(Lena)
Cole was ready before I was.
That wasn't surprising. He was always ready before I was, dressed and composed while I was still standing in front of the mirror trying to decide if what I was wearing mattered for a doctor's appointment. It didn't. I knew it didn't. I changed twice anyway.
When I finally came downstairs he was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with his phone in his hand. He looked up when he heard me and didn't say anything about the time.
"Ready?"
"No," I said honestly.
"That's allowed." He put his phone away.
We drove to the appointment mostly in silence, the kind that had become familiar between us, comfortable rather than heavy. Atlanta moved past the windows in its usual way, indifferent to the fact that I was sitting in the passenger seat trying t
