Chapter Twelve

Cooper

I didn't see that coming.

How could I have done? I thought Mallory left because she had a headache, not because she thought I'd used her.

I didn't, but that doesn't mean she didn't feel like that. And although it was never my intention, the fact that I can't explain why I invited her to the festival, and that I knew Meredith would be there with Zeke Hooper by her side, definitely counted against me.

Which must be why I feel so bad. It's not just disappointment that we're not having dinner together tonight. It's not just regret that she felt she had to lie to me about having a headache, so she could get away.

It's more than that.

It feels like my insides have been ripped out.

I feel hollow. Empty. Numb.

Because, even if I didn't do all the things she accused me of, I let her down. Our day wasn't what she thought it was going to be. Hell, it wasn't what I thought it was going to be, either. But this isn't about me. It's about Mallory and her perception of me… which I think has taken a serious hit after today.

The question is, what can I do about it?

It's an odd sensation to want to try, but I do. I need to work out what can I do to get us back on track… back to where we were when the thought of spending time with me was exciting to her. That's what I need. I need to see that in person, instead of hearing about it from someone else. I need to know it's real.

Going back up there doesn't seem like the wisest move. I can still hear the distrust in her voice… still see the hurt and anger in her eyes, and I'm not sure I'm ready to face her again.

Not yet.

I keep repeating our conversation, but I can't get my head around it all. That's because I've never done any of this before, but it's also because I hadn't expected things to go the way they did. I'd already worked out that I couldn't ask her outright why she'd been so excited about spending the day with me. Laurel clearly knew and wasn't willing to say for some reason, but that didn't make it any easier for me to ask Mallory, did it? So, I decided to ask her to have dinner with me instead, in the hope I'd find a way to ask her then. Not in so many words, perhaps, but as part of a longer, more interesting conversation. That was all I wanted… to have dinner with her, and to find out what was going on, while discovering more about her than the content of her resume. I honestly thought she'd say ‘yes'. Call me arrogant, or conceited, or self-obsessed, but I never anticipated a ‘no', or that she'd have seen things the way she did.

Not in a million years.

Something must be very wrong with me, because I can't even face food. I can't think straight enough to focus on the movie I've selected to watch, and in the end, I give up and take a shower, ignoring my hard-on for once, and climbing into bed, staring at the ceiling.

Don't get me wrong… I never expected that I'd be spending the night with Mallory. I hadn't planned anything, really. Not even asking her to the Fall Festival, it seems. But my heart hurts at the thought that she's upstairs thinking badly of me, while I'm down here wanting to make things right between us, and I have to say, I've never felt more lonely in my life.

I wake late, mostly because I didn't get to sleep until the early hours. Thoughts of Mallory kept me awake. Not the usual ones that revolve around her lying naked on my bed, but ones where she was looking at me like she didn't know me… and like she didn't want to.

It wasn't a comfortable feeling, and certainly wasn't conducive to sleep, although I must have got there in the end, because when I open my eyes, the sun's shining in through the window. I can tell it's later than usual, though, just by the angle of the shadows, and when I check my watch, I'm surprised to find it's already gone ten.

I'm not hungry, but I am thirsty, and I climb out of bed, pull on a pair of shorts and head straight for the kitchen, where I fix myself a coffee, standing with my back to the countertop while I drink it.

I don't feel any better than I did last night, and while I know I need to talk to Mallory, talking has never been my strong point… not with women, anyway. And certainly not about things like this. Not that I've ever needed to have a conversation about anything so intimate before. I mean… sure, I've discussed sex in just about all its various forms, but I've never talked about feelings or emotions… or love.

That word rattles around my head.

Love… love… love.

Can it be?

Does it even make sense?

I'm not sure anything does. My head's in such a mess, and I push myself off of the countertop, wandering into the living area, and picking up my phone from the coffee table. I left it here last night, and I flip it over in my hand for a minute or two before I turn it to face me and click on my contacts, finding Brady's number. I connect a call to him and put the phone onto speaker, wandering back into the bedroom.

"Hi," he says, sounding a little out of breath.

"Sorry. Did I interrupt something?"

"Not what you're probably thinking, no. I was just fixing some new shelves in Addy's room, and I couldn't find my phone."

"So, you're busy?"

"Fairly. Why? Is something wrong?"

"No. Not at all." Even I don't believe myself, and I hear him let out a sigh and imagine his smile at the other end of the line.

"I don't think anyone would fall for that, and I'm your oldest friend, so there's no way you're fooling me. What's happened?"

I'll have to tell him. It's why I called, even if I've never been in this position before… with him, or anyone else.

"It's Mallory, and it's… well, it's kinda complicated."

"I see. Do you wanna come over?"

"Would you hate me if I said ‘no'?"

"I wouldn't hate you, but I'd be intrigued to know why."

"Because Laurel clearly knows something about Mallory that she's not willing to tell. I don't wanna put her in the position of feeling like she has to reveal a confidence, but at the same time…" I can't think how to finish that sentence, so I don't even try.

"You need to talk?" he says, doing it for me.

