Chapter 36
COOPER
Islept like absolute shit last night, but how could I not have?
Amara laid next to me, her quiet snores soothing my aching chest.
The two of us have kissed before, but nothing like that. That almost went into uncharted territory.
I was able to finally get some sleep early this morning, waking up with Amara on top of me, her leg tossed over my absolutely raging morning wood.
I tried to get up without waking her. I really did. But she opened her eyes right as I was almost in the clear, and I had to rush out of the room, letting her know I had to go take a shower.
A cold one.
It’s been hard not to picture what happened between us last night.
It’s been hard not to read into it, too.
Especially as she’s curled up in the front seat of my car, her knees tucked into the large t-shirt she’s wearing.
Her hair is in French braids, which I haven’t seen her wear yet.
Not since one of the last summers she spent here.
But what I do have to do today is pretend like my sister’s carefully plotted plan wasn’t a success.
Okay. Maybe she didn’t orchestrate it. Maybe she really was clearing out the house, just like she told me. But thinking that she did it on purpose makes me feel just a little bit better, so that’s what I’m going with.
We get to the bakery early, and while I was totally fine to wait in the car for my sister to show up, Amara had other ideas, getting out without a word.
Instead of following her, I sit back and watch as she walks down the sidewalk, looking at all the businesses lining the road.
She stops in front of one, wrapping her arms around herself.
She’s cold.
I reach into the back seat, grabbing one of my hoodies. Climbing out of the car, I try not to direct too much attention to myself, but as I come up behind her, she turns.
“What—” she eyes my hoodie as I hold it out to her. “Thank you,” she says softly, tugging it over herself.
“See anything interesting?” I ask.
She bites her lip. “No. It’s just nice here. I miss it.”
There’s something magical about beach towns in general, but especially Rehoboth. Although it’s the fall, there are still people out and about on the beach. Shirtless men on a run, or kids getting an early start to causing chaos.
We used to be those kids. Wild and free, running around like we owned the world.
Like nothing else mattered in the whole planet except for what we were doing in that exact moment. It’s hard not to allow the rough edges we form as we age to think of us as selfish. We were just naive to the hurt that life sometimes brings. Malleable to our surroundings and to trauma.
“Sometimes I wish we could go back in time,” she says suddenly. “Like we could just change things.”
“What would you change?” I’m not sure I should have asked it, but she looks at me thoughtfully.
“I’m not even sure. I just think that I’d have taken advantage of my time with you a little more. I keep thinking of ways I could have made you stay.”
I sigh painfully. “Amara, I need you to know—”
“Amara!” a high-pitched voice calls behind us. She turns, watching my sister come barreling down the sidewalk toward us, her arms outstretched. “I can’t believe you’re back here!”
Amara smiles, and they hug, my sister rocking her back and forth, her blonde hair tied in a tight bun at the top of her head.
“I can’t wait to show you the place, come!” she waves us over to one of the shops. The windows have paper behind them so you can’t see in, but when she opens the door, I’m greeted with green walls.
Nearly the same green as Amara’s rug.
Her eyes light up as she looks around, and my sister stands back, beaming with pride.
“Yep. This is my baby.”
“This is so gorgeous,” Amara says with a smile.
“Isn’t she? God, I love it so much.”
“Are you almost done with it, do you think?”
Instead of the traditional seating, her bakery has comfy couches and a wall with smaller tables and chairs. It does look cozy, though I’m not quite sure it’s my scene.
“I think I need to add more wall décor, but other than that, I think it’s nearly done! I’m so excited for it.”
“You should be!”
The girls start talking about my sister’s event they’re planning, and my brain starts to spin.
It’s a lot, being back here. Seeing my sister stuck here. She’s happy, thank God. But back then, it always felt like she secretly wanted to get out, and I was stopping her.
I just wish things were different.
“So, I think that having food over here at the smaller tables will be really great, mostly because it’ll force people into this middle section to mingle, and then you’ll have a DJ over here, and someone making coffee behind the counter, right?”
“Yes. And espresso martinis.”
“Perfect.”
Amara takes out her phone and films the whole bakery, the focus on her face pulling at my heartstrings.
I haven’t actually gotten to see her in her element. I know she took some time off to do the show, only taking calls to make sure the few events she had booked were going smoothly.
