But he read my voice. “No?”
I thought about it. Then I walked back over to the trash can, pulled the dress back out, and shook it.
“What are you doing?” Cooper said.
I brushed the dress off. Then I started folding it up.
“That thing is not coming back in my car.”
“It’s not your car. It’s a rental.”
But Cooper couldn’t fathom what I was doing.
The dress was not exactly easy to fold. It wound up in a wad. I found my pantyhose on the sand and used them to strangle it into a bundle.
“This is crazy,” Cooper said. Then he pointed at the trash can. “Put it back.”
But I shook my head. “No.”
“It’s been torturing you all day. Get rid of it.”
“No.”
At that, Cooper darted in and grabbed it out of my arms.
“Hey!” I said, chasing him. “Give it back!”
“Free yourself!” Cooper shouted as I swiped and missed, and swiped and missed.
We were running around in circles now.
“Give it back!” I kept shouting.
“Never!” he kept responding.
Finally, breathless, I stopped running.
Wary, Cooper stopped, too. “Why won’t you do this for yourself? Just get rid of it.”
“It’s herwedding dress, Cooper.”
“Were you not back there in that church? Did you not hear the vicious crap she said to you?”
I took a breath. “I just left her only son at the altar.”
“Don’t tell me you regret it,” Cooper said. “That dude was texting the whole time.”
I looked out at the ocean. “I’m not sure how I feel about it. But one thing’s pretty clear. Throwing that woman’s wedding dress away just now didn’t make me feel better. It made me feel worse.”
ANYWAY—THAT’S HOW COOPERruined my wedding.
Classic Cooper.
As we sat on the steps of the Seawall, eating my pile of snacks and watching the whitecaps breaking on the black ocean, I assumed he’d be back home now for a few days. For a little visit, at least. That he’d see his mom, and binge eat some Tex-Mex while the getting was good, and hang out with me—as penance for dismantling my life, if nothing else.
But I was wrong.
His visit to Texas lasted less than twenty-four hours.
