The wedding started before I had time to decide what to do with Cole’s confession.

One minute, I was standing behind my parents’ house trying to understand how ten years of my life had been shaped by one stupid lie.

The next, Mom was calling my name because the florist needed help.

After that, there was no room to think.

Guests arrived. Chairs filled. Jake forgot his boutonniere. Sophie cried before she reached the aisle, which made Jake cry, which made half the family cry.

Cole and I barely spoke.

When we did, it was awkward.

“Can you hand me that?” I asked during photos.

Cole passed me the bouquet.

“Thanks,” I said.

“No problem.”

That was it.

Ten years of misunderstanding, reduced to two people pretending flowers were fascinating.

By the reception, I was exhausted from acting normal.

Then one of the strings of lights near the far fence went dark.

Dad noticed immediately.

“Someone needs to fix that,” he said.

Jake was being dragged toward another photograph.

Cole looked at me.

I looked at him.

“I guess that is us,” he said.

We walked away from the reception together.

For the first minute, neither of us spoke.

Then Cole stopped beneath the dead lights.

“You still hate ladders?” he asked.

“I do not hate ladders.”

“You cried on one once.”

“I was twelve.”

“You were fourteen.”

I looked at him. “Why do you remember that?”

Cole smiled. “Because you threatened to push me off it.”

“There we go. That sounds more accurate.”

He laughed.

And just like that, something loosened.

Cole climbed the ladder while I held it steady.

“You know,” I said, “this feels familiar.”

“You doing all the work while I supervise?”

“I am holding the ladder.”

“Exactly. Critical support role.”

I shook it slightly.

Cole looked down.

“Hannah.”

“What?”

“Please remember that I know where you live.”

I frowned. “Do you?”

Cole climbed down.

“Richmond.”

I blinked.

“You know I live in Richmond?”

“Jake mentions you.”

“Where do you live?”

“North Carolina.”

I stared at him.

“That is only a few hours away.”

“About three and a half.”

For years, I had pictured Cole somewhere far away with a wife, a house, and a life that had nothing to do with mine.

Instead, he had been one state over.

“That is weird,” I said.

Cole nodded. “Today has had a lot of that.”

The lights flickered back on.

When we returned, Mom caught us talking near the edge of the reception.

She smiled.

“There you two are.”

“We fixed the lights,” I said.

Mom looked between us.

“You know, I always thought you two would end up together.”

I nearly dropped my drink.

“Mom.”

“What?” she asked.

Cole coughed into his hand.

Mom looked completely unbothered.

“You were always circling each other when you were younger.”

“We were not circling,” I said.

Mom smiled. “If you say so.”

Then she walked away.

Cole stared after her.

“Well,” he said.

“Do not.”

“I did not say anything.”

“You were going to.”

He smiled.

Later that night, after the speeches and dancing had blurred together, I found Cole alone near the back porch.

I had been avoiding one question all day.

I finally asked it.

“If you liked me back then, why were you so cold every time we saw each other after that?”

Cole’s expression changed.

“I was not trying to be cold.”

“You barely talked to me.”

“I thought that was what you wanted.”

I frowned. “Why?”

Cole leaned against the railing.

“When I asked Jake about you, he told me you were not interested.”

“I know.”

“No,” Cole said. “There was more.”

I waited.

“He made it sound like you knew I had asked.”

My stomach sank.

“What?”

“I thought he talked to you first,” Cole said. “I thought you knew exactly how I felt and told him to shut it down for you.”

I stared at him.

“So every time we saw each other…”

“I thought you were being nice,” he said. “Pretending nothing awkward had happened.”

Christmases.

Birthdays.

Family dinners.

All those years of careful distance suddenly looked completely different.

“I thought you regretted whatever had almost happened between us,” I said.

Cole looked at me for a long moment.

Then he shook his head.

“I wasn’t cold because I stopped wanting you.”

My breath caught.

Cole held my gaze.

“I was cold because I thought you knew I did.”

I cannot believe they BOTH thought the other one knew. Ten years of distance over the same lie is painful. Like this episode and share it with someone who loves slow burn.