“No. I was drawn to this one when I walked in.” He moves closer. “Those eyes . . .” Looking back at me, he adds, “Those are your eyes.”
I take two steps back, hoping he follows. The placard with the name REED printed on it is just one peek away. “It’s over here,” I say, ignoring the comment.
“Yes, I’d like to see the collection,” he responds as if the question is still fresh in the air.
Unlike the rest of my collection, the four photos hang in a quad. “They just make more sense together than apart.”
“Some things are meant to be.”
I hadn’t allowed myself the investment in him, purposely avoiding doing a once-over. But when his eyes are on the art, I give myself the luxury. Dress pants and a white shirt that was probably crisper at the start of the day. Black tie to match the pants. He looks very handsome and ever the businessman . . . attorney like he wanted to be? My nerves get the better of me. “It’s weird standing here with you again. Not that we’ve ever stood together in this gallery, or in any gallery for that matter, but you know what I mean.”
He slides his fingers through his hair—some habits never die—and he chuckles. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed the sound until hearing it again. “I do,” he replies with a playful elbow nudge. “And I have to agree.”
It’s been six years, but there’s so much that’s different about him, not an ounce of arrogance rolling off him. And his green eyes, like emeralds the first time I saw them, don’t hold the same intensity they once did. I met a troubled boy willing to burn down the world for me. I don’t know what he’s been through, but the vibrancy of the green has settled into the aftermath.
He shifts, pulling his attention from the walls and putting it on me. “It’s been a long fucking time, Story Salenger with an E.”
A sadness permeates the air between us. For me, it’s that I know our time is coming to a close. Whether this is good for me remains to be seen, but here in the now, I’m loving every second. “It sure has, Cooper Haywood.”
“Tell me if I’m out of line, but—”
“You ready to go, Cooper?”
Her slender fingers lie over his upper arm, the red nails matching a red flag in a bullfight. Her body almost presses to him as if she had to stop herself. The blonde in the heels with sky-high legs and the A-line skirt to show them off sucks the breath from my chest.
His date? Girlfriend? Wife? Oh, shit. I look at her hand and then to his, but no rings are wrapped around the finger that counts. As I die inside, everything moves in slow motion. His gaze falls to the floor before reality returns and time speeds back up. He says, “This is the photographer I was telling you about.”
Her blue eyes light up like she’s meeting a celebrity. “You’re very talented. Cooper saw the exhibit and insisted we stop. We didn’t even know it was yours until we saw the name on the wall. Incredible work. I, especially, love . . .” She points. “The empty bottle beside the bed.”
That bottle from after the first time Cooper and I had sex, the first time I’d been with anyone, the first time I fell in love. So many firsts are wrapped up in that photo. So many are wrapped up in him.
I’m not sure at what point I tuned her out, but I stare at Cooper like he just broke my heart again. “If you’ll excuse—”
“The glove. The bottle. The bed. And the rain outside the coffee shop.” The words shoot from his tongue as if he’s had them locked and loaded for years.
“You remember?”
“How could I forget? I still have the originals you gave me.”
I laugh, a little embarrassed now. “I can’t believe you held on to those.”
She says, “I’m Heather, by the way. Cooper told me you went to college together?”
My gaze travels from her to him. “Story,” I reply, shaking her hand. “Yeah, we’re old college chums.” The three of us stand there awkwardly with the laughter dying between us. That’s my cue to leave. “Thanks for stopping by. It was great to see you.”
With our eyes on each other, the intensity returns, piercing me in ways that I haven’t felt in years, fixing me to the spot. He asks, “Heather, do you mind giving us a minute?”
“No problem. I’ll just wait outside.” To me, she says, “It was a real pleasure to meet you.”
“Thank you for coming.”
As soon as she walks away, he says, “I work with Heather. Nothing more.”
“I almost expected her to be Camille,” I snap back.
He shoves his hands in his pockets and shakes his head. “No.”
Despite how honest he appears, my guard is still up. “I have no right to say anything, even if you were dating, so don’t explain for my benefit.”
“I want to.” Moving into my personal space, he doesn’t make apologies. He stakes a claim. “We once said the universe brought us together.”
“I don’t have room in my life to believe in such frivolous notions anymore.” I want to tell him I have a son to protect at all costs. I can’t let the innocence I once had put us in jeopardy. “Everything is cause and effect. We both know that all too well.”
“Okay. You held an opening, and I showed up. Cause and effect. We can call it whatever we want, but have coffee with me?”
Taken back, I stare at him like he’s a lunatic off the street. My hands fly up in front of me. “Slow down. I’m seeing you for the first time in years, and you want to have coffee?” I stab my chest. “With me?”
“With you, I do.” His eagerness is slightly contagious, but I temper myself.
“Like you didn’t give up on us? Like you fought for me?” My thoughts run wild, not quite comprehending how we got from shouting on a street in Atterton six years ago to standing here together cordially as though none of that happened. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Maybe a drink, if that suits you better?”
“It’s not the liquid, Cooper. It’s the history.” I’m not sure I’m strong enough to revisit that part of my life. Shifting, I need distance and air to breathe as if he’s sucking it right out of me. I remember how much we consumed each other. I remember because when we went our separate ways, there was nothing left of me. I spent days, weeks, months, and years putting myself back together piece by broken piece.
I can’t go through that again with him.
“I want to buy one of your pieces.” I almost ask which one, but I don’t need to. I already know the answer before he says, “Reed.”
And that’s the reason I agree. “I’m free for coffee.”
“Excellent.” His smile is just as charming as it always was, the age only making him more handsome. Damn him.
35
Cooper
“Dr. Haywood?”
“Hm?” I scan the list of symptoms and am glad I don’t see anything popping out at me. Growth and weight are tracking—
“Dr. Haywood?” I look up from the chart. With a purple stethoscope around her neck and dipping into the pocket of her white jacket, Heather is waiting in front of me as if I’ve missed the question. “What is it, Dr. Lazarus?”
She adjusts the tortoise-framed glasses with fake lenses on her nose. She once told me that she started wearing them in medical school to distract from her attractiveness. She started getting more respect after that. It wasn’t a confession to brag but more a frustration that she had to do it at all. I imagine it would be quite maddening. She’s a bright doctor, and for that alone, she’s always had my respect. “I was saying I had a lovely time last night.”
“The food was good.” The food was fuel at best since it had very little flavor. At Heather’s suggestion, we tried the restaurant. I was working late and hadn’t eaten, and we had work to discuss. Two birds. One stone.