From what I heard from the guys before all of this, she worked pretty much around the clock to make this happen for her. She’s always had a crazy work ethic.
Once you work hard enough, you start paying other people to do the work for you, and you can take a bit of a backseat. And while I know from our conversations that she’s itching to get back to work here soon, it’s also been good for her.
When she finishes up, the two women sit on one of the couches, coffees in their hands, and discuss a little more about the party.
What kind of food she’s going to want, what catering places are around, because Amara can’t bring her kitchen, which she rents for her business, all the way here, and other small details they have to get nailed down before moving forward.
When they’re done, my sister sends us off with an absolutely ginormous box of baked goods.
“Lord knows I don’t need them,” she tells us. “I’ve been testing out different recipes, trying to see if I can come up with something really fun for opening week. I’m buried under baked goods.
Amara has her mouth full the second her seatbelt is buckled. “These are so buttery,” she moans, her eyes rolling into the back of her head.
I chuckle, reaching for the box. She allows me to pick one before yanking it back.
“Were we supposed to film today?” Amara asks, eyeing the vans waiting at the house as we pull in.
I park, getting out. We both round the house, trying to see where everyone is.
“What the hell?” Amara murmurs.
I’ll be honest, I completely forgot that I asked them to set this up. It was a surprise for me too.
I grab her hand, leading her onto the beach. It’s chilly and a bit windy, but everything feels special when Amara is giving me the time of day.
A low table is set up in the middle of the sand, blankets all around it weighed down, I’m assuming, by sandbags. A bouquet of hydrangeas sits to the side. When we get to it, I pick it up and give it to her.
Amara’s eyes brim with tears. “Why are you doing this?” she whispers. But her eyes glance past me, spotting the cameras.
“We had to pick out dates, and when I learned that we had to come here, production asked me if I wanted them to set something up.”
She nods, pulling me in for a hug. She hides her face in my shirt, but I can feel her shake.
Before we can adjust, the music starts.
The same song that Amara walked down the aisle to.
“Are you kidding me?” she says through tears, looking around.
“Is that a happy are you kidding me, or an angry one?” I wince.
She slaps my chest. “I still can’t believe you remembered this is my song.”
“I remember everything about you like it was yesterday.” I take her hand, leading her to the side before placing my hand on her waist. “This isn’t just for the show,” I whisper, grateful that they don’t have microphones on us at this moment. “I need you to know how sorry I am.”
Her brown eyes look golden in the late morning sun, her bronzed skin glowing.
Before I know it, she’s kissing me, peppering them along my jaw until she gets to the corner of my mouth. She pauses, pulling back to look at me.
But I can’t take it.
With a hand cupping the back of her head, I pull her back into me, my nose brushing hers before our lips clash in a passionate, controlled kiss.
As much as I enjoy it, I keep reminding myself that there are cameras on us. They can have this. They can’t have the passion from last night.
We’ve spent the better part of this experience faking a great relationship, but I want the real thing just for myself.
My fingers tangle in her hair at the base of her neck, tugging slightly, and she moans into my mouth, her hands running up the side of my torso, burning in the cold wind.
And suddenly, I want nothing more than to have all of her.
Every single inch.
I break from the kiss, looking around.
Fuck all of this.
Amara lets out a small scream as I scoop her up, making a beeline for the house.
“But the pastries!” she says, pouting. “And those beautiful flowers.”
“I’ll buy you your own personal bakery and thousands of those flowers,” I growl, slamming the door behind us and locking it. I head to the other door, ensuring it’s locked too.
Amara’s fingers wrap around my neck as she pulls herself up, kissing the tender skin. I feel myself growing harder and harder with want, and when I place her on my bed, she’s instantly lifting my shirt.
But she pauses, her eyes widening as she stares at my ribcage, and my veins turn to ice.
“What is this?” she breathes.
I shift nervously from foot to foot. “A tattoo…” I trail off, not knowing what more to say.
“Why would you get this?” She looks at me with confusion, an anger simmering just underneath.
“Because I needed to be reminded.”
“Reminded of what, Cooper?”
I swallow. “I don’t know. I just needed to be reminded that love exists, I think.” Even if it was gone, I needed to be reminded of what once was.
