“I’ll find a prop plane or something.”
“A prop plane—back to London?”
“I can’t watch it anymore,” Cooper said.
“Watch what?”
“You making the worst possible choices for yourselfevery single time.”
“I don’t!”
But at that, Cooper dragged his eyes deliberately down my body to settle his gaze on my tragic, mangled, blistered feet, still in those ridiculous heels—and he stared at them until I looked down, too.
I mean, he wasn’t wrong. “Noteverysingle time.”
But Cooper just shook his head. “I’m going.”
“Don’t go! I need to talk to you!”
“I’m done talking. Make your awful choices. Live your worst life. I’m done looking after you. Look after yourself for once.” He hoisted his bags onto his shoulder, and then he said, “And for god’s sake, put some better damned shoes on.”
Then he grabbed my hand and pressed something into it like he was tipping me.
And then he was out the door so fast, it was closed before I looked down to see what he’d handed me.
I unfurled my hand.
It was my flower barrette.
The one I’d lost on the playground when we were ten.
Twenty-Five
I WENT AFTERhim, of course.
But I had to change into sneakers first.
Notbecause he told me to.
But because, at the sight of the barrette, it hit me at last.
No more resisting. No more refusing to comprehend.
It had been Cooper all along.
Cooper was the person I’d imprinted on. Cooper was the reason I couldn’t make anything work with anyone else. Cooper was the one who’d ruined my life.
Everything was Cooper.
And if I was going to chase after him right, I’d need some shoes I could run like hell in.
Dammit.
How long does it take to put on a pair of sneakers? Whatever it is, I halved it—and then I flew out the door in the sundress I’d slept in, and I sprinted down the hall.
But Cooper, I may have mentioned, is a pretty fast walker.
He was almost to the elevators before I even made it to the hallway. “Cooper! Wait!” I called—but he didn’t.
