16. Cooper
16
Cooper
I ’m listening to Mr. Martin, I am. He’s been a friend of my family’s for years. However, I’m also secretly eyeing Leah’s table. I know she asked me to go, but I think I have half a package of almonds in this suit coat, and I’m debating passing them off to her. Would she bite my head off? Maybe I should cut into this wedding cake—just a sliver—and bring her a piece. She did say she was starving.
Okay, maybe not. Paula would never forgive me. But where is the food? Leah can’t be the only one here who is hungry.
A man walks up to Leah’s table. He’s tall and good-looking, and for some reason that doesn’t sit well with me. Is this her date?
I mean, the girl shouldn’t have a problem getting a date, but then I’ve been watching her all night, and I haven’t seen her with anyone. Watching in a non-stalker sort of way. But now a guy—this guy—is lingering at her table.
Her pink cheeks pale and she’s saying something—while frowning .
She didn’t even frown at me like that. I can’t hear her words, but I’d bet money that they aren’t happy ones. Maybe she’s always a little unhappy. Maybe that’s just grown-up Leah. Or maybe this is the one person on her list lower than me. That’s what she said, right? There was only one other person at this reception she liked less than me.
If that’s the case, wouldn’t my presence be an improvement?
I move a few inches closer to Leah’s table, Mr. Martin following in step with me. He’s telling me all about the time his dad sued their neighbor—people love telling me their legal stories. But I’ve lost track of all his words. I am tuned in about eight feet to my left.
“Why are you sitting here?” Leah’s words filter past Mr. Martin’s story and into my ears. With them, I slide one foot closer.
“There aren’t assigned seats,” the man says.
Yep—not her date.
“I don’t want you here. Please .” Her voice is weak. Where is her fire? Leah always has fire when she’s talking to me. She doesn’t even sound like herself. “Go away,” she tells him, but it’s doused and depressing.
My eyes are glued to the girl not acting anything like the Leah I know.
The man beside her laughs, mean and low, and suddenly he’s not all that handsome. Nope, he’s more like a snake all dressed up for Halloween, pretending to be an actual person.
My body has made decisions before my brain can catch up. “Excuse me,” I say, interrupting Mr. Martin. And I’m off. One step, three steps, five steps, and Leah’s table is within reach.
The man sitting next to a quiet Leah peers up at my presence, but I only have eyes for the girl. “ Hi, honey ,” I say, attempting to mimic one of my very married brothers. I’m not sure I’m successful. I stumbled pretty badly over that word. So, at the risk of getting punched, to solidify the act, I lean down and peck Leah’s cheek, breathing in cinnamon and sugar.
I’d kind of like to high-five myself when pink floods back into Leah’s pretty cheeks.
She clears her throat, and I wonder if a slap to the face is in my very near future. “Uhhh, hi?” she says instead. Her acting skills may not be up to par with mine, but I’m here to act for both of us.
“Hey there,” I say to him , my tone low and not at all nice. I can be a bear if I need to be. “You’re in my seat.”
“I—” The snake looks from me to Leah.
“I asked you to go, PJ,” Leah says, her jaw clenching.
“Yes, but you didn’t say why .”
“Does she need to?” I stand tall, leaning against Leah’s chair and staring the square-jawed snake down. I give a shrug. “If a lady asks a man to go, he should comply. Don’t you agree? There are plenty of seats in this dining area. Is there a reason you’ve chosen to sit here and annoy my—” I swallow. I am definitely getting punched later. “My date ?”
“Date?” This PJ says. “I haven’t seen you two together.”
Growing up with older brothers does two things: it forces you to hold your own and makes sure you can speak with actions rather than words. I am certain I could have this PJ on his backside in less than two seconds.
“I’m sorry about that, Leah. I promise I’m done getting distracted with work. I’m all yours. All night. Exactly where I want to be. So you”—I reach out and tug on PJ’s collar, pulling the man to his feet—“will need to find another seat.”
The snake grunts and smacks my hand from his dress shirt. He runs his palm down the front of his button-up, smoothing it out as if I’ve been too rough with him. I’d like to be rough with him, that’s for sure.
“Fine. I was getting bored here anyhow. You’ll be hearing from my people,” he says to Leah, like the jagweed he is, and then he’s gone, strutting across the ship.
I don’t dare sit—not after what I just witnessed, not after how I told PJ to listen to Leah’s wishes and leave. Nor do I go just yet. I will, but I’m giving Leah’s other friend time to get as far as he possibly can from us.