"Yes."

I don't know how he can say that so easily, but I'm relieved one of us can.

"Okay. I can meet you at the coffee shop in… say, an hour?"

"Are you sure? I mean, is Laurel gonna be okay if you leave her?"

"She'll be fine, as long as I'm not out for too long."

"Okay."

"See you there," he says and we end the call.

I already feel a little better, just knowing I'll be able to talk to Brady. I'm sure he'll make sense of what's going on… because I certainly can't.

All I can do is fix myself another coffee and take a shower.

It's about all I'm capable of.

It's not as warm today as it was yesterday, so I'm wearing jeans and a sweater, and so is Brady, when I join him at the coffee shop. He arrived just a few minutes before me, but hasn't ordered, and I sit opposite him at one of the tables by the window.

"Flat white?" he says, getting to his feet, and I nod my head, watching as he makes his way over to the counter.

There's a new guy working here. I think his name's Owen, although we haven't been formally introduced. That's probably because I don't come in here very often anymore. I used to come with Brady, from time to time, but that was before he got together with Laurel and became a family man. Owen's helping Everly behind the counter today, and he seems like a nice enough guy. Annoyingly handsome, but nice enough.

Brady brings the drinks back with him, setting them down before he sits and stares across at me.

"Did you get the shelves finished?" I ask, taking a sip of scalding coffee.

"Yes."

I nod my head and glance around as Everly comes out from behind the counter to clear one of the tables. She's got to be around six or seven months pregnant, I guess, and I have to say, it suits her.

"I wonder why Everly didn't tell Seth about the baby," I whisper, and Brady turns, glancing at her before he looks back at me.

"How do we know she didn't?"

"You mean, you think she told him and he didn't wanna know?"

"Who can say? We don't know what happened between them. Although I think Seth was the kind of guy who'd have stuck around."

"You can't be sure of that," I say.

"Yeah, I can. Just like I can be absolutely certain you're trying to dodge talking about Mallory, even though that's why we're here." He moves his cup slightly to one side and leans in a little, lowering his voice. "Tell me what's happened. I know something has. You left the festival yesterday to go talk to her."

I think about how true that is. I practically ran out on Brady and Laurel, barely bothering to say ‘goodbye', in my desperation to see Mallory.

"I know."

"And?"

"And what?"

He rolls his eyes, like he's finding this hard work. "Well… according to Laurel, Mallory likes you, so…"

"Laurel told you that?" I sit forward, interrupting him.

He shrugs his shoulders. "She refused to give me too much information, because she thought I might tell you, but from what I could gather, yeah… Mallory likes you." I let out a sigh, staring at the space between us. "You're not gonna tell me you don't like her, are you?" he says. "Because if you are, I won't believe you."

"No, it's not that."

"Good. Because it's fairly clear to me that you're in love with her."

I look up at him, and he smiles. "Is it that obvious?"

He chuckles. "No. But I've known you nearly all your life, and I don't remember you ever asking to talk to me about a woman. Not once."

"That's not true, and you know it. I'm almost always talking about women."

"Yeah… about superficial things, like how beautiful they are, or how sexy they look. Hell, not that long ago, you'd probably have made some kind of remark about how good Everly looks, and what a fool Seth must have been to leave her. I can almost hear you saying it."

"Yeah… well… that was then."

"Exactly. That was before you fell in love with Mallory."

"Okay, okay." I hold up my hands in surrender and he smiles at me, both of us sitting back and relaxing a little, now we both know where we're at in this conversation.

"Have you told her how you feel?" he asks, picking up his cup again.

"No."

"Why not? Love isn't something you should keep to yourself, you know. It works a lot better when you share it."

"Says the man who kept his love hidden for years."

"That was different. Laurel was married to Mitch. I could hardly declare my undying love for her, could I?"

"No, but I'm not sure I can, either."

"I say again, why not? You went back there yesterday to talk to her, didn't you?"

"Yes, but not to tell her I'm in love with her. I went to ask her to have dinner with me."

"Well, that's a start. How did it go?"

"Badly. She didn't wanna know about dinner… or me, for that matter."

"Why on earth not?" He frowns, looking confused.

"Because she's mad at me. She's got it into her head that I invited her to the festival to make Meredith jealous."

"I hope you didn't."

"No, of course not." I shake my head at him as he sips his coffee. "Although I don't think it helps that I can't explain why I did invite her. Plus, I knew Meredith and her new boyfriend would be there, so Mallory thinks I did it on purpose. She thinks it was some kind of game. Only it wasn't. Inviting her was a spur-of-the-moment thing. It was an instinct. But like I said yesterday, I didn't think of it as a date."

"Didn't you?" he says, tilting his head and raising his eyebrows.

"Not that I was aware of."

"That's probably because you've never been in that situation before, have you? You've never asked a woman out in your life. Women either come up to you, or a friend introduces you, or somehow you end up having drinks with someone you've never met before, or you bump into someone and hit it off. However it's started, it's never been about you making the first move, has it?"

I remember my words to Mallory and shake my head. "I guess not."

