Chapter Eight
Allegra
I sat at my desk, staring at the discharge paperwork in Cooper’s file, my stomach fluttering with a mix of anticipation and dread. In five minutes, he would arrive for what would be our final session, though he didn’t know that yet. After weeks of remarkable progress, it was time. I should have felt proud, accomplished. Instead, I felt an inexplicable sense of loss.
The door opened, and Cooper strode in, his limp now barely noticeable. He flashed me that charming smile that always made my heart skip a beat.
“Miss Prescott,” he greeted me, his voice warm. “The receptionist said to head on back. Ready to put me through my paces?”
I pushed his discharge forms deeper into his file, not quite ready to broach that subject. “Of course. Let’s start with your warm-up routine.” I exited my office, leading him to the gym.
As Cooper moved through his exercises, I couldn’t help but notice how fluid his movements had become. The stiffness and pain that had marked our early sessions were gone, replaced by strength and grace. It was gratifying to see, even though it reminded me that our time together was drawing to a close.
“You know, Miss Prescott,” Cooper said as he completed a set of leg presses, “I have a question for you.”
I helped him adjust the weight, careful to maintain a professional distance. “Oh? What would you like to know?”
“Well, for starters, your accent. It’s not quite French, is it? There’s something else there.”
I smiled, surprised he had noticed. “Good ear. It’s Italian, or at least partly. My mother was Italian.”
“Was?” he asked softly.
I nodded, feeling the familiar pang of loss. “She passed away when I was very young. I was raised by my grandparents in Italy.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Cooper said, his voice genuinely sympathetic. “And your father?”
I tensed slightly, memories of my last encounter with my father at the gala flashing through my mind. “He’s not in the picture,” I said curtly.
Cooper seemed to sense my discomfort and quickly changed the subject. “So you grew up in Italy? That must have been beautiful.”
Grateful for the shift, I smiled. “It was. My grandparents had a villa in Tuscany, surrounded by vineyards. I spent my summers running through the grape vines, helping with the harvest. It was...peaceful.”
As Cooper moved to the exercise bike, I found myself elaborating, painting a picture of my childhood for him. “The villa was this beautiful old stone building, probably hundreds of years old. It had these thick walls that kept it cool even in the hottest summers. My bedroom window looked out over the vineyards, and I used to wake up to the sound of birds singing in the olive groves.”
Cooper listened intently as he pedaled. “It sounds ideal. Did you ever consider staying there? Taking over the vineyard?”
I shook my head, a hint of sadness creeping into my voice. “I thought about it. But after my grandparents passed away, it...it wasn’t the same. Plus, I couldn’t afford it. So, I started my studies in physical therapy.”
“So you came to Paris,” Cooper said.
“So I came to Paris,” I agreed. “It was a big change, but I fell in love with the city. It has its own kind of magic, you know?”
Cooper nodded, a faraway look in his eyes. “I know exactly what you mean.”
As he finished up on the bike, I couldn’t help but ask, “What about you, Mr. Moreau? Have you always lived in Paris?”
“Born and raised,” he said with a hint of pride. “Though my childhood was a bit different from yours. No vineyards or olive groves for me.”
“Oh?” I prompted, genuinely curious.
He moved to the weight machine, adjusting the settings as he spoke. “My mom died, so I had to grow up fast. Took on odd jobs, anything to help with the bills.”
I felt a surge of empathy. “That must have been difficult.”
He shrugged, though ancient hurt lingered in his expression. “It was what it was. It’s actually how I met Steele. We started working together, and well...the rest is history.”
“And now you’re friends,” I said, remembering their interaction at the gala. A thought occurred to me. “Speaking of partners, how did Steele meet Ashlynn? She’s American, isn’t she? It’s not every day you meet an American in Paris who ends up engaged to a British aristocrat.”
Cooper chuckled, a fond look crossing his face. “Ah, that’s quite a story. Let’s just say it involved a case of revenge, a stolen painting, and a chase across the globe.”
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “That sounds...exciting.”
“It was,” Cooper agreed, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “But it’s a long story, probably best saved for another time.”
But I knew that there wouldn’t be another time. Not after I discharged him.
As we finished the last of his exercises, I knew I couldn’t delay any longer. I pulled his file closer, my heart heavy with what I needed to say.
“Mr. Moreau,” I began, trying to keep my voice steady, “there’s something we need to discuss.” I pulled out his progress notes, more for something to do with my hands than out of necessity. “You’ve made excellent progress. Your range of motion has improved significantly, and your strength is nearly back to pre-injury levels. I believe you’re ready to continue your rehabilitation independently.”
