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“I don’t blame you . . . I’m not mad . . . You saved him, something no one did for me.”
Maybe he’s telling the truth. Maybe I can trust him.
I didn’t have a father in my life, so I never knew what I was missing, but Calliope kept my hands full anyway. I have the hindsight to look back and pick the moments I love to remember. I’m still shuffling through the ones I want to forget. But my Reed, my sweet son, deserves the world . . . And his dad.
Only if Cooper has really cut off contact with his family. I search his eyes for something that will expose the lie, but I only find the same raw honesty he used to have when he’d tell me he loved me.
I should think this over and not make any rash decisions. But my soul is still drawn to him, my heart recalling how good we once were together. We didn’t break us apart. We lost faith and let others intervene.
Legally, he’s risking everything by sharing this information with me. I’m confused why he would fight for years to win if he’s willing to risk it all if I open my mouth to the press. Left with only one question, I ask, “If you had to sign a nondisclosure agreement to get the money, why did you tell me?”
“It’s all I have to give as a guarantee that you can trust me.”
37
Cooper
Story has been troubling her bottom lip for the past three minutes. I’ve kept track of the time.
On the one hand, I appreciate how protective she is of her, of our, son. I honestly could have never asked for a better mother for my kids. On the other hand, she holds all the cards; everything has been laid on the table. All she has to do is make a phone call to a reporter or post the settlement details online. Tell a friend who likes to gossip, or use it against me to keep our son, my son, from me.
I understand the time she’s taking to weigh the options. Every second kills an ounce of hope I was admittedly, stupidly, holding on to inside.
“You once promised me,” she says, “that you would never hurt me.”
“I remember.” I remember breaking that promise every day of my life. How could I have known what I did as a teenager would come back to haunt me? She’ll never forgive me for that, but I don’t forgive myself either.
“I left my door unlocked for you. The other side of the bed remained empty until the day I moved out. I can’t watch Breakfast at Tiffany’s on Christmas anymore because instead of my mom, I think of you.”
“It’s a sad movie anyway.”
She scoffs in laughter as tears spring to her eyes. “You once said we’re all a little sad, but some of us are better at hiding it than others. I didn’t really understand what you meant back then. I do now.”
“I’m sorry for stealing your sunshine, Story.”
“It’s still here behind the clouds.”
The server shows up and starts clearing the plates. “Anything else?”
“I’m good,” I reply, sitting back to give her space but keeping my eyes on the woman across from me as this meal starts wrapping up. Still watching and waiting for her to open all the way up. “Story?”
She pauses, glancing at the server, but when she looks at me again, she says, “I think I’m good.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm-hmm.” There’s a certainty to her tone and the confident nod of her head that has me feeling the progress we’ve made. I just hope we can hold on to it.
When the server sets the bill down, I reach for my wallet and hand my card over just before she leaves the table. “I’d like to get this.”
Story says, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
An awkwardness is quick to invade the empty table between us, but then she says, “Cooper? I’ve been afraid to ask you something.” She shrugs. “Many things, actually, but we don’t have time for that.”
“I have the time.”
She smiles, one filled with that sunshine we mentioned. “Unfortunately, I don’t.” She taps her watch. “Not today.” Another day?
My back straightens to attention because she genuinely looks disappointed. I just don’t think I can push her into another meeting. It’s her call what happens next. Again, she holds all the cards because I willingly took the risk and gave them freely. I wouldn’t have done that for anyone else.
Knowing she has other places to be today, our time feels rushed, so I ask, “What was it that you wanted to ask me? You can ask me anything.”
She takes a sip of her water, then leans in conspiratorially. “You don’t owe me the answer, Cooper.” I love hearing her say my name without hate embodied in it. “But I don’t see a ring or even an indentation where one used to be. You said you’re not dating Heather, but did you marry Camille?”
