Chapter 19
COOPER
“Are you going home for the holidays?” I ask, kicking back the last drop of wine from my plastic cup.
“Yeah, but not until Christmas Eve,” Ryan replies. “What about you? You spending Christmas with your dad or your mom?”
“My dad. I spent last Christmas with my mom, so I’m going to Newport this year.” I smile. “I’m excited to spend time with my sister. I haven't seen her since…” I pause, looking at him. “Well, since… you know, the last time I was in Newport.”
The plane hits turbulence, and I instinctively grip Ryan’s thigh, my whole body tensing as I squeeze my eyes shut. “Shit,” I whisper.
Realizing my hand’s on him, I start to pull back, but his hand covers mine, weaving our fingers together. His thumb brushes gently along my skin, each stroke sending a fire through my veins, igniting something deep within my core.
“You okay?” Ryan’s eyes meet mine with a tenderness that makes me melt.
I take a deep breath, trying to focus. “Yeah, I’m okay.” I say, forcing a small smile. “I just… hate flying. Turbulence freaks me out.”
He gives my hand a squeeze before letting go. “Well, I’m right here if you need me.”
“Thanks… Are you spending time with your sisters while you’re in Arizona?” I ask, eager to keep the conversation going.
“Yeah, for the holiday stuff. The whole family will be at my parents’ place on Christmas Day—my sisters, their families… and me, alone, for the first time in eleven years.”
It’s me that reaches for his hand this time. I place mine on top of his, resting on his leg. “I’m so sorry, Ryan.” I furrow my brows. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through.” And I mean it. Ryan’s leaving someone he actually gets along with, someone he’s loved for so long. Plus, I know he’s worried sick about Beth.
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” His gaze holds mine, and for a moment, I forget that I’m engaged—that my fiancé is waiting for me at home. It’s just me and Ryan, like we’re a team. He breaks the moment, clearing his throat. “Is your dad bringing anyone new this year?”
I laugh. “God, I hope not. Not that I know of, but a lot can happen in a week with my dad.”
“And what about Brad? Where does he fit into your holiday plans? Is he going to Newport with you?”
The discomfort of his question lingers between us, and I break our gaze, looking down at my hands. “Yeah. Brad’s coming to Newport. He has a work trip right before Christmas, so he won’t come until Christmas Eve. But we’ll do Christmas morning with my dad. Casey and her family will come over for brunch and presents around noon.” I can feel his eyes on me, daring me to look at him, so I do. “It should be fun.” I add, forcing a smile.
“That's great,” he says, though his sincerity falls flat.
I sigh loudly. “Look, Ryan, I know I said things last night—things I probably shouldn’t have. But I had that edible, and those shots… I was feeling vulnerable and on edge from my argument with Brad… and my day with you.”
He interrupts me. “Why shouldn’t you have said things? Was it the truth?” He looks at me with a challenge in his eyes, and I know he sees right through me. “That was the most honest I’ve ever seen you. There’s no reason to feel bad about that.”
“Of course I feel bad. I took almost five years of my relationship and discredited it in thirty seconds. I still care for Brad. He has a lot of great qualities, and I made him out to be some asshole just because things are rocky right now. We’ve had our moments, you know? Times when it felt… good, sometimes even great.”
“Okay. You don’t have to justify anything to me, Cooper. This is your life, not mine. If you say things are good, then all I can do is hope that they are.”
God, he doesn’t believe me.
I don’t know if I even believe myself.
“Okay. Can we please just talk about something else?” I ask.
“Sure. What do you want to talk about?”
“I don’t know. Anything but this. Do you like rom-coms?”
“Random… But yeah, I enjoy a rom-com, as long as it’s not too girly.”
“What’s your favorite rom-com?”
He grins. “ Wedding Crashers. ”
I laugh. “Is that just the universal favorite for all men?”
“Don’t you like it?” he asks.
“Of course I like it. Who doesn’t like that movie?”
“So what’s your favorite rom-com then?”
“ When Harry Met Sally ,” I say, unable to keep from smiling. “I just love the whole friends-falling-in-love thing. They just have each other’s backs, you know? They support each other… and there’s this deep trust. It’s just a beautiful story. The kind of relationship where, when they’re old and gray, Harry can’t get it up, and Sally’s too tired, it won’t matter.” I glance at Ryan, and he’s smiling. “They’ve built this solid friendship underneath it all. They’ll still have things to talk about, or just enjoy sitting in silence. That’s a rare find.” I shrug. “I don’t know. I guess that’s something I hope for one day.”