Cooper leaned back in his chair, his brow wrinkling. “Are you saying you’re discharging me?”
I nodded, ignoring the slight pang in my chest. “Yes. You’ve achieved all the goals we set at the beginning of your treatment. You know the exercises, and you’re more than capable of continuing them on your own.”
He was quiet for a moment, studying me intently. “And what if I don’t want to be ready?”
My heart pounded for a few seconds, the beat turning from steady to a runaway train at his words. I quickly regained my composure and brought out my professional tone. “Mr. Moreau, you’re more than ready. Your progress has been remarkable. Unless there’s something you haven’t told me about your condition?”
He shook his head, a coy smile playing on his lips. “No, no. It’s just...I’ve grown rather fond of…our little sessions.”
I felt a blush creeping up my cheeks and quickly looked down at my notes. He somehow managed to make our appointments sound like…well, like something sexual or even dirty. “Well, that’s...that’s very kind of you to say. But I assure you, you don’t need me anymore.”
“Maybe not as a therapist,” he said softly, causing me to look up. Our eyes met, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
He stood up, toweling off the light sheen of sweat from his brow. “Just one more question.” His voice was light but his look piercing. “Now that I’m no longer your patient, would you consider going to a wedding with me? As…my date?”
I froze, and I swore my heart actually skipped a beat. For a moment, I let myself imagine it—Cooper’s undivided attention, the chance to explore this undeniable attraction between us. But then reality crashed in.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Moreau,” I said, hating the formal tone of my voice. “But that would be unethical. Even though you’re no longer my patient, it’s generally advised not to form personal relationships with a client, former or otherwise.”
Disappointment flashed across Cooper’s face, quickly replaced by his usual charismatic smile. “Of course. I understand completely. Can’t blame a guy for trying, though, right?”
I managed a small smile, even though I felt crushed at my own answer. “No, I suppose not.”
As I watched Cooper gather his things and head for the door, I felt a sense of regret wash over me. Was I making a mistake? But no, I told myself firmly. This was the right decision, the professional decision. My career was the most important thing to me. Besides, what future was there with a man like Cooper? He seemed to have a streak of danger within him, something I was innately aware of from spending time around my father. Whatever his business was, I had a feeling it wasn’t clean. Breaking my professional boundaries, and, probably my heart, wasn’t worth a couple of dates and maybe a few fun nights. I was certain Cooper wasn’t the long-term dating type. That was probably why I was so shocked when I had seen him with Ashlynn. He was a lone shark.
“Take care of yourself, Mr. Moreau,” I said as he reached the door.
He turned back, his hand on the doorknob. “You too. And who knows? Maybe our paths will cross again someday.”
With a final smile, he was gone, leaving me alone with the lingering scent of his cologne and a hollow feeling in my chest. I sank into a chair, letting out a long breath. It was over. Cooper Moreau was no longer my patient.
So why did it feel like I’d just lost something…important?
I sat in the gym for a long moment, my mind replaying our final session. His animated response when I shared memories of Italy. The gentle teasing in his voice when he mentioned Steele and Ashlynn’s story. The flash of vulnerability when he spoke about his mother.
It struck me then how little I really knew about Cooper Moreau. Our relationship had been strictly professional, yet somehow, he had managed to get under my skin in a way no other patient ever had. Was it his charm? His mysterious air? Or was it something deeper, a connection I couldn’t quite explain or even fully understand?
Shaking off my thoughts, I went back to my office and sat down at my computer in order to finalize Cooper’s discharge papers. As I typed, I couldn’t help but wonder if I would see Cooper again. And if I did, would I be strong enough to resist the pull I felt towards him?
I thought about the gala, how handsome he had looked in his tuxedo, how easy and natural it had felt to be in his arms as we danced. But I also remembered the look in his eyes when he spoke about his business, the air of danger that seemed to cling to him like a second skin. Cooper Moreau was a man of contradictions, and I wasn’t sure I was equipped to handle all that he represented.
Still, as I closed his file for the last time, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t really the end of our story. It was just the beginning of a new chapter. A chapter that, despite my best efforts and professional ethics, I found myself longing to read.
With as much self-discipline as I could muster, I turned my thoughts back to my work. I had other patients to focus on, other lives to help improve. I couldn’t afford to dwell on what might have been. But as I prepared for my next appointment, I allowed myself one last moment of weakness, one last what-if.
What if I had said yes? What if I had thrown caution to the wind and taken a chance on Cooper Moreau? What kind of adventure might we have embarked on together?
A small part of me, a part I tried hard to ignore, was already hoping that I might somehow see Cooper Moreau again.