My chest shakes as I chuckle at her ridiculousness.

The corner of her mouth twitches. “So, are you going to screw him or not?”

“Val!”

“What? It’s just a question. I’m just trying to help you live. You’re tired of the same old decisions and results, right?”

This is technically true. But it doesn’t mean that her suggested choice is the right one, because it’s ultimately not.

“Pardon me for stating the obvious,” she says, “but I’m pretty sure that sexy baseball player could take you to third base, if you get what I’m saying. Use him to get on base, and then let someone else hit you home.”

I laugh. “Stop with the baseball analogies.”

“I’ve been looking them up. This is fun!”

I act like she’s ridiculous because she is. But I also get what she’s saying.

Therein lies the problem.

At least I know my weaknesses—in this case, giving other people the benefit of the doubt. I have the wherewithal to double-check myself before I wreck myself this time, thank God.

I can easily see myself having dinner with him, laughing, having fun. It would be a great distraction from work and Burt and dealing with Jared and the overall crisis of my life. Opening that door with Cole would be like handing the steering wheel over to him for a while. I can’t say the break from the chaos wouldn’t be appreciated. But I also can’t say it wouldn’t just be digging the hole deeper for me to climb out of later.

The truth is, Cole is a nice guy. I’m sure he would be a good time. Even stranger is the fact that I think he would be good with Ethan, and that’s much harder to find than it should be.

Cole is a Milky Way that you zap in the microwave and let get all melty and gooey. And then, when you eat it, it gets all over your face and fingers, and you wind up in a blissful sugar coma. It feels wonderful at the moment, but you have to work those calories off later—that or live with the added weight, which is what I usually do.

And I’m tired of doing that. I just want the salad.

Proverbially. I hate salad.

I look up at Val. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’m also sure that I’m done talking about Cole tonight.”

“Cool. I’m here to help you live your best life.”

My stomach squeezes. I’m not sure why I suddenly feel so antsy, but I do, and I need it to stop.

“Let’s do something,” I say, sitting up. The end of the recliner snaps down again. “Let’s reactivate my dating apps and see what we can find.”

“Oh yeah. This is the way to find a serious, committed man.” She snorts. “But what the hell. If you want to do some Cole Avoidance this way . . . sounds fun. I’m in.”

I laugh and make my way to the sofa. She’s right. This is an attempt at Cole Avoidance. It seems like the only way to distract Val—by giving her other men to focus on.