Best I Ever Had, page 32
“That’d be nice.”
It’s not a date on the calendar, but I’ll take the positive reaction. Some things take time, and I’m not sure Story and I should rush any changes in Reed’s life. I’m not looking for an upheaval, but more of a slow adjustment where it’s normal for me to be around. And then one day, maybe that name change.
Rocking back on her heels, she asks, “So, the zoo?” She nudges me with her elbow. “I bet you’re excited about that.” The sarcasm is duly noted.
Sliding my hands into my front pockets, I look at Story. Us in our matching alma mater T-shirts, both a little older, but God, she’s still so beautiful. I think life has been harder on us, making us detour when we would have preferred a straight shot. But slowly and steadily, I’m starting to think we’re getting back on the same track. At least, I hope we are. “Everything with the two of you is exciting to me.”
She looks at me, strands of hair escaping from her ponytail and the streetlamp shining in her eyes. Tilting her head, she asks, “What?” with a modicum of shyness creeping in. “What are you looking at, Cooper?”
I want to kiss her. I want to hold her in my arms again, knowing it’s not just because of some tragedy that forced us together. I want to go to bed with her, even if we didn’t have sex, just for one more chance to wake up with her in my arms and watch the sunrise in her eyes. I remember so much about that morning in May six years ago—brushing our teeth together and kissing in the shower until the water ran cold, coffee and donuts from the gas station as I filled the tank before we headed to Haywood for my graduation party. How she loved me. I could see it in her eyes. I felt it in her touch. My soul knew I’d never survive without hers wrapped around it.
I never got the warning that it was the last time we’d do those things, we’d love that hard, or we’d be us.
I want what we used to have so badly I could shout, but only on one condition. Reed would still be a part of the package. “I just like looking at you, babe.”
She blushes, tucking her hair behind her ear, not caring that I slipped in the name at the end like it’s another time, another opportunity for us.
The front door opens, and we startle apart like we were busted doing something we shouldn’t. Lila looks at us and shakes her head. “We’re going to bed,” she announces, then points at me. “You’re going to make sure this one . . .” She nods to Story. “Gets home safely.”
Story checks her watch. “What do you mean, you’re going to bed? It’s eight o’clock.”
“Jake’s already reading, Reed’s asleep, and yeah, Lou and I are heading upstairs. But us going to bed doesn’t mean you have to.” She waggles her eyebrows. “Take this as an opportunity to go out and have some fun.” She shrugs. “Or stay in, just not here.” She tosses Story her purse. “I’ll get Reed to school in the morning. Have fun, you two.”
Story’s mouth is hanging open when the door shuts. Two bolts and what sounds like a chain are slid into place. “I’m thinking she means it,” I say.
Stomping down the steps, she says, “She definitely means it.” When she reaches the sidewalk, Story turns to look back up at me. “Well? You heard the lady. We don’t have to go home, but we can’t stay here. Are you coming, Dr. Haywood?”
I jog down the steps. “Abso-fucking-lutely.” Stopping next to her, I ask, “Where are we going?”
Story wouldn’t let me enter her duplex, conveniently located around the corner from Lila, but she left the door open for me to peek in. The space feels big with the height of the ceilings and the walls painted white. Shelves of colorful books are tucked between two large windows. On the opposite side is a wall of eclectically framed photos I imagine she took, breaking up the gallery feel. Toys litter one side of the living room, and cups left on the table bring the most human element to the space.
For every inch of white, there’s an equal section of color. She runs down the stairs, her lips glossed and the wild strands tamed by the elastic. She didn’t change clothes, but I catch a whiff of her floral scent when she dashes out and turns to lock the door. “Snoop,” she says with a smile she’s struggling to restrain.
Leaning against the railing, I chuckle. “I don’t know what you’re hiding in there. You have great taste.”
“Thanks, but I’m hiding the mess.” The street is quiet. Other than the occasional car passing by, I’ve only seen a family going for a stroll. It makes me happy that Reed lives somewhere he can see blue skies instead of only skyscrapers. That patches of grass exist nearby, even if they’re small, rather than needing to head five blocks or more to a park.
Still embarrassed, she goes on, “Between my schedule and Reed’s, I’m not as neat as I used to be. I would have cleaned up if I were expecting guests.”
I don’t like the sound of that. Does she have guests over? I’ll have to revisit this. “I liked the way it looked. Mine is . . . lifeless in comparison.” Ready for that visit, I say, “Maybe I can come over sometime and help put together the puzzle on the floor?”
Tucking her key into her bag, she nods. “Reed would love that. Just let me know your schedule. I’m sure you work crazy hours.”
“Yeah, it’s busy, but we’ve just set our new schedules for the next six months and hired two new doctors, so I won’t be working eighty hours a week anymore.”
“Don’t burn yourself out,” she says, her voice dipping in concern. It’s not just the worry I hear. I detect it in her eyes when she passes me.
“I could come by when I’m on call. It would be just as easy being here as at my place to take calls.”
