Picking up my phone from my desk, I pull up my message thread with Copeland.I’m surprised he hasn’t reached out by now.My guess is that even though he wants to have this conversation, he’s dreading it, too.
Before I know what’s happening, I’m typing out a message and hitting send.Regret instantly hits me at the change of location.Do I really want him in my space?There are so many memories there of us together as kids.
Me: My place.6 PM.
His reply is immediate.
Copeland: I’ll be there.
Copeland: I’ll bring dinner.
Me: That’s not necessary.This isn’t a date.
Copeland: We both still have to eat.See you at 6.
Dropping my phone to my desk, I bury my face in my hands and groan.I’m not ready for this.I’m not, but my heart still flutters knowing that I get to see him in less than three hours.Shit, I need to go home and get ready.Shutting down my laptop, I grab my things and head out the door.
My sisters are already gone.That means I have the house all to myself, and my sisters won’t question why I’m taking my second shower of the day and shaving all my bits and pieces that have been neglected for far too long.I mean, it’s spring, so we just went through the cold months.And since it’s been years since I’ve been with a man, I figured nobody was going to be seeing me in my birthday suit, so why not go natural for a bit?
Time to change that.
I take my time in the shower, letting the hot spray roll over me as I handle my business.After drying off, I apply moisturizer everywhere before getting dressed.I don’t want him to know that I tried too hard, so I opt for a pair of black leggings and a long-sleeved Hideaway T-shirt.
My hair is poker straight on a bad day, so all I need to do is blow-dry and brush it out, and I’m good.I apply some waterproof mascara, because I’m sure this conversation, wherever it leads, will involve tears, and some clear lip gloss.With one final look in the mirror, I make my way downstairs.
I light a candle to make the house smell good—not for him, but for me.It’s something our mom used to do all the time growing up, and it’s a habit that’s stuck with all four of us girls.I have no doubt Baylor does the same at her place in New York, and if and when any of us venture out to our own places, we’ll do it there, as well.
I’m too nervous to sit, so I unload the dishwasher and wipe the counter that doesn’t need to be wiped down.It’s better than sitting and watching the clock.At five minutes before six, there’s a knock at the door.I pause, pull in a deep breath, and slowly exhale before my bare feet carry me to the front door.
With a hand on the handle, I freeze.I count backward from ten, just as another knock sounds, and I tug open the door.Copeland stands there with a bag from the local diner in his hands.He’s wearing faded jeans, his cowboy boots, a flannel that’s hanging open, and damn him for the fucking cowboy hat.He knows how much I loved him in that hat.It looks a little different right now because his hair is so short, but in time, he’ll look like the old Copeland, just a little older.
And sexier.
“Hi.”I wave because, of course, I’m going to be awkward around him, and step back, allowing him to enter.“It’s just us.My sisters, well, two of them, went to the Hideaway.Baylor is living in New York.Chasing her dreams of big-city life.”I laugh nervously.
“I assumed it would just be us.”He holds up the bag in his hands.“I don’t know if their burritos are still your favorite, so I also grabbed your second favorite, too, the turkey club melt.”
“I can’t eat all of that.”
Copeland shrugs.“I wasn’t sure, but I was hopeful that one of the two would hit the spot for you.”
“Thank you, Copeland.The burrito will always be my favorite.A chili burrito covered with more chili, lettuce, tomato, cheese, and sour cream, yes, please,” I say, laughing, because again, I’m making a fool out of myself.
“Good to know,” he says, his voice husky.“Do you want to eat while it’s still warm?”
“Uh, yeah, we can do that.This way.”I turn and lead him toward the kitchen.“Not that you’ve never been here,” I say.
He places the bag on the table, then that same hand reaches out to settle on my shoulder.“It’s just me, Ells.”
I hate that he can read me so well after all these years.“I don’t know who you are anymore.”
“You do.I’m still me.”His tone is gentle, yet it holds something else.Something that sounds a lot like yearning or maybe regret.
I ignore his words because he changed the minute he walked away from me and never looked back.That’s not the Copeland I fell in love with.“Let’s eat,” I say instead.I grab two beers from the fridge, because I’m thinking we’re both going to need them, and place one in front of him.Copeland waits until I’m seated before taking a seat himself.
The only sound filling the room is us as we eat.The silence is killing me.“How’s your mom?”
He swallows and takes a drink of his beer before answering.“As good as can be expected.She’s staying positive.She starts chemo next week.”
