Chapter 22
AMARA
“I’m pretty sure they scheduled this the first week of practice to piss Coach off,” Cooper mutters as he holds up his production-approved outfit in the mirror.
His hair is getting scruffy, and I try to shake off the swirl of heat deep in my belly for the millionth time.
“I know you’re tired. Did Eddy tell you how long we have to stay?”
He winces. “First, he did pull me aside to ask if I could get you to stop calling him that.”
I roll my eyes.
“Second, we have to stay the whole time. Something about spending too much money on us and us not delivering.”
I cross my arms. “If I didn’t know that it would end up with us being set up and looking horrible, I’d tell him that maybe if he produced better, we’d do something.”
Cooper looks at me dead in the eyes. “I think they’d roll my grandpa’s casket in here.”
“Cooper!”
He shrugs.
“It’s true. He’d hate that.”
It’s been a few weeks since the fluffernutter incident, and while not a ton has changed around here, everything has.
We’ve fallen into a cozy silence with one another. An understanding that while we may not like where we’re at right now, we can at least tolerate each other.
The closest we’ve come to another fight has been Cooper getting me up at the ass crack of dawn the other day to go for a run on Federal Hill. It was filmed. Apparently, it was Eddy’s idea.
Fuck that guy.
Small things have been done around the house. A new rug in the family room that Cooper originally said looked like it was dipped in vomit, but eventually came around to and said he loved, new pillows, and some thrifted modern art on the walls, thanks to some help from Isla.
But I think the most that has changed is me. While I still hold my grudges, and there’s a lot inside of me that still needs to be pieced back together, I’ve worked past at least some of it.
Over time, I felt like I was protected by these hard, thick outlines. It made it easier not to color outside of them. Don't get too messy. Don't get too uncomfortable.
But it feels like they’re softening. Letting more color in. And while that may be good, it’s also scary.
For the last week, Cooper has been testing our boundaries little by little. I feel like he doesn’t think I’ve noticed, but I definitely have.
His choice of joke would have bothered me more if it weren’t the same dark humor that made me fall for him as a kid. Something I haven’t heard out of him in a long time.
“I’m a little nervous,” I admit shyly. He immediately turns, shirt still held up to his chest. “And that looks really good.”
He looks down. “Well, thanks.” He puts it down and takes a seat next to me. “Why would you be nervous?”
“I don’t know. I’m not great at making friends. We don’t know anyone.”
It’s true. I’ve had the same friends I’ve had since I moved here, and I made them because I already knew Mila. Then, I met Briar through Isla, who was dating her brother, and Izara through Briar.
Cooper’s face twists as if he smells the wet cat food I made him take a whiff of the other day. “Amara, I know it sucks, but also, I don’t think any adult has ever been good at making friends. Like, ever.”
“You’re great at making friends!” I throw my arms out in frustration, but he shakes his head.
“I’m good at socializing and getting people to like me. Those are two very different things. You can have hundreds, if not thousands, of acquaintances who don’t know you. A friend is something entirely different.”
Before I can say it, it escapes my mouth. “I feel like we’re acquaintances.”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah. We used to be best friends.”
“We used to be almost more,” I fire back.
Cooper studies me, but I study him right back. Every angular curve of his face. Every freckle. If I were brave enough, I’d let my eyes trail down his neck to his shoulders, and down his tattooed arms.
“But now we’re married,” he says slowly. “And all I want is to know you again.”
“You’re getting to know me.”
“Not in the way I want.”
My heart stops as my blood runs cold, the rushing in my ears threatening to pull me under.
“What?”
“You don’t think I want to know you?”
“I don’t—”
“Amara, I’ve spent the last several weeks trying to figure out what I can do to make sure you’re in my life again.
To pay off the debt my past actions have racked up.
To finally be free and to have you in my life to—” he pauses, his thumb running along his lip.
“To love you in whatever way we deem fit after all of this.”
He takes a deep breath as I sit there, shell-shocked, just trying to find my pulse again.
“It hurt every single time I had to see you over the last few years. Every time. I can’t even imagine how you felt.
How much it hurt you. I’m just,” he tosses his hands up before they land at his sides with a thwap.
“I’m just trying to figure out how we can even be friends again. Because God, do I want that.”
I gaze down at my hands, tracing my lifeline with my right thumb over and over and over until it starts to feel numb. “I want to be friends too,” I say quietly.