We start down the steps, and she asks, “I just realized I have no idea where you live. I bet you live in a fancy tower in Manhattan.” I do, but I’m having flashes of college come back—a conversation of the building I lived in then versus how cozy her little studio walkup was. Glancing back at her front door, I find not much has changed in our styles. We’ve just grown up.
“It’s a nice building.”
She only takes a few steps down the sidewalk before stopping. “Doorman?”
“Yes. His name is Frank.”
“That’s a good solid name. Is Frank a solid guy?”
Chuckling, I reply, “Yes, Frank is good people.” That makes her smile for some reason. It doesn’t matter what either of us achieves or earns or our successes. She’s always making sure others are treated right. She should be protected at all costs.
Rolling her hand on an outstretched arm, she sing-songs, “We’re here.”
I look behind her at the empty sidewalk and the row of homes and back to her front door. “Where?”
She nods her head to the left and then clicks a button. We both stand on the edge of the single-car driveway watching the garage door roll up. It only takes a few feet to expose the contents inside. “Holy shit!” I run my hands into my hair and squat down before it. “You kept my car!”
“Shh.” She laughs. “You’re going to disturb the neighbors.” Pulling the key from her back pocket, she dangles it off the tip of her finger. “As for keeping it, I really had no choice. It was either sell it on the illegal market, return it to your parents, which I just decided that was not going to happen, or keep it since I didn’t have the title or any documentation. Want to take it for a spin?”
I snatch the key from her. “Shit yeah. Get in.”
“Well, I kind of can’t until you pull it out of the garage. Tight space and all.”
“Wait right there.” I take a slow, appreciative approach. “Look at you, girl,” I whisper, dragging my fingertips over the hood. I rest my cheek against the cool metal. “I missed you.”
“You’re ridiculous, Cooper. You know that, right?”
“I have no shame in my Jaguar-loving game.” I slide into the driver’s seat and start the engine. “That purr,” I say, rubbing her dash. She’s in mint condition. I look through the windshield at the woman standing with her hand on her hip and teasingly tapping her foot. She jokes about not selling it, but this could have brought in six figures even with depreciation. She deals with finances, so I know she understands the value. I prefer to think she kept it in great condition for me, or even for Reed, which is the same thing.
Basically, my baby took care of both my babies.
* * *
Maybe hope hasn’t flown out the window, and there’s a second chance for us.
I chuckle as she sticks out her leg and pops her thumb in the air. As soon as I pull out of the garage, Story’s opening the car door before I can put it in park and open it for her myself. She buckles in and asks, “We have all night. Where are we going?”
“I have an early shift.”
“I have an early meeting.”
The excitement fizzles. “We’re not kids anymore.”
Laughter escaping, she says, “We’re also not old enough to say we’re not kids anymore.”
Chuckling, I shift into gear. “You’re right. Hungry?”
“Depends. What are the options?”
“Gas station dog and a thirty-two ouncer?”
She leans back in her seat, angling her head toward me. “Thought you’d never ask.”
I didn’t mention the gas station was in Jersey, but Story didn’t mind. We talked about our work and lives, our favorite parks to walk, how she ate a Danish in front of Tiffany’s on 5th Avenue like Audrey Hepburn, and our Christmas spent in the hotel.
And then we rode in the car, neither of us needing to fill the silence between us.
Until I do because I’m feeling every second of this time with her, and it feels amazing. “I missed this,” I say, keeping my voice befitting the hour as we drive back to her place just before midnight.
Her head rolls left. She looks tired. “Driving your car?”
“No.” I glance over at her again, starting to struggle myself.
I lose her attention as she turns forward, her gaze lengthening through the windshield. “Me too.”
Trapped in a car is probably not the best time to bring up certain topics, but I’m tired and don’t want to play games with her. “Reed told me he thought I was your boyfriend because he overheard you say you love me.”
Her mouth opens, and her finger rises, then it closes, and she lowers her finger. She finally huffs. “I did say that, Cooper. I was telling Lila that I was so in love with you, referring to, you know . . .” Her voice goes quiet. “Back in college. He must have overheard only part of it. I shouldn’t have said anything at all. It’s probably confusing to him.”
“He didn’t seem confused. He didn’t seem to mind at all.”
“He’s five and doesn’t understand how life works.”
Gripping the steering wheel, I say, “I do, and I was so in love with you.”
There’s no great moment shared or anything to mark this as a memory. I’m not sure if she’s pretending she didn’t hear me when her window slides down, or if she’s at a loss for words. “It mattered then, not so much now.” But I hear the disappointment in her tone and see the sadness in her eyes.
“We don’t have to be left in the past just because it’s been that way.”
Her head is already shaking before I get the words out. “I can’t risk being hurt.”
“Everything’s a risk. Being in this car right now is a risk, but you’re still sitting here with the wind blowing on you. You’re tasting the freedom of escaping the city—”
“But I did that in the safety of the vehicle with a seat belt keeping me secure.”
Reaching over, I take her hand and hold it on the console. “Can’t you see? You did that in the safety of us because we were secure.”
“We were breakable, which is why we broke.” She breaks our hold and rests her hand on her lap.
