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“Damn it,” she mutters under her breath as she takes a step toward the wagon and the supplies slip through her arm and spill onto the floor, scattering across the carpet.
“Let me.” I move to her side before she can protest and begin to gather up the items, trying to ignore the tension radiating from her.
“Coop, I told you I don’t need your help,” she says, her voice taut. “I can handle this.”
“Of course, you can,” I reply, my tone gentle but firm. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t offer. I’m helping you because I want to, because I would do the same for anyone, not because I think you need me.”
A heavy silence settles between us while we load the wagon. She doesn’t acknowledge my words, but I sense a shift in her demeanor, as though my sincerity has found a crack in her carefully constructed walls.
After the wagon has been piled high and everything is packed up, we rise and she meets my eyes.
“When can I see you again?” I ask.
“Never.” Her tone is matter-of-fact but laced with something that sounds almost like sorrow.
I search her face for any sign of hesitation or regret, but her jaw is set and her lips press together in a universal sign of determination. Why is she so hellbent on keeping me at arm’s length?
“Is that really what you want?” If she’s going to push me away, she’ll have to say the words.
“Coop, you’re…” She glances around the playroom as if searching for words and then heaves a sigh. “You’re…you. Thank you for this morning, really. But let’s not pretend this is something it isn’t.”
You’re…you.Not ‘you’re you and I’m me.’ No, she’s saying I’m good enough to fuck, but not good enough to date. And the sentiment renders me speechless.
Cooper
It’sMondayafternoonandofficial. Eve must have meant what she said about never seeing me again. The school day at Edison Elementary ended nearly an hour ago and still nothing. Not a peep, though I’ve messaged her twice more today.
I’m so busy staring out the window I don’t realize the video call with our Munich team has ended until the screen on the wall goes dark and folks start to rise. I push back from the conference table and roll my neck, but the knot between my shoulders doesn’t ease. It moved in yesterday and hasn’t budged since. I need an aspirin, or better yet, a double scotch on the rocks.
Actually, what I really need is a text back from Eve.
Luke’s oversized office clears, except for Luke and Mallory, the third in our trio of friends from Wharton and the Director of Public Relations for AV Industries. He moves to his desk, and she arches a perfectly shaped eyebrow at me and leans back in her chair as if she’s got all the time in the world.
“Alright, Coop, what’s eating you?” she asks, folding her arms across her navy blouse.
“Nothing.”
“During the call you ran your hands through your hair no less than twice, checked your phone at least eighty times, drummed your fingers on the desk nonstop, and shot a death glare at the screen when the plant director mentioned the delay with the parts manufacturer.” She ticks off the examples on her fingers, her red nail polish flashing in the air.
I look at Luke, but he only glances up from his phone long enough to take her side. “I’m with Mallory on this one. You do seem off your game.”
“Rough weekend?” she asks, her smile widening at the sight of my scowl when she realizes she’s hit a nerve.
I shake my head, forcing a tight smile. “Forget it, Mal. It’s nothing, really.”
“Weren’t you going to have that sleepover this weekend?” Luke asks, distracted. “For your niece?”
“The sleepover went great.”
This seems to catch Luke’s attention, and his gaze focuses on me. “You didn’t hit on that woman, did you?”
Mallory leans forward, all ears. “What woman?”
“The woman who owns a luxury sleepover company, and no,” I say, giving Luke a pointed look. “But she did hit on me.”
“Wait, don’t tell me.” Mallory looks between the two of us. “Let me guess. This woman is gorgeous and hit on you, and then, when you went to act on it, she turned you down cold.”
“That is nowhere close to what happened.”