My eyes squeeze shut, and I will all of this to be over. I knew she was going to be upset. I’m so stupid for getting so wrapped up in the moment, I didn’t even think about this.
Her fingers touch the tattoo, and I nearly jump out of my skin, a full-body tremor quaking through me.
Her fingers trace the letters, her eyes glassy, as if lost to the memories of us. Which ones, I’d love to know. I wish I knew.
The silence becomes unbearable.
“Can you say something?” I whisper, willing her to scream at me.
Anything would be better than this.
“I just—”
And the tears start flowing.
Amara crumples, and I catch her just in time before she hits the floor. I pick her up, holding her in my lap as I sit on the bed. She grasps my neck, her whole body shaking as she sobs.
I don’t say anything to stop it. I know her well enough not to try.
I just rock her, squeezing her to me, and let her cry.
The minutes pass by slowly, and when she’s calming down, her red eyes stare up at me. “I want to know why.”
“Why?”
“I want to know why you stopped talking to me.” Her voice is quiet. Unsure.
“Because you deserved better.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
My head starts swimming, and that familiar sense of confusion starts to settle in.
“I tried, Amara. I promise you. But between helping Natalia with Grandpa and trying to meet his expectations with getting into college, and everything in between, it all just spiraled. I wanted nothing more than to talk to you. I wanted nothing more than to have you. But I everything was too much, and I just shut down, and I’m going to hate myself for it forever.
” I feel like I can’t think straight. I can’t decipher my thoughts, and my heart is beating out of my chest, and—and—
“Cooper,” Amara interrupts, and the voices quiet. “I’m here. It’s okay. Just calm down.” She wraps her arms around me, pulling me in tightly.
“I wanted nothing more than to talk to you. I thought about you all the time,” I told her honestly. “And not forcing myself to answer those letters is one of my biggest regrets. By the time I could, you hated me.”
Amara looks into my eyes, grasping my face in both of her hands. “I could never have hated you, Cooper. Not a single day in my life. I didn’t want to talk to you because I knew the second I did, I was going to fall for you all over again.”
Heat swirls in my stomach.
She looks down at my torso. “You really got that tattooed on you?”
I nod, biting my cheek.
When I impulsively decided to get my sleeve done, I also decided to add another little thing.
I took Amara’s first letter she sent me to the tattoo parlor, having them trace her handwriting.
When I see you, I see home.
At that time, I was only seeing her in passing. At Lulu’s, or at events she attended with the other girls.
It always hurt. Every single time.
Because every single time I saw her, I couldn’t shut out the voices. The memories and the emotions that came with them.
Our night on the snowy beach. Our movie nights. How much she loved my grandpa.
She was home. Whether she wanted to be or not, and whether she hated me or not, she was always going to be home for me.
“I’m so angry with you,” Amara starts to cry again.
“I’m sorry,” I plead.
She shakes her head. “I’ve spent so long thinking you never cared—”
And she kisses me. Furious, passionate kisses that leave us both gasping for breath. She moves to straddle me, and I grab her waist, pulling her in closer as I tilt my head up to get a better angle.
Amara’s fingers hook into my shirt, taking it all the way off this time. She pulls away, looking at the tattoo again before angrily crashing her lips back to mine.
I practically rip my hoodie off her before tossing her shirt with it, leaving her in just a small bra.
I lock eyes with Amara as I move the bra to the side, flicking a finger over her hardening nipple. Her eyes close, her head tossing back with pleasure.
“Do you want me to keep going?” I ask, wanting to be sure.
“Yes, Henry. You owe me.”
Fair enough.
My lips are instantly around her as she pulls herself closer to me, my teeth grazing her nipple as my tongue flicks it. Her fingers tighten in my hair, pulling it almost painfully, and I moan, the vibrations making her do the same.
“Harder,” she whispers, and if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s listen when Amara asks me to do something.
My teeth clamp down harder as I suck, and I watch her reactions. When her eyes roll to the back of her head, I replace my mouth with my hand, rolling her nipple as I focus on the other one.
Amara starts to rock her hips into me, and I know it’s time to move on.
I can take my time later.
I rip her bra off, adding it to the pile on the floor, before flipping her over. Her legs are positioned over my shoulder, and I grab her ankle, peppering kisses on her skin until I reach her shorts.
She starts pushing them down, and I rip them off within a second.