I swallow and search for a way out of the silence. “Oh! I brought you something.” I dig into my pocket and pull out the half-full bag of month-old almonds. I bought them the last time I wore this suit coat. I hold them out to her.
“Food!” Leah scrambles, snatching the bag like she hasn’t eaten in weeks. Her fingers brush mine, making every hair on my arm stand on end.
I clear my throat, my mouth dry. “Well… enjoy.”
Leah pops two nuts into her mouth, and I’m surprised when she says, in that soft tone she took with PJ, “Sit. Stay.”
“Are you sure?” I don’t like that quiet tone. It feels unlike her. Too submissive. Like a shell of the woman I am certain she is. “I’m not here to make your life harder.”
She tosses two more almonds into her mouth, presses her lips together, and blinks her gaze up to me. “I’m sorry I was so rude to you before. Please, sit down.”
It’s more of an invitation than Leah Bradford has ever given me. I won't waste it. I sit next to her, scoot my chair in, and make myself comfortable.
“Thank you.” She clears her throat, her eyes on the table. “For helping with him.”
Huh. So, no punching? Strangely, I am a little disappointed. I was so sure I’d be getting hit for calling myself her date.
“And for these.” She holds up the almost-empty bag of almonds, making me wish I had three more.
“Sure.” I drag my eyes from the blue travel bag of almonds to the last one being popped into her mouth. “Will I get booted if I ask a follow-up question?”
She pulls a breath through her nose, licks her lips, and lets out a slow sigh. “Possibly.”
“I guess I’ll risk it.” I look at her, searching for her fire, until she’s looking right back at me, her green eyes bright. “Who was that?”
She licks her lips again, attempting to melt me without even touching me. “My ex.” She grits her teeth, her jaw clenching, and adds, “Who happens to be suing me.”
“He’s suing you? And he’s coming over here to talk to you? He’s not very bright, is he?” I knew that guy was a jagweed.
Leah’s somber expression softens, and a small laugh filters through her lips. “No, he’s not. But then, what does that say about me? I dated him.”
“You made a mistake. We all make mistakes. Once you knew better, you did better.”
“Maya Angelo,” she says.
And sure, I didn’t quote Maya exactly. I paraphrased for sure. But she got it.
“Then Maya would be sorry to hear that he’s the one who dumped me.”
I cringe—it’s instinct. Leah didn’t send that one away with his tail between his legs? Sure, he wasn’t terrible to look at, but as far as I could tell, that’s all the man had going for him. Yet, he broke up with her. I’m not sure I believe it.
“Yeah, I know,” she says.
“I’m not gonna lie, I’m disappointed to hear that. That guy is a real?— ”
“A pigheaded jerk.”
“Yeah.” I nod. “That’s not bad. I was thinking ‘condescending fool’.”
She crosses her legs, her knee and thigh slipping through the slit of her red dress, causing my pulse to quicken its pace. “Andrea always refers to him with names using his initials,” she says. “Pigheaded for P and jerk for J. She’s gotten very creative.”
“I see.” I nod, thinking on the spot. “So, can I ask why Proud Mr. Jekyll,” I say, trying it Andrea’s way, “is giving you a hard time?” People don’t like the word sue . Especially if they’re the ones being sued. It insinuates that they’ve done something wrong. I don’t know what Leah has or hasn’t done, but I take a risk and ask. This is my wheelhouse—maybe I can help.
She swallows, her eyes still on me. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“No problem,” I say, not wanting to push. This might be the most civilized conversation we’ve had yet. I don’t want to ruin it now.
She drums her fingers on the table, and when a waiter walks by, Leah stops him with a hand on his elbow. “Do you have any Diet Coke? Or maybe a pig in a blanket?”
“Food should be out soon,” the man tells her.
She blows out a tired breath. “Okay.” She licks those lips again. I’m starting to wonder if she’s doing it on purpose. The action is doing things to my insides, and I think she knows it. “Maybe just a drink then? I’m dying of thirst.”
“I can get you a drink,” the man says. Then, turning to me, asks, “Anything for you, sir?”
I shake my head. I can wait for our meal—that is, if they ever decide to feed us.
“I need a drink,” she tells me. “I appreciate the almonds, I do. But now my mouth is dry.” She licks her lips again. “And salty. Besides, I won’t survive the rest of this night without caffeine.” She stifles a yawn. “Baker’s hours.”
“Do you want to dance? Moving might help.” Sure it would—it has nothing to do with the fact that since the minute I spotted her, I’ve been itching to touch her. It’s worth a shot. Leah Bradford hasn’t bitten my head off in twenty minutes. It might be a world record, and it’s making me brave.
