Chapter 18
COOPER
Iwatch her as she goes. Her curls bouncing behind her with each step. Fluffernutter is hot on her heels, ready to get away from me.
I can’t fix the past, no matter how much I want to.
Grabbing a drink, I head to my room, closing the door quietly behind me.
And I call Natalia.
“No, Cooper. I’m not picking up your clothes from the dry cleaner again. I’m halfway home.”
“That was literally one time,” I groan, throwing myself back onto my bed.
“One time too many.” She pauses. “What’s up?”
“She hates me.”
“I don’t thin—”
“Even when she’s being nice to me, I can feel it. She’d rather be doing literally anything else. She really, really hates me.”
I can hear my sister sigh as she turns her turn signal. “Coop. You were going through a lot. I know that.”
“Yeah but—”
“But she doesn’t. You didn’t mean it. But that doesn’t negate the feelings she has about feeling abandoned, either.
I feel guilty, too. I had so much going on with Grandpa that I didn’t keep in contact the way I should have.
But you had all of that, and getting through school, college, football, all of it. ”
I stay quiet, my right arm flung out to the side. I grip the blanket, running my thumbs over it.
“I just wish we weren’t in this position,” I admit with defeat.
I can practically hear the shrug. “Sometimes these things happen for a reason. Now’s your chance to make things right. I’ve missed her. I wouldn’t be shocked if she has some resentment toward me, too.”
This is bigger than just me, I’m realizing.
I should have realized that sooner.
Amara lost many people when I retreated. She had a close relationship with my grandpa, whom she couldn’t say goodbye to. She was close with my sister, too. And they haven’t seen each other in years.
She loved my family as much as I did.
“Look,” Natalia says softly. “I know that girl’s heart. And I know yours. You’re going to have a lot of making up to do, but if anyone can do it, it’s you.”
My head starts spinning. “What do I have to do?”
“Be yourself. Understand her. Give her time. Make sure she knows where your heart is. She’s guarded, and rightfully so.”
I don’t respond right away; instead, I let that sit between us. She doesn’t push me to speak, instead allowing me to ruminate on it. Sometimes it takes me a moment to figure out what I'm thinking. To pull them apart and place them in an order that makes sense.
My thoughts are so loud that I can’t differentiate them.
“I feel like I hurt everyone,” I whisper finally.
“Maybe,” Natalia confirms. “But we all do at some point, right? We all let people down. Maybe we don’t show up as much as we'd like. I think what a lot of us don’t understand is that while our worlds are crumbling, life keeps going for everyone else.
Most of the time, no one else really knows what’s going on in our heads.
We can accidentally hurt people while dealing with our own grief.
Or our own internal battles. It doesn’t make either feeling any less valid. ”
“I love you.” I don’t know what else to say.
“I love you too. But all we can do is survive and make things as right as we can. We only have so much time in this world, and if you have regrets, it’s important to figure out what is going to make your life exciting.”
She takes a deep breath, and I can hear her car turn off, the crackles of the speakerphone turning crisp.
“If there’s one thing I learned from our experience, it’s that there’s always going to be a last time we do something.
Things we don’t even think about. The last time we hear a certain song.
The last time we laugh at a joke. The last time our fingers are strong enough to open a soda can.
Those are almost more heartbreaking than hearing someone’s voice for the last time.
” Her voice is sad, breaking at the end as tears well in my eyes.
“I think we take a lot of that for granted. I know I did. I know that you did too.”
“I missed so much,” I whisper. “I’m terrified that he hates me.”
“He doesn’t,” she says quickly, knowing exactly what I’m thinking. “You were right where he wanted you to be.”
I breathe deeply. “You’re my little sister. I should have been there for you. And for him.”
“Cooper,” she says sternly. “That man would be haunting you from the grave every single day if you weren’t exactly where you were. I’ve never seen someone believe in someone more than he believed in you. I promise you, with all my heart, that he was okay with it.”
“But you?”
She waits a beat too long to respond, the air hanging between our silver string of connection thick and heavy with grief we still haven’t quite worked through. “I handled it. And I’ll never think poorly of you for not being there more.”
“Okay,” I whisper, not feeling like it’s enough of a response.
“Cooper,” she starts, “I need you to know that I’m proud of you, okay?”
“Push it a little to the left,” Leo whispers into the phone.
I stop what I’m doing, a little worried. “Is your phone in your mouth?”
“Why would you think that?”
“It sounds like you’re deep throating the phone.”
“Well, I could just hang up.”
Rolling my eyes in annoyance, I continue setting the things on the counter. I’m hoping that if Amara is up to it, she’ll start helping me decorate, and I can get an actual dining room table, but for now, this will do.
“Yeah, just like that,” Leo grunts.
“Okay, you have to stop.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
I stand back, taking a look at my work from the front.
“And you’re wearing those pants?” Leo says in shock. “You’re really trying to butter her up. Good for you.”
While I didn’t intentionally wear these pants, I can’t say I didn’t glance at myself in the mirror, impressed with how absolutely large and scrumptious my ass looks.
I really hope she notices.
