“I never got a straight answer, but my mom thought the E made it more unique.”
The lights from the dash reflect onto his face, giving me the advantage of seeing him over Cooper seeing me sitting in the dark of the passenger’s seat. Call me selfish, but I like looking at his face. His handsome features are already so defined that I can only imagine he’ll get better with age. Although it would be fun to zigzag my tongue over the days’ worth of scruff or stare enviously over his lashes, it’s his eyes that mesmerize, and I can’t see those properly in the car at night.
“Believe it or not, I have to spell Haywood every time I make a dinner reservation.”
I’ve never eaten somewhere that required a reservation, but I don’t tell Cooper. I hate when he feels bad over our money situations. I return to the details of my mom. “I have her old copy of Catcher in the Rye. It’s one of the few things I have left from her.” Picturing it in my nightstand with its tattered pages and broken spine, I know that book was well-read and even more loved. “I think she had some Holden Caulfield in her, some little aspect that made her always feel like an outcast in Atterton. She’s from there, the town of Atterton. Grew up down the street from the bus station.”
“I don’t know where that is.”
No, of course not. The guy drives a Jaguar.
“Yeah, she just never quite fit into society. But I’m not sure if she ever tried or if she tried and failed and then decided to do the exact opposite.” I take a breath, hating that I’m starting to feel sad. When will the sadness around my mom’s death end? “I spent so many years trying to fit in but realized I didn’t want to after she died.”
The sound of gravel grinds under the tires when he exits the freeway. The car slows to the speed limit as we pass a gas station with a cop car parked in the parking lot. He watches like he’s doing something wrong.
He catches hold of my gaze, making him smile, and then redirects his attention back to the road. He takes a right. The tall pine trees are covered with inches of snow as we drive down a curvy road. Careful, he slows down even more, and I can imagine we’re under the speed limit by now, but I don’t mind because I’m with him.
Glancing at me once more, he says, “I can’t tell if you had a good or bad childhood, Story. But I get the feeling that either way, it made you who you are today.”
“Aren’t we all the products of our childhood, of our parents’ flaws and qualities—
good or bad?”
He seems to weigh the words, not rushing to say anything for my benefit, but I assume he’s thinking about what fits his circumstances best. “Holden wasn’t alone in Catcher in the Rye,” Cooper starts. “He just felt like an outcast in his head, and maybe he was in life as well. That was his self-protection, though, his MO, and I get it. It was just the way he preferred to exist in life. Alone.”
“So you think he chose that path?”
I see worry crossing his brow and digging small lines into his forehead as he mulls over the question. “Do any of us get to choose our path in life?” He glances over at me. “Or do we just continue following the one chosen for us?”
The conversation veers into a deeper ravine of reflection that I’m not sure we can dig ourselves out of at this juncture. But I’m fascinated, more than riveted by how this man thinks, what makes him tick, the way he expresses his emotions to me, opening up in a way that makes me feel special. My gut tells me he doesn’t do this with many people.
His eyes narrow as the snow gets heavier. Peering through the windshield, I stare ahead at the road, thinking it must have been salted days ago since it’s beginning to cover with snow again. “It’s easier to do what others want. I did for a long time.”
Grimacing, he replies, “I did for a time.”
“You don’t any longer?” I only ask because he went home to discuss family business. I have no idea what that could be, but I notice he hasn’t offered it up for discussion either. That, I understand. I’ll be patient for when he’s ready.
“I did . . . I did everything that was asked of me. And then, I just stopped. I couldn’t hold on to the fa?ade forever. That’s what it was, a fa?ade. What about you?”
“There’s no one to tell me anything anymore. I’m not sure what I want, not in the big picture scheme of things. I know what’s three steps ahead of me. Graduation. Move to the city. Start my career. But I do know what I don’t want.”
Although this conversation started with me, the floodgates have opened for us both, revealing parts of ourselves that we’ve kept hidden from others.
A lot like my mom.
I don’t think I really knew her like I should have, and I was the closest person to her in life.
Cooper reaches over again and slides his fingers into the hair at the back of my head. A gentle caress and then a little rub give comfort that I didn’t realize I needed until now. “What do you not want, Story?”
My heart starts racing, and I doubt myself for a moment, my breathing picking up as panic sets in. I never thought I’d tell anyone this story after how horrible it went last time.
But I’m safe with Cooper, I remind myself two times over before recalling how he made me feel beautiful when he saw my scar. This will not be different. He’ll see me through the ugliness of what happened.
And if we’re really moving into a committed relationship, like how it feels we are, it’s a secret that can’t stay buried for long. It’s come to shape my life in too many ways and sent me in the opposite direction of how I was raised. How he reacts will determine if I’m too much of what he doesn’t want.
Just as I open my mouth to let the full truth come out, the pull to the left has me looking out my window as we start up a hill on a long driveway. My mouth falls open before I can confess anything more.
High on a snowy hill sits a fairy-tale castle and the most beautiful hotel I’ve ever seen. Decorated in warm white lights, the hotel with its spires has me imagining I’m Cinderella. My castle is dressed in her finest Christmas attire—wreaths with red bows and garland draped underneath the windows. There’s even a red carpet lining the walk to the main entrance.
Whipping my gaze back to Cooper, I’m smiling so big that my cheeks hurt. “Where are we?”
“I booked us a room.” He eyes me quickly as we pull up the driveway. “We can have dinner and then drive back to your apartment, or we can stay the night. It’s up to you.”
“Um, yeah. There’s no debate. We’re staying, moving in, and never leaving this place. I can’t believe you did this, Cooper. It’s a fairy tale come to life.” I want to hug him, but he needs to drive.
He runs the palm of his hand over my leg. “I’ll do anything for you, Story, especially if I get to spend time with you. It’s a win for both of us.” He pulls under the porte cochere and puts the car in park. The valet rushes over to open my door and offer assistance, but Cooper is already out of the car and jogging around to my side. He tosses the keys to the valet when he passes.
I squeal, not able to restrain my excitement. I feel like a princess. But if I’d known I was coming here, I could have dressed more appropriately. Not that I have clothes to wear in a castle, but my jeans and a T-shirt aren’t likely the proper attire.
When I take his hand, he pulls me into his arms. “I’ve waited all night to do this.” I’m dipped, and our lips come together on the downswing. His one hand supports the back of my head, and his other is at my waist. He holds me so securely that I know I’d fall without him.
With our lips locked in a kiss, that’s when I realize I’ve already fallen for him.
19
Cooper
Story’s been lying on the bed with her legs and arms spread like a snow angel . . . a bed angel. I smirk, not only from seeing her enjoy the king-sized bed covered in pillows but also that being in bed with her is one of my favorite places to be.