“I’m not sure I’m going to do the movie,” I tell her honestly. That’s definitely the way I’m leaning.
“Do you know how popular this movie is going to be?” Colleen asks me in a deadly serious voice. “It’s his most popular action series, and with the press circulating about you two, it’s going to set records at the box office.”
“And prancing around in a bikini or in my panties and bra is really all I’ll be doing,” I say dryly. At that, Coop’s head spins around and he gives me a cocked eyebrow. I smirk at him and tell Colleen, “My role is minimal. They can easily find someone else.”
“They don’t want anyone else,” she says firmly.
“Whatever,” I mutter, not ready to fight about this. I have something more important. “About two years ago, I was sent a letter from the town council of Newberry, Georgia. Their middle school had sustained fire damage and they asked for me to help with rebuilding costs, as well as some money to erect for a memorial to honor someone that died saving the children there.”
“You get requests for money all the time,” she says. “Daily, as a matter of fact.”
“So you don’t remember this one in particular?” I press.
“Sorry, Eden,” Colleen says. “But I’ll be glad to look it up. We keep records on all that stuff.”
“Don’t bother,” I say softly, letting that offensive amount just hang in the air. I look up and find Coop has turned to face me, leaning back against the counter and whisking pancake batter. “I know you sent a donation for five hundred dollars.”
“Yeah…five hundred dollars. What’s the issue?” Colleen asks in confusion and a little bit of frustration to even be dealing with something that she believes to be trivial. I know she’d rather be pressuring me about the movie deal.
I grit my teeth and try to maintain some level of calm. “The issue is that this was my middle school I attended and the request was from my hometown. I think I could have given a lot more than five hundred dollars. This should have been brought to my attention.”
“Eden, if I sent money to every single person who asked you, you’d have been bankrupt years ago. You can’t help or save everyone.”
“But I can sure as fuck prioritize them and help the ones that are important to me,” I snarl at her. “A very close friend of mine…his father died in that fire. I lost out on an opportunity to honor him because you didn’t give it much thought at all.”
Coop’s hand stills over the batter bowl and his eyes darken as he watches me.
Her voice is soft and contrite, but she doesn’t budge on her stance. “You don’t have time to review all that stuff, Eden. You’re a business. You have to make movies. Your staff screens the mail because as you know, you get hundreds of letters and emails a day. You have to rely on your staff to handle it.”
“But that’s just it…y’all fucked up a very important request, and I’m now sitting here in Newberry amid a group of people who hate me because I’ve offended them through your actions.”
“So you’re in Newberry.” Collen latches on to my slip of the tongue. “I could arrange a meeting with Brad’s people there if that would suit you.”
“No it wouldn’t fucking suit me,” I snap at her, and I’m so livid over her lack of empathy toward me for her colossal screwup I disconnect the call and slam my phone down on the counter.
Within three seconds, it’s ringing and I see Colleen’s name. “I’m pissed at you,” I snarl into the phone when I connect the call.
“And I’m sorry you were let down,” Colleen says, her voice filled with apology. “Clearly something important slipped through the cracks. I’ll figure a way to fix this so it doesn’t happen again. Now, if you’ll just tell me how much money you want me to send to make this right, I’ll get it sent out immediately.”
I sigh and my entire body deflates. “No, I’m sorry I was shitty to you. I’m just upset about it and you don’t have to do anything else on this.”
“You sure?” she presses.
“I’m sure. Let’s plan on talking tomorrow, okay?”
“Sure thing, Eden,” Colleen says, and she hangs up.
When I place my phone on the counter, Coop sets down the batter bowl, turns to the cupboard just to his left, and pulls out a bottle of bourbon along with two highball glasses. He doesn’t say a word but just saunters over to the island and pours each of us two fingers. He slides a glass over to me and picks his up.
I follow suit, cocking at eyebrow at him for explanation.
“You need this,” he says with a smirk. “Trust me on that.”
“I’ll still get pancakes, though, right?” I ask to make sure.
“You’ll still get pancakes,” he assures me, then taps the edge of his glass to mine. “Welcome back to Newberry, Eden.”
I sip the bourbon. He takes a slug and sets the glass back down on the counter before heading back to the batter he left near the stove. I watch as he cooks breakfast for dinner for us, and yes, I appreciate that Coop Mayfield has definitely filled out since we were together. His shoulders are broad and pull at the material of his T-shirt, and I have no doubt he’s sporting an amazing abdomen. His triceps flex as he dips a ladle into the batter, then pours it onto a sizzling griddle.
Age has treated him well. I’d have to say that at thirty-two, he’s the most gorgeous man I know, and I doubt anyone could take that title from him.
“So…you didn’t sound happy to whomever you were just talking to,” Coop says as he stands over the pan, spatula poised and ready to flip when it’s ready.
“That was my business manager, Colleen O’Hearn. She’s been with me ever since I moved over into acting.”
“How long has that been?” Coop asks, and it actually dismays me slightly he doesn’t know. I guess he never looked backward at me.
“About eight years,” I tell him. “I was getting too old for modeling and frankly, I was getting burned out.”
“Twenty-four is too old for modeling?” Coop blurts out as his head turns to me with surprise.
Laughing, I nod. “Yeah, the industry isn’t kind to aging. Particularly in high fashion.”
He turns back to the pancakes and starts to flip them. “How old were you when you did the Sports Illustrated cover?”
“That was one of my last modeling gigs,” I tell him. “So right around twenty-four, I think.”
“Well you sure didn’t look old then,” he mutters as he flips a pancake.
“You saw that issue?” I ask curiously.
“Well, yeah,” he says as he looks over his shoulder with a grin. “There wasn’t a man in Newberry that didn’t get a copy I think. And for the record, at thirty-two, you could still grace the cover in my humble opinion.”
And just like that, my esteem reinflates knowing that Coop has keep track of me somewhat, and that compliment right there tells me he still thinks I’m attractive. That’s a nice feeling to have, especially when I’ve been questioning all the things that are wrong with me that could have caused Brad to cheat.