The Space In Between

Chapter Forty-Three

I RUSHED DOWN the streets of Manhattan, getting splashed by puddles, dodging cars, and trying to deal with an umbrella that didn’t want to cooperate with me. Becoming frustrated, I tossed the umbrella to the side and became drenched in the rain.
The moment I made it to the Williams Management building I paused and took a deep breath. It was now or never, and I was ready.
As I busted into Kyle’s office, my heart dropped.
“How can I help—” Kyle looked up at me with confused eyes.
“Is Cooper Davidson here?”
“He just left…Wait a minute. You’re the girl. Holy shit,” he whispered.
“Language,” I murmured, taking after my mom.
“No! You’re the girl! You’re the one from the magazines! The strip club!” My cheeks flushed as I was reminded of the magazines. It wasn’t the highlight of my life, and I was trying to forget it.
“Yes,” I said with a soft voice. “Where did he go?” I asked, changing the subject.
“Lunch. You want me to call him?”
Please. I nodded and took a seat in the chair across from him. As he dialed, I felt sick. I knew calling wouldn’t do any good because I felt the vibration of Cooper’s cell phone under my butt.
When Kyle saw it, he gave me the saddest look. Before he could apologize and comfort me for the tears falling from my eyes, I shook my head. “It’s fine.” As I turned to walk away, wiping my face, I looked back at Kyle one last time, “And would it kill you to take Jasmine out on a date!”
He looked shocked. “What? Jasmine?” He looked down, and when his eyes reappeared, he had a slick smile on his lips. “Do you think she would be interested in me? I mean. Other than when we did…well…ya know.” He raised his eyebrows and stuttered like a little boy who had his first crush.
A small grin slipped from my mouth as I told him to call her.





AFTER RETURNING HOME, wet and depressed, I let my family comfort me. “Did you try to call him?” Daddy asked. I nodded and told them that he left his phone at the building.
“Well maybe…” Mom tried to give a bit of hope, but I wasn’t interested. Maybe it was a sign we weren’t meant to be. Maybe it was too late for the both of us.
Maybe it was time to move on.
I begged for everyone to stop talking about it and let it go. They finally agreed.
We all got ready to head to the art gallery, and again Ladasha told me how excited she was for it all. When we got there, I was shocked to see the crowd around the building, including the paparazzi flashing away outside. Ladasha told me it was a big deal, but I didn’t think the paparazzi would be involved—and I was really hoping I would never see those people again.
As we stepped inside to see a ton of fancy people in fancy clothing, a loud cry escaped my lips as I looked around and saw large photos of myself throughout the room. There were photos of me dancing down in South Carolina on the tennis court. Pictures of me holding Freckles. Pictures of me crying.
Some were in black and white, others with faded colors.
I was overwhelmed when I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see Cooper standing before me. No words came to mind so I stood there like an idiot.
“Has anyone showed you around?” he asked. I shook my head. “May I?” He took my hand and walked me around. Feeling him touch me awakened my soul; his touch alone gave my heart the jumpstart that I had been looking for. His hair was longer, and he’d let his beard grow in a bit—he looked perfect. My eyes started to fill with water as I kept looking to him. My gosh, so perfect. He told me he was most attracted to the model in his photos because she was flawed. She had emotion in everything she did. She danced when she walked and sang when she talked.
He brought me over to the photo from South Carolina. He leaned in closer to me, his lips touching the rim of my ear. His hot, sweet breaths hit me as he spoke, “This is actually my favorite. See, during the weekend of this shoot, unlike ever before, the dancer showed up. Not just physically, but emotionally she was there. She was invested in this project. She laughed, she welcomed me into her mind. She allowed me to see her. Of course after that she tightened up a bit more and tried to run away, but that’s another photo.” He snickered.
I turned to him and realized how much I had missed his smile. His dimples. His laugh.
I found the strength to speak. “I'm so sorry. I just. I am still messed up from Derrick and I really am trying my best to put myself back together. I know I said some terrible things to you, and I started thinking…What if something happened to you? What if you cheated on me? What if you died? How could I handle that? But that was just me being…”
“Shut up.”
I was a bit taken back by him telling me to shut up, but I had to make him understand where I was coming from. “I know you're probably still upset…”
“I said shut up.” His southern accent was thick, and I knew it was time for me to close my mouth. “I'm crazy about you, Andie. I’ve been crazy about you since I was nine-years-old. I’ll be crazy about you when I’m ninety. I'm crazy about everything I know about you. I'm crazy about everything I plan to know.”
“Coop...” I whispered.
He shook his head at me and held up one of his index fingers. “Over here is Chaos.” He held up his other index finger far apart from the other. “And over here is Order. I'm not asking you to leap from one to the other for me. I'm just asking that we meet somewhere around the space in between the two. We never have to get married. We never have to say I do or slow dance to a stupid first dance song. But I want you to know that I do.” He took my hands into his and pulled me close to him as he continued.
“I do promise to give you all of me each and every day. I can't promise you it won't be hard, and I can't promise you bad things won't happen, but I do promise it will be worth it. I will give you all of me, the good, the bad, and the broken parts because I know you make me better. You make me whole again.”
I smiled as he wiped the falling tears from my eyes and I bit my bottom lip. “I'm scared.”
He nodded in understanding. “Yeah. Me too.”
“But I would rather be scared with you than terrified by myself.”
“We'll go slow. Maybe a coffee date.”
I smiled at his offer and added to it. “Maybe breakfast.”
“Maybe a soda pop or two,” he chimed in. As my face dropped and I rolled my eyes, he quickly retracted his statement. “That was a joke. A bad one, bad moment, bad timing. All right, erase it from your mind.” He ran his hand across my cheek. “You're so beautiful.”
I laughed. “I'm not going to sleep with you, so you can stop trying so hard.”
He grew serious in his demeanor. “I'm not looking for sex.”
“Yeah? And what are you looking for?”
He smiled and winked at me.
I looked near the art gallery window and noticed all of the paparazzi cameras flashing away at the two of us. I said, “I really want to kiss you, but it appears we have an audience.”
He smirked, placed his hand on my lower back, and pulled me closer to him. I could feel his breath against my skin as he whispered, “Let’s give them their damn picture and they’ll leave us alone.”
“Promise?”
“Nope.” He smiled as he pulled me into a deep, passionate kiss. Everyone disappeared the instant his lips met mine. It was just me and him in the moment, and no one, not even the paparazzi, could take that away from us.