20. Cooper #2
I spend the next few hours having lunch with my mom before I see her to her car and then head into the office. Although it’s Saturday, I have some work that I need to catch up on, especially after my week has seen me preoccupied with Meghan.
Climbing into the back of the town car, I replay my conversation with my mom and try to remind myself that I’m nothing like my father. Yes, it’s the weekend and I’m working, but it’s not like I have a wife and kid who I’m leaving behind.
The drive to the building passes in a blur and before I know it, I’m exiting the elevator, and making my way to my office, pausing as I pass Meghan’s desk.
Moving to the chair behind her desk, I look over the items she has neatly laid out, picking up the picture she has of her and an older couple that I assume are her parents. Running my finger over her smiling face, I wonder what her parents would say if they saw her with me.
Would they accept me?
Would they think she can do better ?
I don’t know how long I sit at her desk staring at her picture, even when she’s not around, I’m lost in thought about her, but it’s going dark outside by the time I even contemplate getting up.
Putting the picture back in its place, I stand and walk into my office, determined to at least try and get some work done.
How my father became addicted to working and became one of the best attorneys in Manhattan, when he was with my mother, is beyond me.
I’m not even officially with Meghan and she’s all I seem to be able to focus on.
It's late by the time I get back to my place and as I ride the elevator to my floor, I contemplate the thing that’s been on my mind since my conversation with my mom—what am I doing with Meghan. There’s no doubt in my mind that I want her.
I want to take her on dates.
I want to fall asleep with her in my arms and wake up with her still in them.
The thing that has been eating away at me is whether she wants that too. I know she wants me physically but does she see me as more than that?
Walking through the front door, I drop my keys on the console table by the door and move over to the sound system, putting on a playlist and filling the room with the soothing voice of Yebba .
I go to the kitchen and pour myself two fingers of Macallan 18 .
The contents are gone quickly, and I pour myself a fresh glass then make my way upstairs.
Switching the shower on in my ensuite, I strip out of my clothes, not bothering to put them away and instead leaving them in a pile on the bathroom floor as the room fills with steam.
As I step into the shower, I take a sip of my drink before placing my glass on the alcove shelf near the entrance.
Under the spray, I drop my chin to my chest, leaning my palms on the wall in front of me, the water slashing down on me from the powerful shower head.
I feel an overwhelming sense of emotion, I want to shout, scream, cry, beg her to be mine.
I don’t know what to do with her, I’m at a loss.
I want to bare my soul to her and have her bare hers in return.
I want to tell her… to tell her that… that I love her.
In all my thirty-two years of life, I have never had the urge to tell a woman I wasn’t related to that I love her. Ultimately, I know that’s because I’ve never felt this way about any of the women I have dated. Meghan is special.
I sense her presence in the room with me, but I’m not entirely sure it’s not just a figment of my imagination. It wouldn’t be beyond the realm of possibilities for my mind to play tricks on me with the one thing I crave.
I truly feel like I’m about to lose my mind because of this woman and I fear I’ll lose her one day when she finds someone else.
Rule number three.
Someone she loves and wants to start a family with—I can give her all of that. I’d tear down the world for her, because she consumes my every thought and from the moment I met her I wanted her, I just didn’t realize that’s what this feeling was.
I’m at a loss as to how to convey my feelings to her when, if she doesn’t feel the same, they have the ability to scare her away.
When her hands wrap around my waist from behind, I release a sigh of contentment—that she’s here, where she belongs.
She’s placing soft kisses on my back and as I pull her around to my front and under the spray of the water, she looks up at me with nothing but concern in her eyes.
She’s naked, her make-up and hair are being ruined by the water, but she doesn’t seem to care.
Even with mascara running down her cheeks; she’s never looked more beautiful.
I’m her main focus .
“Cooper?” The way she says my name has me closing my eyes and resting my forehead on hers, my hands holding her head. “Are you okay? Has something happened?” she whispers.
Pulling away from her to look into her eyes, she uses her hand to move a piece of hair off of my forehead before cupping my cheek. As my eyes roam over her face searching for a hint of reciprocated feelings, three little words nearly tumble from my mouth.
Looking into her big green eyes, I realize I’ll take whatever she is willing to give me. Even if that means I have to be the man to temporarily warm her bed.
Maybe, given time, she’ll give me her heart, soul and mind too.