty awful, but he’s on the mend. It’ll take a bit, but he’ll be back on track soon.”

Odd, but okay.

My phone buzzes, and Kirk’s name is printed on the screen. I answer quickly.

“Hey,” I say. “How are you? How’s Charlotte?”

“Hi, Palmer. We’re good. You busy?”

I look around the office. “No. You know how Fridays are. They’re either swamped or dead, and today’s dead. Which is good because this week has been a bit of a learning curve.”

“I imagine it has.” He pauses. “I need to talk to you for a second. I’m not taking you away from anything important, am I?”

Whoa. I get to my feet, my Spidey senses telling me something is off.

“I’m just doing paperwork,” I say as naturally as I can. “What’s up?”

“Palmer . . . I sold the business.”

My hand flies to my mouth. No. Please, no. I squeeze my eyes shut and hold on as the bottom of my world falls out from under me.

“Already?” I squeak.

“It’s fast, I know. The paperwork isn’t finished, obviously. It’s barely started. But I accepted an offer, and it’s going to process. I’m sure of it.”