Chapter 37
STEPHANIE
A small part of me hopes to make him angry. To make him lash out so that I can burn the bridge named Cooper Mallory, walk away, and move on with my life.
Cooper’s eyes dangerously narrow. “Where are the shoes?”
“Why?”
“Where are they, Stephanie?” His voice is a command.
“Probably still at your mom’s house on the kitchen counter.”
He lets out a curse as he grabs my hand and pulls me with him.
“We’re going back to her house, and I’m thinking of burning them.
They’re not worth all this.” He stops abruptly and turns to face me, letting go of my hand.
“I bought them because you lost your shoes and were sad. I wanted to make you happy.” He steps so close to me that I can feel the heat pouring off his body as he reaches up to hold my face in his hands, his touch surprisingly gentle for how intense his eyes are.
“I wanted you to know that when you’re sad, I’ll be sad for you and with you.
” He lets go and paces a few steps away, running both of his hands through his hair before returning.
“And now you’re asking if I expect you to have sex with me? Help me understand.”
“I’m sorry. It’s another stupid question—I shouldn’t have asked.” My voice comes out so weak that I don’t even know if he hears me. I’m so defeated by my own stupidity.
“Stephanie,” he steps close again, and though I can smell the intoxicating scent of his cologne, it doesn’t bring me any happiness right now.
“I told you the absolute truth. You did wake up happier than any woman who has ever been in my bed—including when you were screaming at me.” His voice is still intense.
“Because, Stephanie, I’ve never had another woman in my bed.
And unless some fluke like the other night happens again, there never will be—until I’m a married man and that woman is my wife.
” He pauses to collect himself before going on.
“I know it’s an unconventional decision, but it’s a personal one, so I tend to not broadcast it.
My dad told me once that he made the decision, long before he met my mom, to only ever share a bed with his wife—to be faithful to her even when he didn’t know who she was yet.
I always thought my dad’s way of thinking sounded so romantic.
” He lifts both hands, emphasizing his point.
“So I made the same decision. I’m not saying it’s always been an easy one—and I’m not saying I haven’t kissed my share of women—but it’s a decision I plan on sticking to.
Stephanie, you are literally the only woman I have ever shared a bed with, which makes you the most happy, most mad, and most everything in between of any woman who has ever been in my bed. ”
Not what I expected.
A long moment passes before I say anything.
“I’m sorry.” The built-up tension from the conversation releases, replaced by surprise and regret on my part.
“I didn’t mean to make you share something so personal.
And I didn’t plan on asking you either of those questions in the way I did.
” I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing I could erase this entire situation.
“I’ve handled everything about this so poorly. ”
“Stephanie, what kind of man would ever expect a woman to have sex with him because he gave her a gift?”
“That would be me.”
We both spin around and see Chase.
He’d obviously come out while we were talking, and we hadn’t noticed him. His words were flat. Emotionless.
Cooper’s eyes go back and forth between Chase and me.
Nothing about today has gone how I thought it would, so I shouldn’t be surprised at this new development: Chase spilling details about an incredibly painful part of my life to Cooper. How much more of my crazy is Cooper expected to endure? Is this the straw that makes him leave?
As soon as the thought enters my mind, I realize that I don’t want him to.
I want him to stay. Not only in this parking lot—but in my life.
I don’t know what that means yet, but I want to find out.
How much can Cooper handle? Did my intrusive questions, irrational emotions, and all this Chase drama fracture our new friendship?
No one speaks, and the three of us stand there while the sounds of the city pound like jackhammers in my head. Traffic, horns, and the restless rustling of trees crowd my mind—though unfortunately not enough to drown out this mess.
Then Chase elaborates. “It wasn’t always that way.
It was great at first, right Love?” He turns my way, but I give no answer and fix my stare firmly on the ground.
“Then slowly the fame and money started to run away with me, and I hurt everyone I was close to. But I regret the hurt I caused Stephanie the most.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see him shift his weight and take another small step toward me.
“Stephanie, Love, please look at me.” I can barely meet his stare as another worn-out tear slips down my cheek.
He instinctively moves toward me but stops when Cooper’s body stiffens.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry—that’s the last thing I wanted today.
I need you to know that I’ve changed. When you left me, I was gutted, and I realized the circus I’d turned my life into.
I haven’t been with another woman since you left,” he takes another long, desperate step forward, “and I’ve stopped drinking, gone to therapy, and done everything I can think of to be the man I used to be.
I’m me again for the first time in a long time—the real me.
The me I was when we started.” He desperately taps his fingers on his chest over his heart.
“And the me that stills loves you. I know I can’t make up for the pain I caused, but I need you to know that I’m so sorry, Love.
So, so sorry.” Pain ripples across his face.
He watches me expectantly, waiting for any reply.
Time stretches as I search for something—anything—to say, but I come up completely empty. All I can muster up is the smallest shake of my head.