I leave him in his room to get ready, the door quietly shutting behind me.
Lindsey gave me clothes to wear too. Something about making sure that everyone looks good for the camera, or that they fit the narrative that’s being painted for us.
But I think that my dress is an olive branch. A plea, of sorts, for me to start making their lives a little easier.
I haven’t decided if I want to give in quite yet.
Stepping into the dress, I immediately gasp, because it’s no lie when I say this is the most gorgeous piece of art I’ve ever placed on my body.
Deep blue, and covered from top to bottom in beading. There’s a slit up to my lower hip on the right side, and the bottom is completely lined with silver beaded flowers.
The seconds we have to get ready are ticking, so I grab the strappy heels they had delivered, throw them on, and grab the bag that goes with them, and head out to the hall to find Cooper. The only thing I have left is to get my dress zipped.
I nearly run into him.
Stumbling back, Cooper hits the wall with a thud. “What are you doing?” I ask, confused.
But he doesn’t answer. Instead, he’s plastered to the wall, a distant look on his face as he stares at me.
“Cooper?” I ask, snapping at him.
“Yeah?”
“You okay?”
“No.”
“What do you need?”
He shakes his head, his eyes widening as he scans me from head to toe. “I need you to put a bag over yourself. Pronto.”
Blush creeps up my chest and into my cheeks. “Friends don’t say that to friends,” I whisper.
“Friends don’t do a lot of things we talked about doing once,” he throws back.
A shiver runs up my spine.
“Can you zip it for me?” I barely bring myself to ask.
He looks like he’d rather do anything else, but as he brushes my curls over my shoulder, his warm fingers leaving lingering butterfly kisses in their wake, I’d rather him do anything else.
What are you even thinking?
This man is on your permanent shit list.
I remind myself once again how hurt I’ve been. I don’t need to feel that ever again, especially not after all of this is over and he goes to bang his next interior designer.
Why are feelings so god damn complicated?
Why is history so damn complicated?
Cooper takes his time with the zipper, which makes it all the more treacherous, and when he’s done, I can feel his breath on my neck.
“You ready to go?” he asks, not moving an inch.
It takes everything in me to take a step away. “Lindsey said that we need to be in the car they’re sending by five, and it’s four fifty. We should probably get downstairs.
Cooper nods, grabbing his wallet and keys and shoving them into the pockets of his dress pants as I pray with everything in me that tonight is easy.
“I’m so glad that you could all make it tonight,” Joanna Day says, holding up a glass.
“You have all been such a wonderful part of this season, and we have so much more to go. I just want to thank every one of you for being a part of this show and allowing us to play a small role in the rest of your lives.”
I take a sip of my wine so I don’t scoff.
“We have you gathered tonight so you can socialize with the other couples, get some food and drinks, and have some fun!”
Other than for a select few events, we don’t generally get together with other couples. They’re scattered throughout the state, with the show moving from one corner of the country to another each season.
It’s been only about ten minutes of being here, and I’m already over it.
Cooper stands to my right, his hand placed politely on my left hip, and I can feel the lights and cameras on us as I down the rest of my wine.
He looks down at me, his eyebrow raised the slightest bit.
I smile sweetly at him. “I’m just nervous.”
I can tell he wants to roll his eyes so badly.
I’m nervous, but I also know that the last thing I should be doing right now is downing a drink.
What happened to personal responsibility?
She can’t come to the fucking phone.
The second Joanna and Dylan release us from their little spells, the men circle Cooper, pressing into me as they go to slap him on the back and tell him how well he’s done for their fantasy team in past years.
Last year, Isla was showing me her fantasy league when a trade request came in. Briar wanted Leo and was offering her Cooper.
I had reached over and hit “reject.” Best feeling in the whole world.
But one of the worst feelings in the world is being crushed by a million dudes trying to compliment your fake husband for the way he throws a ball.
Or, wait, does he catch it? I’m not sure. Maybe throwing is Leo’s job.
“I’m going to head over there,” I say to no one in particular, squeezing out of the mass of sweat and spray on deodorant that I just know has something like a tiger or shark on the label.
Coughing, I gather myself and head for another drink. I’m going to need a lot tonight.
“Hi!”
I whip around, finding a brunette behind me, her large blue eyes shiny in the fairy lights.