Chapter 3
C ooper’s stomach was in a knot. Which was stupid when he thought about it. So Zoe was on her way outside to talk to him. So what? They were over. History. His gut shouldn’t be all tied up just to talk to her. If she couldn’t treat him decently, what was it to him?
Yeah. He could keep telling himself that until the waves stopped beating the shore and it still wouldn’t be true.
At this point, he’d be lucky if she showed up. It’d been twelve minutes since she’d said ten.
He made a point of watching the water, of keeping his back to the hotel where Zoe would come from.
Though it was nearly ten thirty and dark, the beach was relatively busy for the hour, with groups and couples wading and splashing, trying to find relief from the hotter-than-usual Texas summer night.
They’d be better off inside by the air conditioner — there was hardly any breeze coming off the water.
“Sorry I’m late.” Zoe came up next to him and startled him, even though he’d been waiting for her.
She held out a bottle of beer to him — his usual brand, just the way he liked it.
In her other hand was a tall, skinny glass with a light-colored liquid in it and a drink umbrella and straw sticking out.
“Thanks,” Cooper said before taking a healthy swig. The ice-cold brew hit the spot, and it couldn’t hurt to relax him a bit. “What’s in yours? Green tea?”
Zoe wasn’t much of a drinker. The health freak in her didn’t sit well with putting alcohol into her body, but every once in a great while, she’d imbibe.
Though her dedication to all things health and nutrition had puzzled him at first, it was one of the things he’d grown to love about her — her steadfastness to her beliefs.
Of course, that was closely related to her stubbornness…
“Margarita,” she said after a sip. “Bartender was out of margarita glasses.”
She needed alcohol to talk to him. Cooper closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as that sank in.
Zoe walked a couple dozen feet toward the waterline and sat down in the dry sand, giving Cooper little choice but to follow. He sat, raised his knees, and braced his elbows on them as the heavy brininess of the air rolled over him.
He watched her profile out of the corner of his eye as the silence between them expanded. She lifted her straw to her lips, and he couldn’t prevent the pang in his chest at the thought of those lips and how familiar they’d once been to him and with him.
“I miss you, Zoe,” he said without hesitation. Judging by the way her eyes slammed shut, he should have hesitated.
“Let’s not go there. There’s no use.”
“What happened to us? We were so close, and now we sit here a foot apart on the beach, but it’s like we’ve got a football field between us.”
She turned her head partway toward him. Her eyes were downcast and so damn sad it took every thread of willpower he could muster not to reach out and brush his fingers over her cheek.
“ Were close,” she said. “Past tense. We weren’t meant to be, Cooper. We’re going in two different directions.”
“Are we?”
Her lids lowered, and her long lashes sparkled in the moonlight. Tears?
Shit. Please, no tears .
“We’ve been over this, Coop. So many times. My life is in Boulder. I can’t leave my clinic — you know what they did for me and how they helped me. And your life is here on the island.”
He’d hoped so hard when she’d finished her doctorate last summer that she would consider moving to San Amaro and starting out her nutritionist career here. He understood about the contacts and the partners she’d joined who’d bent over backwards for her. Understanding didn’t make it any easier.
“You love it here, though,” he said, knowing it was a weak argument.
“I do. But it doesn’t matter. I can’t move here, and you made it clear where you stand when you chose San Amaro over me.”
“I never—” He shook his head, reeling. Chose San Amaro over her?
“Did you not tell me your career is here?”
“Yeah.” His career and, even more important, his home. “Zoe, you know how much my family moved me around when I was a kid. When my dad finally retired from the military and moved us here, one last uprooting, I swore to myself I would die here—”
Zoe put her hand on his thigh. “I know, Cooper.” She nodded sadly. “I get it.” Her tone, though gentle, said that was that.
Was it? Was their breakup solely his fault? She’d never asked him outright to move to Colorado, and he’d never seriously considered it … because of his vow to himself as a teenager tired of not fitting in, of not belonging.
He belonged here. The fire department was his family, his only family now. He owned a condo on the beach, owned it outright, thanks to his parents.
He couldn’t fathom leaving all this behind. Could he?
She turned her head the rest of the way to meet his gaze. “I’m here because I don’t want the awkwardness between you and me to affect Penn.”
“So how do we make it not awkward? I don’t want you to hate me, Zo.”
She dropped her hand from his leg and looked out at the gulf. “I don’t hate you.” Her voice was thick, lower than normal. “I could never hate you. It might be easier if I could.”
Without warning, she stood, then took a long sip of her drink. Cooper got up too, feeling lost. Hopeless.
“Too much tequila in this,” Zoe said with a shudder. “Want it?” She held out the glass.
He took it from her, having no intention of drinking it.
“So…” he said, wanting to say so much but not having a damn clue where to start.
“So … peace? We can act normal for three days, can’t we?”
“Normal?” Normal between them had always been together , from the first day he’d met her, when she’d showed up for a surprise visit after Penn’s back surgery.
“We can get along, I mean.”
“We always have.” Except when the question of long-term plans came up.
Zoe nodded once. “It’ll be okay. We can both do this for Penn. That’s what’s important, right?”
Being able to talk like this was important. Cooper shrugged and attempted a nod, because God knew there were other things that were important too. Like being able to breathe — and right now, he was having a hard time with that.
As Zoe brushed her hands together to get rid of the sand, he struggled to come up with a stall, something to prolong their time together tonight, but … they weren’t together anymore. She was just his roommate’s sister now. Not even really someone he could call a friend … and yet so much more.
“Thanks for coming out here, Zo,” he said, refusing to voice agreement with her last statement. He nodded and swallowed hard against the dread of walking away from her. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”