It never changed. Never gave a clue who this woman was or why she was calling my boyfriend “sweetie.”

And the message sure as hell didn’t give me a hint as to why Cole hadn’t said a single thing about her.

I told myself that Cole was not sleeping with this woman—he’d told me as much, right? No Michelle. No anyone else.

So it was ridiculous for me to be getting worked up.

Except, dammit, I was worked up. And even if this woman was a former fuck buddy, shouldn’t he have told me?

And considering that my name was on the room registration just as big and as bold as Cole’s, didn’t that mean that I hadn’t violated any major rules of etiquette by listening to it?

I banged the heel of my hand against my forehead in the hopes that I might actually knock some sense into myself. Because I could either sit there for another half hour and make up another dozen or so ridiculous excuses—or I could simply pick up the phone, dial the woman’s number, and politely explain that Cole was at a meeting. And then equally politely ask who the hell she was.

I chose door number two—then almost choked when the voice that answered was Cole’s.

“Kat,” he said, his tone apologetic. “I’m sorry I’m late. And I’m sorry for what you must be thinking.”

I opened my mouth to reply, realized I didn’t have a clue what to say, and shut it again.

“Catalina?” The apology was gone, replaced by worry. “Are you there?”

“Yes.” I cleared my throat and tried again. “Sure. Yes. I’m here.”

“Come on down. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Down? You’re here?”

“In the lobby.”

“Oh,” I said as the universe tentatively righted itself. Because surely he wasn’t inviting me down to meet his mistress. “I’ll be right there.”

When the doors to the elevator opened, I saw Cole standing next to a stunningly beautiful woman with ebony skin, legs that seemed to go on forever, and a friendly, welcoming smile. She looked barely over twenty.

And Cole had his arm around her shoulders.

When he saw me, he shifted, sliding his arm off and replacing it with a proprietary hand to her back.

I stepped off the elevator, my eyes darting from him to her, and I’m certain that my confusion must have shown.

“Katrina Laron, I’d like you to meet my aunt, Bree Crenshaw.”

Bree held out her hand, that amazing smile growing even wider. “I am so glad to meet you. Cole just won’t shut up about you.”

“Bree . . .”

She laughed. “It’s true. And if she doesn’t already know you adore her then you need to tell her. And if she already knows you should tell her more often.”

“Bree’s in nursing school,” Cole said dryly. “She has a very excellent bedside manner.”

I laughed out loud, my earlier angst having completely disappeared. “It’s great to meet you, but I thought aunts were older.” When Cole had described his gang years to me last night, I’d pictured him taking care of two older women. Now I realized that he must have been like a father to Bree. Or at the very least like a big brother.

Bree hooked her arm through mine as she led the way through the lobby to the elegant bar next to the hotel’s signature restaurant. “Let me guess. Only child?”

“Um, yeah.”

“I’m Cole’s mother’s sister. She had him when she was fifteen, then died about five years later.” I nodded, remembering what Cole had told me about his mother. “I was born about five years after that.” She shrugged. “My mom was really young when she had my sister, and she had complications when she had me.”

“She had a stroke during the birth,” Cole said. “They think that may have contributed to the Alzheimer’s. She had Bree when she was forty-two and a few years later she was pretty much mentally gone.”

“That’s so sad.”

“It is,” Bree said. “And that’s another reason I’m more like Cole’s little sister than his aunt. He pretty much raised me and took care of my mom.”

Cole caught my eye, then took my hand. “I should have told you she was younger, but it didn’t occur to me,” he said, obviously realizing that I’d been thrown a bit off-kilter. “Bree is just Bree, and I didn’t think to explain that she was younger.”

“Explain?” Bree asked, as sat down at one of the tables in the bar.

“Cole was telling me the story of his life last night,” I said.

“Oh, really?” Her brows lifted. “I hope that’s true. Cole keeps too much of that stuff to himself, and there’s no reason to do that.”

“Bree.” The warning note in Cole’s voice was unmistakable, and I couldn’t help but wonder what family secret rattled around in his closet that Bree so fervently believed he should set free. Not Anita. Frankly I doubted that Bree knew that secret. But something else. Something that put that clipped, secretive tone in his voice.

“It’s not a state secret, Cole. And you know that I think it should be out in the open.”

“This isn’t a discussion we’re having. Not right now. Are we clear?”

She rolled her eyes, and I bit back a grin. Secret or not, I liked the dynamic between these two. It was normal and human and a little bit sweet. On impulse, I reached for his hand, then squeezed tight.

He looked at me, his expression mildly surprised. “Sorry. I love her, but she pushes my buttons.”

“She’s sitting right here,” Bree said.

“You two are wonderful,” I said, unable to keep the laughter out of my voice. “I’m so glad to meet you, Bree. Really, I am.”

“See that?” Bree said, aiming a triumphant smile toward Cole. “I knew I’d like this girl.” She cocked her head and looked at Cole. “Don’t mess it up, okay?”

“I’ll try my best,” he said dryly.

“Don’t worry,” I added. “I won’t let him.”

“Good,” Bree said. “Between the two of us, there just might be hope for him yet.”

After two rounds of drinks and several more rounds of conversation about everything and nothing, Cole and I poured Bree into a taxi, then waved her off as the cab disappeared from view.

“I like her,” I said, though I was certain he’d already picked up on that little fact. “She’s great.”

“She is,” he agreed. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you ahead of time that we might get together with her. I wasn’t sure the timing would work out. But Bree’s incredibly important to me. And since you are, too, I really wanted you to meet her.”

“I’m glad,” I said, though the words sounded thick with emotion.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know how much you mean to me, Kat. It’s hardly a secret that you fill me up.” He held his hand out for me, and I took it, then came willingly when he drew me close. “You’re my future,” he said, “and Bree’s my past. It made sense for you to meet.”

“You’re going to make me cry.”

He brushed his thumb under my eye, wiping away an errant tear that had escaped as if to prove my point.