The Step Between Love and Hate

I watched Cole Harrington treat the barista like trash and felt absolutely nothing but disgust at the way he didn't bother to show a little respect despite ordering coffee from her every other day for years. "Just black coffee. Large." He recited without looking up from his phone. Tessa, unlike Cole, actually paid attention to people and smiled anyway. "Rough morning?" "Something like that." He grabbed the cup when it was ready, dropped a twenty in the tip jar like money could substitute for basic human decency, and walked away without a thank you. Typical. I'd spent three years at Crestwood Academy watching Cole Harrington move through the walls like he owned it, and I'd never once been tempted to join the chorus of girls who thought his green eyes and quarterback stats made him interesting. Rich boys who peaked in high school didn't impress me, they just made me tired. My phone buzzed against the café table. Dinner tonight at The Emerald Room. 6pm sharp. Please wear something nice. I frowned at my mother's text. According to what I had heard, just appetizers in the Emerald Room cost more than our weekly grocery budget. Why exactly were we going there? I sent back a response immediately. Why? Three dots appeared, disappeared and appeared again. Richard wants to be introduced properly. Please, sweetheart. It's important to me. Richard. The man who'd been monopolizing my mother's time for six months. He was always with expensive gifts and had a practiced charm. I'd met him twice, tolerated him both times and figured he was a phase. Well, apparently he wasn't. Fine. But I'm wearing jeans. Maren. I am kidding mom. Mostly. Immediately I hit send, I shoved my phone away and tried to focus on the essay I was supposed to be editing, but the words blurred together. Something about tonight felt ominous in a way I couldn't name. Across the café, Cole laughed at something his teammate said. It was loud and obviously performative, designed to make sure everyone knew he was having a good time. God, I really couldn't stand him. ………. The Emerald Room was worse than I'd imagined. It had rows of crystal chandeliers and everyone spoke in hushed conversations. I thought I saw the waiter look at my Target dress like it was personally offensive. Mom spotted me from a corner booth and waved, her smile too bright and her new diamond earrings catching the light. Richard sat beside her looking entirely comfortable. Men like him were comfortable everywhere. And next to him— My stomach dropped. Cole Harrington sat across from my mother, wearing a blazer. He looked like he'd been forced into it at gunpoint. Next to him, a younger version of the same face was slouched in his chair. "Maren!" Mom stood and kissed my cheek. She smelled like expensive perfume. "You look beautiful. Come sit." I slid into the booth on autopilot, trying to understand what Cole Harrington was doing at my mother's important dinner. "Maren, you remember Richard." Mom's hand found his across the table. "And these are his sons. Cole and Ezra." Fuck no. Oh no no no. God no! "Hey," Ezra said, studying me with open curiosity and something that might have been amusement. "You go to Crestwood too, right?" "Yeah." My voice came out strangled. Cole didn't even look at me. He just stared at his water glass like it held all the answers to questions he had on his mind. "The boys wanted to meet you properly," Richard said. "Since we're all going to be seeing a lot more of each other." The bottom fell out of my world. "Claire and I have some news," Richard continued, glancing at my mother with what I'm sure he thought was affection. "We've been seeing each other for several months now, and we've realized something important. Life's too short to wait." Please no. Mom's eyes were shining and it irritated me. "Richard proposed last week, and I said yes." “What?” The table erupted in chaos. “Congratulations, when's the wedding?” Ezra asked but I couldn't hear any more of it over the screaming in my head. I looked at Cole. He was still staring at that f*****g water glass, jaw so tight I could see the muscle dancing. "We're getting married in two weeks," Mom said, squeezing my hand like this was good news. "I know it's fast, sweetheart, but when you know, you know." "Two weeks?" The words came out flat. "We don't see the point in waiting." Richard smiled. "At our age, you learn to recognize what matters." "At your age?" I couldn't stop myself. "Mom, you've known him for what? Six months?" "Maren—" "Six months. And now you're getting married? Moving in together? Have you even talked about—" "We've talked about everything," Mom said firmly, and I heard the warning. Not here. Not now. “Have you thought about me?” Her eyes were pleading now. Ezra leaned back, openly enjoying the show. "This is going great." "Ezra," Richard said quietly. "What? I'm just saying, at least someone's being honest about how insane this is." Cole finally looked up, and when his eyes met mine, I saw the same horror, the same fury, the same sense of a trap closing. "Well, congratulations," he said to his father, and stalked out. Perfect!