21. Leah
21
Leah
I will be paying off Cooper in baked goods for the rest of my life. But if it saves my business, then it’s worth it. I will feed that man cinnamon rolls and bake every single one of his brothers’ endless gender-reveal cakes for the rest of time if I can survive this.
We sit at the small metal table in my shop window. The one Arnold always sits at while waiting for Cooper to buy him a roll. I guess I will be buying Arnold’s rolls from now on too. Because anything Cooper is getting is going on a never-to-be-paid tab.
He’s been reading my summons and complaint for the last thirty minutes. Google tells me I’m already in debt to him for one hundred fifty dollars. His blue eyes are focused. His brow is furrowed—not in disdain, but concentration.
Cooper is a good-looking guy. I’m not so prideful to deny the fact. But I’ve always thought of him as the boy who ruined my teenage life. In my mind, Cooper was always just a cocky, popular jock who sat on my lap and sang in my face, “ Come on sugar, let me know, ” with his mediocre voice .
That is not something I find attractive. Sure, I was humiliated back then, but even today, a man calling me sugar and asking if I want them—no thanks.
But this Cooper… This Cooper is serious about his work. This Cooper sincerely seems to want to help me. This Cooper has had more struggles than he wants to let on.
I stare at him, an untouched cinnamon roll sitting in front of me while his half-eaten orange roll rests beside my paperwork.
I nibble on my bottom lip. “What do you think? Does he have a case? He doesn’t have a case, right?” PJ is wrong, and his lawyer is evil, and they should both be put away. Save humanity, Cooper, and put PJ, his dumb lawyer, and the suit who delivered my summons away!
He peers up from the paperwork, a serious crease forming between his eyes. I appreciate that crease—it says, hey, I’m figuring out how to put PJ and his stupid lawyer in jail for the rest of their peewee lives . In fact, I love that crease. It’s my new favorite thing about Cooper Bailey. I’m going to kiss that crease one day.
Whoa. No. I won’t be kissing anything.
“Did you monetize your podcast?” he asks, which isn’t exactly details on how he’s putting PJ away, but I refuse to lose faith.
“Yes. But we made very little. We sold ad space to a few sponsors.” I bounce my leg beneath the table, waiting for the big PJ’s-going-to-prison reveal.
Cooper runs a hand over his trimmed beard—okay, that beard is kind of sexy, too. The crease between his eyes and that beard. But they’re both new, he didn’t have either in high school.
The hair on his upper lip twitches, and his crease seems to deepen.
“That’s not a problem, right? It was hardly anything, and PJ and I split the small profit fifty-fifty. It’s not like we could have survived off of it.”
He gives me a sad smile. The kind of smile that says PJ is not going to jail anytime soon.
“It’s a complication. One we are going to work around.” He swallows, his throat moving with the motion. “Leah, I want to do what’s best for you. What’s easiest and the least painful for you. Have you considered changing the name of your shop?”
I push back on the small table, my heart dropping into the pit of my stomach. I stand and pace once. My emotions are a tightly wound string ready to bust at any second.
“I can’t do that,” I tell him.
Cooper watches me from the table. “Can I ask why—as your lawyer?”
I swallow, my eyes filling, and then one tear falls. Cooper Bailey is going to see me cry. I hate that. I swat at the betraying tear and find my voice, speaking past the ache in my throat. “My grandpa—mi abuelo. I used to stay with him and mi abuela in the summer, in Puerto Rico. I baked with them all summer long. We’d use my grandmother’s recipes and my grandfather’s secrets, creating the best memories of my life. Abuelo’s favorites were my cinnamon rolls. He called them my sweet swirls.” I swat at another tear. “I opened this shop because of him. To honor him and—” My throat clenches, cutting off my last thought.
Cooper stands. “And Abuelo, he’s no longer with us?”
I shake my head, more tears falling, missing my grandfather more in this minute than I have in months.
“Hey,” Cooper says, and his voice is soft and tender. That crease forms again, and I rein back my desire to touch it. “It’s going to be okay,” he says, sounding sure. “We’re going to figure this out. Okay?”
I nod, because my throat is tight and I don’t trust my voice, but with that single movement, two more pesky tears fall.
Then Cooper Bailey, high school hottie who had more ego than any healthy human should, the boy I once credited to ruining my life, wraps me up in a hug.
He’s tall and broad, and his arms are like two pillows wrapping around me, cradling to make sure nothing harsh or bleak gets through. My face warms next to his brawny chest, and I breathe in mint and bergamot.
It’s not awful.
I’m not mad about it.
But it is a little confusing to my brain who was very recently the president of the anti-Cooper Bailey club.
“We’ll make it right,” he says, his hand running over the back of my head and down the length of my hair.
But I can’t stay wrapped up in this Cooper Bailey burrito all night—even if I don’t hate it. Nope, my logical side knows that these bodies need to separate.
“I believe you,” I tell him, mostly because I want to believe him so badly. I have no other choice. I need Cooper, and I need him to figure this out. Cooper with his big brain and strong chest and burly arms is going to fix this mess—the arms and chest are really just a bonus. “And as payment, you will eat for free at Sweet Swirls for the rest of your life.” I peer up at him and add, “ And I forgive you.”