Chase pinches his eyelids shut and takes several breaths in and out. When he finally blinks, his expression is tortured, begging me to reconsider. I give another shake of my head and look back down.
He turns, dejected, and slowly walks into the building right as Frank, Melodie, Kaylee, and the gang come out, chatting animatedly and seemingly oblivious to the train wreck they walked into.
Frank seems to be the only one who notices us, and he smoothly postures in a grand manner, letting his loud voice pull everyone’s attention toward him and away from us.
“That was a wonderful tour. Wonderful! But I think I’m ready for some lunch.
Pam, girls,” he looks over at the three of them, “why don’t you go get in my car and we’ll go get some grub?
” He tosses his keys to Melodie. “Get the car started, and I’ll be there in three shakes.
” The three of them casually saunter away, chatting as if this were a normal morning—not like they just missed some major drama involving one of the biggest pop stars in the world.
Frank wraps one arm around Alyssa and the other around McKay, pulling them into him, one on each side.
He keeps all of their attention on him, and I don’t think Alyssa and McKay have seen us.
“I haven’t had a proper opportunity to shower the two of you with the thanks and praise you deserve!
So I insist you join us. Insist!” Then he guides them toward the parking garage with him.
Before they all turn the corner, he gives me a quick look—in a way very few would notice—and sends a little wink and nod of his head, as if to say, ‘You got this darlin’. Everyone’s out of your way now.’
Frank worked with alarming efficiency, and I give him a silent thank you as I watch them round the corner and walk out of sight.
Cooper and I are alone again.
I’m so self-conscious and embarrassed that I don’t know where to look, how to stand, or what to do—I simply close my eyes, hoping the world will melt away while I figure out how to recover.
Cooper gently grips my elbow. “Let’s go. We’ll get your car later.”
He takes me to his car and opens the door for me. After he gets in, we drive away. I don’t know where we’re headed, and I don’t care; I sit in the silence hanging between us and stare out the window.
I think back on the day. On my first reaction to the shoes, the tension when Chase showed up outside my car, the electrifying sensation of Cooper kissing me, the thrill when he wanted a repeat performance, and then the last twenty minutes. How has all of this happened in a few short hours?
I lay my head against the window and cry. Shoulder-shaking sobs.
I sob out of pure emotional exhaustion. Sob for all the memories Chase dug up. Sob for the way my mother conditioned me to react in certain situations. And sob because I feel broken.
Cooper drives us to his mom’s house.
I’m completely numb as he walks me into the kitchen. The Jimmy Choo shoe box is still on the counter, staring me down like an evil villain. Cooper pulls a chair out from the kitchen table and guides me to sit.
The sun streams in from the extensive windows, but it doesn’t warm me.
The room is large and open, but I feel small and closed.
My mind is blessedly empty. I have no idea how long I sit there.
Eventually, my attention is pulled to the kitchen, where pleasant aromas have filled the air.
Cooper is chopping up something on a cutting board while a sauce pan and a pot of something boiling are on the stove.
He doesn’t look at me or expect anything from me—he simply goes about his business.
A timer goes off, and he takes what smells like garlic bread out of the oven.
I stand up and move to a barstool at the counter as he dumps whatever he was chopping into the sauce pan, stirs it in, takes the pot of boiling water off the stove, and drains the water to reveal pasta.
He briefly turns his focus to me, then returns to the sauce pan. A few minutes later, he hands me a plate with pasta covered in a homemade alfredo sauce, a few pieces of garlic bread, and a small salad. He makes a plate for himself and comes to sit next to me.
He still doesn’t say anything and starts eating.
“I’m sorry?—”
“Don’t talk.” He points at my plate with his fork. “Eat first.”
I do as I’m told. Then, when the food is gone and he’s cleaned up the kitchen, Cooper picks up the infernal Jimmy Choos and something out of a kitchen cupboard and gestures for me to go out on the back porch.
He follows me outside, and I sit on a patio chair, protectively curling my feet up under me and folding my arms across myself.
The porch is large and covered, with high, vaulted ceilings.
It would be an ideal place to host forty to fifty people with ease.
Patio furniture is strategically placed in different groupings, there are ceiling fans and a mist system to keep away the heat of summer days, and a huge fireplace in the center acts as a focal point to it all—complete with a big-screen TV and a Texas star.
To the side of where I sit is an outdoor kitchen, with everything needed to entertain in style.
Colorful potted plants and flowers of various sizes are scattered throughout, and thick fragrant vines of jasmine wrap around the pillars, their light, delicate aroma filling the air.
Mallory takes the loveseat next to me, sets the box of Jimmy Choos on the ground at his feet, and holds up a lighter.
“Torching these is still a possibility.” He gestures to the shoe box, then sets the lighter on top of it.
Leaning forward, his elbows on his knees and long legs spread slightly apart, he looks me in the eye.
“What do you need to talk about first? Chase from two years ago, Chase from this morning, the shoes, or the fact that I kissed you?”