Chapter 20
Chapter twenty
Dakota
“Thank you for supper.” Arizona picks up her plate. “Those wings were sick.”
Cooper lifts a brow.
“Sick. As in good.” She shakes her head. “Do I need to make you a glossary?”
I laugh at the way these two have bantered all evening.
With the event filled day, first a wedding to the man I’m pretending not to love, and then the man I loathe more than anything on this planet possibly being released from prison, I needed a light moment.
A moment to let Ari fill the air with her quick wit and impressive wealth of alligator facts.
“You’re welcome.” I push to my feet, reaching to pick up the empty dishes.
I feel a hand land on my arm. “I got it. You cooked. I’ll clean,” Cooper says.
“Ari, if you’d like to go ahead and shower first that’s fine,” I say as she drops her napkin in the trash. “Maybe we can watch a movie after?”
“Ok.” She smiles. “I really like the bath bombs Ivy picked out.”
“Bomb away.” I grin.
When I hear the click of the bathroom door, I let a sigh escape my lips. I could lie and say that phone call didn’t rattle me a little, but it did. All his calls did.
Cooper is already at the sink, sleeves rolled up on his forearms, as he dunks the dishes under the spray. I watch the way they flex, my eyes trailing from the unintended sexy motion up to his profile.
It’s not fair how gorgeous he is.
“Like what you see, Kota?”
I blink, quickly masking my blush with a swat to his arm. “I was lost in thought, not ogling you.”
Geez, I’m lying left and right these days.
“You know, I’m your husband now. You can ogle me all you want.” He wags his brows.
“You are my husband, aren’t you?” I smile, leaning back against the cabinet.
He meets my eyes, his hands stilling on the dishes. He drops the plate, then flicks the faucet off.
“Don’t move,” he rasps.
I study him while he dries his hands, then fishes his phone from his pocket. He holds up a finger, signaling for me to be patient.
After a few taps, familiar music filters through the kitchen. He places the phone on the counter before offering me his open hand. “I believe I owe you our first dance.”
I can feel the emotion rise in my throat as I place my hand in his. The song that plays has me holding back tears when he wraps an arm around my waist, tugging me to his chest.
Keith Whitley’s When You Say Nothing at All plays through the speaker, taking me back to the very first song we ever danced to at the winter formal our freshman year. I was terrible, but he spent the whole night teaching me how to two-step.
He keeps one hand on my lower back, the other holding my hand as his thumb caresses my skin.
My head rests on his chest, while the harsh reality washes over me.
Some other woman will get to dance in his kitchen.
Some other woman will get to be the reason for that bright smile.
Some other woman will get to receive everything that Cooper Mayson has to offer, and that reality nearly buckles my knees.
I’ll have to stand by and watch. Smile, give my blessing, and watch him grow a beautiful family.
Without me. But I’ll still smile. I’ll still be in the background, loving him from afar.
I’ll remember this moment. I’ll remember the brief moment in time, dancing in this kitchen, what it felt like to be his.