“Alright. Everything look good?” I ask, desperate to get off the phone. I need to get curtains.
“Yeah, it looks perfect. I wish you luck, dude.”
Hanging up before Leo starts anything else, I take one last look before finishing breakfast.
I hear her before I see her.
“What’s this?” Amara asks suspiciously, stopping the second she gets into the kitchen.
I shove my hands into my back pockets to keep myself from itching nervously. “I figured I owed you a little something,” I tell her simply. “Flowers and breakfast are the least I can do.”
She looks from me to the breakfast on the counter, puzzled. “Oh,” she replies softly. “Thank you.”
Amara takes a seat at the counter, pulling one of the plates toward her.
I stand on the other side, shoveling egg into my mouth as I watch her pick at her toast.
“So, what’s on the agenda today?”
She shrugs. “Isla has her showing today. I was going to get there early.”
The one she didn’t want me at, I remind myself.
We do not have to spend every waking moment together. In fact, it’s probably much, much better for my health that we don’t.
“Oh, I got Fluffernutter something,” I say quickly, reaching into the bag next to the door.
I toss the small pouch of treats into her hands, and she smiles. “He loves this flavor.”
The admission makes my heart swell.
Amara looks around. “Watch this.” She shakes the bag once, ripping the tab at the top off to open it.
She shakes it again.
I can’t even really make out the shape of her cat as he barrels into the room like a bat out of hell.
He comes to a quick standstill in front of us, his legs slightly spread and his eyes wild, only slightly resembling what I probably looked like when I was little and had to tell my mom I threw up all over my bed.
Do all cats look like that?
Is it guilt, or gluttony?
Amara quickly picks a couple of treats out of the pouch and tosses them carefully to the floor, where they’re instantly gobbled up.
“Why does he sound like a turkey with rabies?” I mutter under my breath.
Amara’s face twists with annoyance. “I don’t think turkeys get rabies. They’re birds.”
“Okay,” I raise my hands in defeat. “It sounded like what I imagined a turkey would sound like if it got rabies. Better?”
Her lips thin, but I watch as the left side of them fights to keep steady, a laugh three seconds from overcoming her.
“How many rabies-infested birds have you been around? Actually, scratch that. How many turkeys have you been around?”
“That,” I point at her with my fork. “Is top secret, and how dare you ask me?”
Her smile wins, taking over her entire face, dazzling me.
I can’t breathe.
“Well, I’m sorry to question you, Cooper. But I do have to start getting ready.”
I notice that her plate is empty for the first time, and I’m just happy she liked my food enough to finish it.
“Oh,” I say simply. “Well, I hope you have fun.”
She turns to climb out of the stool, but stops, clearly thinking about something. “Do you want to come with me?” she says suddenly, as if she doesn’t say it quickly enough, she wouldn’t say it at all.
I feel like someone dumped water on me. Like I’m waking from a dream, and I don’t know where I am.
“Is this a trick question?” I ask hesitantly.
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Are you—are you trying to be friends?”
She considers this for a moment. “No. But while we’re stuck in this mess, I want to take advantage of it.”
My face obviously gives away my feelings, because she frowns. “Cooper, you can’t possibly think that I would just forgive everything.”
I look around, feeling like I was punched in the gut. I knew this. I’m not sure why it hurts so much to hear it out loud. “I was just hoping, is all. I’d like to be friends with you again.”
“I can’t trust what you tell me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too.”
It becomes increasingly clear that Amara was asked to bring me along so they could film. Not out of the goodness of her heart, or because she wants to be friends.
“How are you doing?” Isla asks, wrapping her in a tight hug.
Her eyes dart to me as a cameraman walks around us, getting all the angles they possibly can.
“I’m doing amazing.”
She’s lying. I know that. And by the way Isla’s eyes flicker to mine, her eyebrows twitching inward, I can tell she knows too.
“Anyway,” Amara says before anyone can ask her anything else. “This is so beautiful!”
Isla has been working on a new series of paintings involving roses.
The entire place is covered in large canvases featuring roses of all colors, in what seems like a million displays.
In one, a water droplet hangs to the edge of a petal.
In another, a hand reaches down to gently pick one from the bouquet.
Next to nearly every piece is a giant vase of roses.
“Thank you! This one has been a long time coming. Really tested me, you know? I’m so used to doing landscapes now.”
There was a painting about a year ago now that featured Owen’s bare ass. I can’t unsee it, not that I’d want to.
“It’s amazing. Seriously.”
Looking around, I spot the table holding a million bottles of wine. I reach for Amara’s arm, the warmth of her skin sending a shock through my fingertips. “I, uh, do you want a drink?” I ask, my lips close enough to her ear that all I can smell is her cherry perfume.
It’s intoxicating.
She takes in a sharp breath. “Sure,” she says on an exhale.
I head over, grabbing two wine glasses between my fingers.
As I pour my glass, I steal a glance over at her, watching as she shakes her head, laughing with her friends.
And when I catch her eye, our gazes locking across the crowded, buzzing room, I feel a jolt of electricity run through me.
I’m desperate for her to look at me like that in private.