“I’m not accepting that bullshit anymore.”
Offense widens her eyes, and her mouth drops open. “You’re not accepting what?”
“We got a raw deal, Story, the short end of the fucking stick when it came to our relationship.” I pull up to a red light and stop. Looking at her, I say, “We deserved better. We deserve a second chance.”
“A second chance?” At least she didn’t scoff, but less shock and more happiness would have been preferable. The light turns green, but I sit there, refusing to take my eyes off her.
Her eyes volley between mine and the light like she’s watching a tennis match. “Cooper, go.”
“No.”
She glances over her shoulder, but with no other car behind us to pressure me to go, she knows we’re staying. “What do you want me to say? You want me to say, come on back, Cooper, all is in the past?”
“Can’t you? Will you never forgive me?”
“It’s not about forgiveness. Honestly.” Her shoulders lose momentum and fall as she sighs. “I already forgave you because there’s nothing to forgive.”
A rush of confusion rolls through me as I try to reconcile the words so they make sense. “What are you saying?”
She’s hesitant, but then her hand returns to mine. “I’m saying that nothing you did led to my mom’s death.” She wipes at the tears I didn’t notice had filled her eyes. “He would have killed her anyway.”
“But—”
“If I blamed you, I’d have to blame myself for wearing those shorts. You see how none of it makes sense. Me wearing shorts doesn’t make someone kill another person.” She takes her hand away again, and I let her, though I want to hold tight until we get through this. “You hitting his truck or him getting a ticket doesn’t force his hand and make him do what he did.”
“He was going to do it anyway.”
Her gaze falls to her lap, and her fingers fidget together. “Don’t you see, Cooper? We could have worked this out back then.” When her eyes find mine, I see the devastation of what could have been. “We could have still been together and fought through this.”
I check the rearview mirror again. The only cars are beside us. Finally, the universe is on our side. “I can’t change the decisions I made or how you were treated behind my back. We were both abandoned in a sense, but if I could, if I could go back and change everything, I would for a second chance.”
“Not everything.”
“Not Reed.” I grin just thinking about him. And then she smiles too. I take a heavy breath in the lighter moment, but it’s only a momentary reprieve. “There are so many regrets weighing us down that the only remedy is to be open to the possibility.”
The light turns red, but this time, a car is waiting behind us. Fuck. I say, “Tell me I’m not the only one who feels something still between us? That I’m not alone thinking this might not be such a bad idea?”
Looking out the window, she bites on her lower lip and shakes her head. “We don’t make sense. We never did, Cooper. It wasn’t a lack of love that tore us apart.”
“It was a lack of trust.” The light turns green, and I drive this time.
Silence is a copilot as we drive the rest of the way. It’s not the comfortable silence we usually sit in. This one was full of tension and unresolved feelings being exchanged. I can only imagine the thoughts going through her head. She must hate me.
I back into the driveway, and she gets out before I return the car to the garage.
Story isn’t flashy. She’s not the bragging type either. She’s true to herself and honest with everyone else. I see the look on her face, the wall that’s gone up around her as I trek up the driveway to the sidewalk, and I fucking hate that I’m the cause of it being there. As soon as I reach her, I hold up the keys. “Thanks.”
“Keep them. They were always yours.” I’m discovering we were always each other’s, even when we weren’t.
We stare at each other, neither making a rushed move to get away. It’s tempting to pocket the keys and come take her and Reed for a ride sometime, but I give them back to her. “It’s your car. I’ll make sure to get you the paperwork, so everything is legal and on the up-and-up.” When she doesn’t take them, I add, “You never did answer my question.”
The garage door begins to roll down, catching my attention. When I turn back, she’s heading for the front steps. I would have walked her to the door anyway, but I also don’t want Lila kicking my ass. She finally stops midway, and says, “I don’t have the luxury to make a misstep.”
“And that’s what I’d be? A misstep?”
The hold on her bag tightens, and she elevates her chin just enough to notice. “You’re Reed’s father, Cooper, and that’s more important than what I feel.”
“So you do feel something for me?”
“I’d be lying if I said otherwise.”
I’ll take that. I’ll take that door opening, and one day, she might open it all the way. I nod, feeling we made progress in a good direction. “It was a good day.”
She grins. “The best.”
I start down the steps, pulling my phone out to call a cab. A car drives by, and I look up at her. She’s opening the door but stops and turns back. When our eyes meet again, she asks, “Want to come in?”
42
Story
I don’t know what I’m doing, but it doesn’t feel wrong. It never did with Cooper.
He doesn’t run up the steps. Instead, he takes each one with purpose. My heart skips a beat when he reaches me, my eyes dipping closed as if we’re about to kiss.
Gah! I wish he’d kiss me again.
On the head.
The cheek.
My neck.
The lips. I’m not picky. I just want one more kiss to tide me over. But I know one more will never be enough. Not with him. He could kiss me day and night, and it would only make the craving stronger.
I open my eyes.
He says, “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”
“Sometimes life does that.”
“When you—oh, fuck it.” He cups my face, and his lips crash into mine.
