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“Don’t do it, Abigail,” Cooper made a grab for it, but she jumped up, hit the power button and held her breath when the news channel erupted onto the screen.
“Oh God,” Abby wailed. But what had she expected? The Tucker Simon Missing Wife Saga as it was being called, was headline news.
Abby’s photo was plastered across the television. She blinked her eyes, hating the sight of such a private moment caught on film, but it did nothing. The image didn’t magically disappear.
She saw her red coat. Her red boots. Her special Valentine’s Day outfit. The one she’d put together for what was supposed to be a special night. Had it been only a few days?
Someone had snapped the photo when she’d arrived in the lobby of the hotel. When Tucker had turned to her and scooped her up into his arms. She couldn’t see his face, but oh, the pain on hers was unmistakable and Abby felt all those emotions all over again.
Her throat closed up and she couldn’t swallow.
The news anchor was talking—Abby had the television on mute—and then Abby’s photo disappeared, replaced with a smiling shot of Tucker and Marley on their wedding day.
It was a beautiful picture, and it crushed Abby’s heart.
Oh, God. I can’t do this.
She was about to turn away when new footage appeared. Footage she was hungry for, and instead, she clutched the remote to her chest, biting her bottom lip in an effort to quiet the pain she felt as she watched grainy video of Tucker exiting a van, accompanied by Jack, Teague, and Marley’s parents.
God, he looked so damn tired—even with his aviators on, she could tell. It was in the way his mouth was tight—the way he kept rubbing his chin and tugging on the long ends of his hair.
“Oh, Tucker,” she murmured, near tears. She wanted to be there with him. God, how she needed to touch him.
“Hey,” Cooper said quietly. “Give me that.”
Abby let him take the remote, though her fingers shook so badly she was barely able to hand it off. She turned away from the television, once more eyes drawn to the blackness outside.
“So,” Cooper said. “Your family bar sounds pretty damn good right about now. Let’s go.”
She shrugged and didn’t say anything, because she wasn’t sure she could talk. Abby wanted to crawl into bed and cry her eyes out. She wanted to bury her nose in the sheets and inhale Tucker’s scent. Maybe then she would feel close to him. Maybe then she could feel some kind of peace.
“I think you should make me a drink,” he said.
“Cooper, I don’t know.”
“I do,” he said. “A Mathews special.”
She thought back to the wedding. To that first time she met him and a small smile crept over her face. “A Martini?”
“Nah. I’m more of a Slippery Nipple kind of guy.”
“Why am I not surprised? But that’s a shooter.”
“Huh.” He winked. “Well, I’d like a Slippery Nipple and then you can give me some Sex on the Beach.”
“Sex on the Beach is hard to come by in New York City in the middle of February, but I supposed we could try.”
“I appreciate that.”
Abby exhaled a long shuddering breath and whispered. “Thanks for being here, Cooper.”
He bowed his head. “No problem.”
“You’re a good guy. You know that, right?”
“Don’t be spreading that around.”
Abby sighed. “Why do you want people thinking you’re a dick? Why do you hide behind that?”
