I hate being second-guessed. I don’t mind polite discourse. I don’t even mind when someone disagrees with me, because they’re so frequently wrong. I don’t just throw opinions into the universe for fun like Cooper does. If I have an opinion on something, it’s informed. I’ve studied the issue to an unhealthy degree. How can he feel so free to state his mind without a folder’s worth of data to back him up?
Worst of all: how is it that he might be right?
Actually, even worse than that: why doesn’t it upset me with him? Normally, confrontation makes me feel shaky and nauseated. Confronting Cooper makes me feel like I’ve been spiked with adrenaline: tense but also supercharged.
I’ve never argued with someone so boldly, but then, I’m not used to someone pushing me to stand up, either.
How dare he say I wasn’t being rational?
He wasn’t wrong, a little voice whispers.
Rational, shmational. I’m following my heart, thank you very much. Isn’t that what data nerds are always told? We’re heartless monsters who value stats over people? Well, not this nerd!
The elevator mercifully glides up to my suite, and Cooper doesn’t say a word the whole way up. I watch his reflection watching me, though, and I don’t like it.
Not a bit.
He doesn’t look bold as brass, he looks contemplative in a way that makes me fidgety. I spin my earring and steel myself against even the possibility that Cooper Kellogg may have more than one side.
The bell dings, and the doors open to my lavish suite. Cooper whistles appreciatively. “Wow. It’s like the North Pole and Buckingham Palace had a baby. Who’s your friend and why did he hook you up with this suite again?”
We walk into the entry, and Cooper breezes past, not waiting for me. I hang my purse up, and follow him. “My friend is Nate Cruz.”
Cooper goes to the next room and then to the next. “The actual owner?” I hear him play the first few bars ofHeart and Soulon the piano next to the stupid eight-foot Christmas tree. Housekeeping has added decorative bowls of cinnamon pine cones, and it’s enough to make me hate cinnamon. “Why did he book you this suite if he’s marrying your friend? He doesn’t secretly love you, does he?”
“No! She and I are roommates, and I was responsible for getting them together.”
“Responsible?”
“I parked my car in a spot while I was in Costa Rica, and that made them always fight over another … it’s a whole thing. Anyway, they’re stupidly in love, so they’re both always giving me gifts to show me their appreciation.” I hold up my Stanley for emphasis.
My phone buzzes and buzzes again. I pull it out and groan. My brothers are texting on our siblings thread.
“Hold on,” I tell Cooper.
Logan
Guys, what’s the plan for the Stewart family Christmas Adam party?
Lucas
NOT IT
Logan
Wouldn’t expect otherwise, bro. Lee?
My stomach twists into knots. I glance up at Cooper, who’s looking at the Christmas decorations with an expression I don’t recognize on his normally bold face. Is it nostalgia? Longing?
Liesel
I’m in another state right now and you two are off until Spring Training. Can’t you take care of it?
Lucas
Have you met us?
Liesel
