Chapter 43
COOPER
She stares back at me in silence.
“Excuse me?” Her voice is a choked whisper.
Bad choice of words on my part.
“NO! Not what I meant.” I let out a sharp scoff. “Let me start over. Sam’s in labor. Sam’s having a baby!”
Her hands break free of my grasp, and she fists my shirt again. “WHAT THE CONFETTI CANNON TO THE FACE! Why didn’t she call me?”
“She’s been trying. You haven’t been answering. That was Deke on the phone, and they’re headed to the hospital!”
We yell a quick goodbye to everyone and drive back to my mom’s house as quickly as we can.
“Ready to go?” Stephanie appears in my doorway as I’m zipping up my suitcase.
“Yep.” I walk to my nightstand and grab my keys. “I’m done packing.”
“Perfect,” her face beams like it’s Christmas morning, “because it’s time to go. We’re having a baby!” I freeze.
Even though I said the same thing to her at Frank’s house, her words hit me.
All of a sudden, a version of my future passes before my eyes: Stephanie and I building a family and having babies together—lots of them—all girls that look exactly like her.
My heart constricts as I see everything I want—and everything I stand to lose—in a flash.
She doesn’t seem to notice my reaction to her words. “I’m going to crawl out of my skin if we don’t get to the airport and onto that island!” She turns to leave, but her eyes snag on something behind me. “Is that?—”
I follow her stare to my nightstand, where there’s a framed copy of the photo I took last night on the kayak.
I’m not sure what to say, and, not for the first time, I wish I could tell what she was thinking.
She walks over and picks up the photo. “This was less than twenty-four hours ago.” It’s a simple statement, but her tone asks a lot of questions.
I finally have her alone for the first time since this afternoon, but I don’t have the time to give her the explanation I want. I opt for a quick cop-out. “I like it. So I printed it out and stole one of my mom’s frames.”
Her thumb slowly slides over the glass. “That really is a nice picture.” She sets it back down and looks up at me, her eyes widening when she realizes how close we are. I could bend down and kiss her without taking a step.
She doesn’t move, and my sudden shallow breathing matches hers. I remember how she responded to me in the lobby, and my heart rate quickens as I begin assessing how she might react if I acted on my thoughts.
She breaks the spell by taking a small step back, then another.
She clears her throat. “I haven’t even looked at flights yet and don’t know how long it’s going to take us to get there,” her voice is breathy, and I can tell she was as affected as I was, “but I’ll be devastated if I miss the birth.
” Another beat. “So we should get going.” She takes one more step, then waits.
I pick up my suitcase and follow her out the door. “Don’t worry about the flight. I’ve got it worked out.”
“Are we going to get there on time?” Her voice is pleading.
“We can leave as soon as we get to the airport. As far as getting there on time, that’s up to Sam and the baby.” We load our bags into the back of my Jeep and get in.
“Let me know how much I owe you for my ticket. I don’t care how much it is—as long as it gets me there as quickly as humanly possible.”
My head drops as I realize that sometime between now and the airport, I need to let her in on some information about my life. I wasn’t planning on sharing quite so much yet—but it looks like I’m backed into a corner.
As soon as we’re driving, I call Deke. “Any changes?”
“No. The doctor says it will be awhile.”
I mouth to Stephanie, who is anxiously waiting, “Doctor says it’s still going to be awhile.” She visibly relaxes, but her leg is bouncing like a jackhammer on pavement.
Deke lowers his voice a little. “Am I on speaker phone?”
“No.”
“I know she’s in the car with you, which means she hasn’t killed you, but can you covertly tell me how things are going?”
I don’t think Stephanie heard him, but we’re in a confined space, so I turn my phone volume down and switch to my left ear.
“I’d say good.” I steal a peek at her, and she’s staring out the window, knee still bouncing and fingers absently tapping on her leg, seemingly oblivious to the conversation.
“There’s been definite progress. I’ve been trying to enter into”—I search for words that won’t tip Stephanie off—“negotiations about a potential merger, but third parties keep messing it up. Overall, I’d say I’m cautiously optimistic. ”
Deke laughs. “Sounds ominous. I’m looking forward to an unedited version when I see you, but for now, get here as soon as you can.”
I hang up. Stephanie is still jumpy, so I use that as an excuse to reach over and hold her hand. “You okay?”
The corners of her mouth turn up, but there is worry in her eyes. She doesn’t even seem to notice we’re holding hands. “Yeah. I just want to get there. Sam asked me to be in the delivery room with her, which is one of the reasons I went to the island so early. So I’ll be sad if I miss it.”