Leah’s Diet Coke is delivered before she can answer me. She downs it like a man lost at sea, surrounded by salt water for days with nothing real to drink.
“Could I get another?” she says to a different waiter this time.
Also—so many waiters, so little food. Where’s the meal they’ve promised us?
I try again: “So, that dance?”
“No.” She’s quick to reject me, and I can’t say it shocks me.
“Why didn’t you talk to Pouty Joker like that?” I ask. “You seemed different .”
“You don’t know me, Cooper Bailey. So how would you know if I’m any different?”
See, fire. There it is. I think I do know her. Part of her, anyway.
“I may not know you well , but I’ve had the pleasure of being told off by you multiple times. Why not tell off PJ?” I ask, not quick enough to come up with a new nickname for Leah’s schmuck ex.
“Because you’re… you .” I wait for another comeback, but instead I get a sigh and a deflating Leah right before my eyes. “I don’t know. He always does that to me. He was so brilliant in school—I think I just believed everything he said was right. And then, he started putting words in my mouth and—” She shakes her head. “I never know what to say. My defenses fail.”
I study her, knowing this man is somewhere in the room. I’d like to make him sorry for making her feel that way. “The next time he tries to presume your words, you spit them back out at him.”
She sits up a little taller, one hand beneath her chin, those green eyes glued to mine. “Like when he says, ‘You never cared about our podcast,’ I should say…”
“Say it right back,” I tell her. “Say, ‘I never cared?’ And then, without getting defensive, you tell him, ‘I get to decide that. Not you.’ You stay calm. Let him get riled.”
“Huh.” She swallows, straightens her shoulders, and folds her hands together on the tabletop. “I might be able to do that.”
A minute later, the waiter is back with two more Diet Cokes, she snatches up one of the glasses and I push the other her way. She needs it more than I do.
“Let’s try.” I lean half an inch closer to her, waiting for approval.
“Okay,” she says, downing her second glass and reaching for mine. “Go for it. Give me something real. Don’t hold back.”
So, I don’t. I roll my shoulders and strike: “You know you liked it when I sang to you back in high school.”
Her cheeks flood with pink—but she did ask me not to hold back. “ I liked it ?” she says, completing step one. Her tone has transformed into a growl. I never realized how much I liked that noise until I heard her simpering with Pompous Jagweed, PJ.
I nod at her, telling her to keep going.
“You don’t get to tell me how I feel, Bailey.”
A few heads around us turn at the rise of Leah’s voice. I stay quiet, letting her internalize her words and her feelings. No one gets to choose her feelings on a subject but her–realizing the truth of that is empowering.
She huffs, blowing out a tired breath. Then, peering over at me, she smacks her third empty glass to the table. “Okay. Let’s dance.” She stands and slips the black sweater from her shoulders and body. That dress hugs her in all the right places. Her bare shoulders from neck to finger are sun-kissed and sweet. She snatches me by the arm, leading me onto the dance floor, where hungry guests everywhere are gathered, talking and dancing.
I swallow, threading one arm around her back as she moves in closer to me. Her ex stands off to our left, next to a woman who is hanging on his arm. I’m not sure Leah notices, but I do. He’s watching Leah—and he’s not thrilled to see her with me.
I’m growing punch-drunk with Leah so close. Her body, mere centimeters from mine, radiates warmth and energy. I’m breathing in cinnamon and sugar with her nearness. Her smooth skin and her soft dress glide beneath my touch.
“For the record, I know you didn’t like it when I sang to you.” I swallow when she peers up, her dark hair cascading in waves down her back. She’s so close, forcing me to notice everything about her: narrow chin, long neck, red, full lips. “I am sorry.”
“So, why’d you do it?”
“Honestly,” I breathe, taking another hit of that cinnamon and sugar perfume wafting off her. “I didn’t know you’d hate it until I’d already started. I saw your face, and it was clear that you weren’t happy about it.”
“But you kept singing. ”
“I was seventeen.” I raise my brows. It’s a lousy but accurate excuse. “And committed. I’m sorry.”
“I know,” she says, and I’m grateful she believes me. “You don’t have to say it anymore.”
“I didn’t realize the repercussions it would have for you.”
She stiffens in my arms, her lips pinching. Her vibe has flipped on me.
Dang. My big mouth.
Read the room, Cooper Bailey—you aren’t seventeen anymore, and the girl isn’t happy.