Ryan stares at me, like he’s seeing straight through to my soul. “It is a rare thing. And I hope you find it someday,” he says softly.
* * * * * ? * * * * *
Ryan and I walk through the terminal together in comfortable silence, having already talked plenty on the flight back. Today went well. It was our last day in Austin, and it was productive. We visited a few more co-working spaces, reviewed lease agreements, and ultimately chose Austin Work Space, securing corporate approval. It’s a relief to have that stress lifted.
Things have been easy between us today, though after the kiss in the pool, our late-night confessions, and the almost-kiss last night, the tension between us is high—an undeniable chemistry, simmering just below the surface.
Ryan and I reach the point where we part ways—him heading to parking and me to passenger pick up, where Brad’s waiting for me.
He stops, turning to me with a small smile. “Well, I’ll see you Monday. Interesting trip…” He chuckles. “But productive, at least.”
“It was definitely interesting,” I say, managing a smile.
He pulls me into a hug, and I can’t help myself—I melt into it. When I pull back, Ryan’s eyes meet mine. “Be strong, alright? Don’t be a puppet.”
I nod. “See you, Ryan.” I turn to head toward Brad, unsure of what awaits me—or what I’m leaving behind.
* * * * * ? * * * * *
Brad pulls up and hops out to grab my bag. “Hey, baby.” He pulls me in for a kiss, and I reluctantly kiss him back, though my instinct is to resist.
I settle into the passenger seat, my guard up, ready for battle. As Brad pulls onto the road, I turn up the music, hoping to avoid conversation.
After a few minutes, Brad reaches over, lowering the volume. He gives me a sidelong glance. “Are you just planning to not speak to me, Cooper?”
I shrug. “I really don’t know what to say.”
“Baby.” He takes my hand in his. “I don’t want to fight anymore. Can we just let this whole work trip thing go? Start tonight with a clean slate?”
I furrow my brows, pursing my lips. “That’s not really how things work, babe. You didn’t just accuse Ryan of using this trip to get close to me—you insinuated I went on this trip because I wanted to sleep with him to get back at you.”
“Well, do you?”
“I’m not even answering that. It’s pointless. You don’t listen anyway.”
His eyes narrow. “It’s not like it’d be the first time. I mean, Jesus, Cooper. How am I supposed to trust you now that I know about your little affair in Newport? What am I supposed to think?”
Hot tears sting my eyes as my breath comes sharper and sharper, nostrils flaring with each exhalation. Anger tightens in my chest and I clench my fists, my voice brittle with emotion. “God, Brad.” My voice cracks, adrenaline slicing through me. “I can’t do this anymore.” I hold back the tears, refusing to let him see me break. “I’m done. I’m just fucking done.”
He scoffs. “I knew it.”
I let out a defeated sigh. “You knew what?”
“You fucked him.” He glances at me. “You fucked him, didn’t you?” He turns back to the road, and all I can do is stare.
My gaze burns into the side of his face as I choke back the emotion, the hurt—the pain. I shake my head slowly, too defeated to even defend myself. I can’t win. I never could with him. “Whatever, Brad.” My voice is quiet, all the fight in me—gone.
“Baby, I need to know. Did you?”
I stare out the window.
“Coop.” He grabs my hand, squeezing it.
I keep my eyes on the passing cars. “Why do you even ask when you don’t believe me anyway?”
“Coop, come on, look at me.”
Reluctantly, I meet his gaze.
“Did you sleep with Ryan?”
I shake my head, my voice barely a whisper. “No.”
He sighs, pressing my hand to his lips. “Baby, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being possessive and jealous—for accusing you. I worry all the time that you’re going to leave me. And honestly, I wouldn’t blame you after what I’ve put you through.” He takes a deep breath, and I just stare, trying to decide if he’s being sincere or feeding me a load of crap. “And then I meet this Ryan guy… he’s good-looking, and he obviously has a thing for you. You’re around him all the time at work, and now with these trips? I’ve been a mess, Coop—stuck in my head, thinking the worst. Almost preparing myself for the day you come home and tell me you slept with him… or that you’re calling off the engagement.”