I squeeze her hand and push on the gas a little harder. “I’ll do my best.”
“So what do you do for work?”
“Excuse me?” Her question seemed to come out of nowhere.
“I heard you talking about negotiations for something, and I realized that I don’t know what you do for work.”
I do need to give her a heads up before we get to the airport and into my private jet—maybe this is a good way to ease into it?
Here goes nothing.
“Do you know that I used to work with Deacon?” I grip the steering wheel a little tighter.
“Yeah. Isn’t that how you know Frank?”
“Yes. Deke and I owned a marketing and public relations firm, but we sold it when Amber’s cancer treatments weren’t going well.
Since then, I’ve . . .” my mind sorts through all the possible explanations, “been working for a . . . charity organization.” There is nothing untrue about what I’m saying, but I cringe at how much I’m leaving out.
“It does a lot of work domestically, but the work is mostly international and for the underprivileged.”
“That’s really cool. How long have you been doing it?” She turns her body so that she’s leaning against the car door and facing me.
“A couple years.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“I do.”
She nods and stays silent, not seeming to need any additional information. Her mind is most likely on Sam and the baby.
“Steph,” I pause, “when we get to the airport, we’ll be taking a private jet.”
She slowly straightens and stares at me for a few beats. “A private jet?” Her lip develops a snarl, like she’s smelled sour milk. “Why?”
“The most pressing reason is because it’s the fastest way to get there.”
“Is it Frank’s?” She adjusts her body again and starts tapping her leg with her fingers. “I think I could fly on a jet if it was Frank’s.”
“Why if it’s Frank’s?” Is it wrong that a wave of jealousy rolls through me, though Frank is in his early seventies?
“I don’t know. There’s something about Frank’s money that doesn’t bother me.”
Interesting. “Something about his money? Or something about him?”
Her shoulder lifts for a beat before dropping back down. “I haven’t had time to think about it. But I was comfortable at his gargantuan house, which is unusual for me.”
“Have you been to a lot of houses that size?”
“None that big. I’ve attended a few dinner parties with some of my parents’ friends, and all of them were like my parents: the only purpose of owning something is to show it off. The houses, the art—it was a collection of price tags instead of a home.”
“But that’s not the impression you get from Frank?”
Her head moves from side to side. “No. I wouldn’t want to live at his house, but I felt safe there. Does that make sense?”
“So you don’t mind his money because you don’t mind him?” I hope I’m right.
“I’ve never thought about it in those terms, but I guess so.”
“Stephanie,” I pause until I have her attention, “the jet isn’t Frank’s.” I dart a quick glance over at her before putting my eyes back on the road. “It’s mine.”
I take another quick peek in her direction, and her stunned face meets me. She slowly slips her hand out of mine and presses her palms together. “This isn’t good.” She’s shaking her head. “I don’t like it.”
“Wait,” I’m stunned, “why don’t you like it? Why is Frank’s money okay, but mine isn’t?”
“This changes everything.” She’s talking to herself and starts fidgeting in her seat.
“What’s going on here?” My mind races as I see her narrowed eyes focus on me. “Stephanie, are you mad at me?”
“Yes!” She doesn’t yell, but she’s not gentle. “No.” Her head drops and she releases a harsh breath. “I don’t know, but I don’t want you to have money.” She shakes her hands out in front of her like she’s touched something sticky. “I don’t like it.”
“Yeah, you’ve said that already.” I have no idea what I’m supposed to do here.
“I don’t want you to have money.” Her tone seems to suggest that I could simply return it to a store like it’s a pair of pants.
An incredulous laugh slips out. “That’s not how it works.”
“How much money do you have?”
“Enough.”
“Cooper, people who have enough go to Disney World. They don’t buy jets.”
“What do you want me to say?” I run my hand down my face.
“I have enough money to buy a jet without it being a big deal. I could buy a lot of things, and it wouldn’t be a big deal.
I could buy you dozens of Jimmy Choos, and it wouldn’t be a big deal.
” I’m flustered because I’m at a loss for what to say.
“Do you want me to say I’m rich? Fine: I’m rich.
I’m actually filthy rich.” I physically flinch at my own words—curse you, Mother! You got inside my head! “Okay,”
I take a shaky breath and try to reset, “that didn’t come out the way I wanted it to. But I do have money, and I bought a jet. But I’ve had it since before we met—so why does this change anything?”
“I’m not sure.” She’s scrunching up her face.