I feel trapped between my feelings, the lies, and Brad. “Nothing happened. We worked. We looked at properties, had meetings, ate meals. That’s it. You don’t need to worry. We’re still engaged.” I give him a reassuring smile as he glances at me.
“Coop, I really don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. I can’t lose you. God, I love you so much.” He chokes up. Brad doesn’t ever cry. My heart lurches. I feel for him—I remember the paranoia and constant fighting after I first caught him cheating. But I also can’t keep going in these circles.
“I’m so sorry if I’ve been absent, or an ass, or both. You’re my number one priority for now on. Let's pick a date, baby. Let’s pick a date and start planning our wedding.” He squeezes my hand.
The walls of the car seem to close in on me, crushing my airway—I can’t think. “Okay. Yeah, let’s pick a date,” I say automatically, as if I’m a robot that’s been programmed to just agree.
Brad starts talking about a fall wedding for next year, but I’m only half-listening. My mind races. What the hell is wrong with me? I was ready to leave a few minutes ago, and now I’m nodding along to wedding plans. I think about how I’m assertive in every other part of my life, but with Brad, I become this passive, wimpy person I barely recognize—and I don’t like her.
When we get home, I head straight to my closet to unpack, hoping Brad leaves me to the silence of my own thoughts—even though they’re torturous right now. I hang up the clothes I didn’t wear, replaying the week in my mind: the time spent with Ryan, the laughter in the car, us playing in the pool, the vulnerable moments, our confessions. God, I wish I could stop thinking, just for one second.
Exhausted, I crawl into bed and turn off my lamp, praying Brad doesn’t want sex. Who am I kidding? If there’s one thing I know about Brad, it’s that he’ll definitely want to have sex.
I feel him sink into the bed beside me. He scoots behind me, and sure enough, his arm slides around my waist as he kisses my shoulder. His hand wanders down lower toward my shorts. I turn to him, meeting his lips in a quick kiss. “I’m exhausted, babe. Can this wait until tomorrow, when I have more energy?”
Brad sighs, disappointed. “Sure. I just missed you… it’s been a week.”
Guilt tugs at me. “You’re right,” I say softly. “Maybe I can be on bottom tonight?”
“God, never mind. If you don’t want to have sex just say so.”
I thought I just did.
“I do want to… I’m just tired, so I’d like to be on the bottom. Feel that strong body over mine,” I add, coaxing him. Brad may know how to pull my strings, but I’ve learned a few tricks myself. I turn toward him, my hands gliding over his chest and stomach.
“Are you sure?” he murmurs, a bit softer now. “You know I don’t want it unless you’re into it. I want to make sure you feel good. That turns me on.”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” I say, grinding against him, playing up my desire.
A few minutes in, he rolls me on top of him, and I’m beyond annoyed. I play along, half-heartedly, then finally shift to my back, reaching for him in ways that’ll keep him happy so I can lie here and zone out. Brad pushes into me, but my thoughts drift to Ryan again and our conversation at the bar. He really listened—heard me, saw me. Brad doesn’t see me, and he sure as shit doesn’t hear me.
My eyes fix on the ceiling fan, and I count each click as it spins around and around, anything to distract me from Brad’s rhythm, which feels more like a drill than passion.
“Baby,” Brads voice snaps me to the present. “Where are you? I feel like I’m fucking a starfish.”
If I tell him I spaced out, he’ll be offended—I might as well tell him I fell asleep.
“I’m here, babe,” I say, trying to sound convincing. “Just focused… I’m almost there. Don’t stop, or I’ll lose it.”
That satisfies him. He keeps going, and I make all the sounds he wants to hear, gasping and moaning as if I’m caught up in the moment. “Oh God,” I cry, “I’m going to come.” But I’m not. I tip my head back, pretending to orgasm—something I’ve never done—until now.
Ryan’s words echo in my mind: Don’t be a puppet. The irony isn’t lost on me—I feel like a marionette, with Brad pulling every string, performing a part I didn’t audition for. I act like this is everything I want, that he’s everything I need. But every day, I’m realizing more and more that he’s not. This isn’t what I want—I’m not happy.
Later, I lie in bed, my mind racing as silent tears fall down my cheeks. And for the second time this week, I cry myself to sleep.