"Until now," he says. "But, however you look at it, you asked her out."

"Okay, but why? I mean, why now?"

"Why not? Like you said to Laurel, Mallory is a beautiful woman."

"I know, but the point is, she's been sitting in my office, looking beautiful and sexy, and utterly fucking perfect for the last three months. Why have I waited until now to fall for her? It wasn't like I was serious about Meredith, was it? You know that." He nods, and I let out a sigh, twisting my cup. "As if falling in love wasn't confusing enough already, I've been going crazy trying to work out why it's taken me so long to realize she's the one. And I can't. At first, I—I thought I might have hung back because I'm… well, I'm me, and she's so much younger, and probably not gonna be into the same things." I'm not about to go into details, but he nods his head, although I don't give him a chance to reply, or to ask for explanations. "Then I wondered if she might have thought I was taking advantage of her, because I'm her boss. But that can't be right. She seemed to want to be with me…" I stop talking, suddenly recalling that Mallory said as much, almost in those exact words, when she was accusing me of playing games. "I don't see how you can take advantage of someone who actually wants to be with you. Do you?"

"No. But I think you need to stop analyzing it all so damn hard. It doesn't matter if she's been in your office for three months, or three years. Love doesn't work to a schedule, you know?"

"I'm not sure love works at all. It seems to be frying my brain."

He chuckles. "You'll get used to it."

"Will I? Do I even want to?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

"Because I don't feel like I know what to do, or how to act, or what to say… and because I'm not sure Mallory's even speaking to me. I tried talking it through with her yesterday afternoon. I explained, and I apologized, but she's so damn mad at me."

"That's not a new sensation for you. Women have been mad at you before."

"Yeah, but I've never cared before… and besides, I've always known they'd come back. I can't even be certain Mallory will be at work in the morning." Although the thought that she won't be fills me with fear.

"She'll be there," Brady says with reassuring certainty in his voice, although I still feel a shadow of doubt.

"If she is, it'll be because she's responsible, not because she feels anything for me."

He shakes his head. "Okay, if you wanna wallow in self pity, you go ahead. Or you could try something radical."

"Like what?"

"Talking to her."

"I told you, I already tried that."

"Then try again," he says. "I get that every woman you've ever been with has always come running back to you whenever you've had a fight, but maybe you're gonna have to accept that this time is different. Maybe you're gonna have to be the one to make the moves."

"How?"

"Do whatever it takes. Explain it to her again, tell her you're sorry, even if you've said it before… hell, beg for her forgiveness, if you have to."

"Beg? I've never even asked, let alone begged." He laughs and I let out a sigh. "Promise me it's worth it?"

"It's worth it," he says. "And I guarantee you won't regret it."

He checks his watch and I realize I've kept him talking for quite a while.

"You need to go."

"I do. Sorry."

"It's okay."

We both quickly gulp down the last of our coffee and head for the door.

Once we're outside, he turns to me and tilts his head. "Are you gonna be okay?"

"I think so. Although I'm not sure I'm gonna talk to Mallory this afternoon. I think I need to give her some time."

"And you need to work on your begging strategies?" he says, smiling.

"Something like that."

"Call me if you need to."

I nod my head, no further words needed. He knows I'm grateful without me having to say it, and he turns away, walking toward Cedar Street with a spring in his step.

It's strange, but I always thought I was happy with my life. I thought I had it made, and that Brady was the fool for wanting to live such a settled and domesticated existence. I used to tell myself I wouldn't give up my freedom for anyone or anything. Now, I'm not so sure. I'm starting to think that, if Mallory would give me a chance, I'd give up everything for her… and I wouldn't regret it for a moment.

I was true to my word.

I didn't go upstairs and speak to Mallory after I'd finished with Brady. Although I think it had more to do with giving her time than with working on begging strategies. Like I said to Brady, it's not something I've done before… and I wouldn't know where to start.

I hope I won't have to, but giving Mallory time to stop being so mad at me seemed like the best move.

Whatever my reasons, I spent my Sunday afternoon alone.

That's not something I'm used to, having been with Meredith for so long. Before her, there would have been someone else. Sally, I think. And before Sally… I can't remember who, but there would have been someone to fill my spare time, if I wanted them to.

Being by myself was strange, and not entirely welcome. Not because I missed Meredith. I missed Mallory, though. I missed her like hell. That's odd, considering we've never spent much time together, outside of work, but I went grocery shopping, and found myself looking for her, recalling that she'd said she went on Sundays. She wasn't there, but when I got back, unpacked my groceries, and finally got around to eating something, I wanted her to be sitting with me, enjoying the movie I was trying to watch, cradled in my arms.

None of these were things we'd ever done. They weren't things I'd done with anyone else, either. And yet I wanted them. I wanted her… so damn much.

I woke up late again this morning, having slept badly, and I've had to rush through the shower to get downstairs even vaguely on time.

I can hear Greta in the surgery, but I turn into the reception area, sighing out my relief when I see Mallory sitting at her desk. She looks busy, or maybe she's just pretending to be, so she doesn't have to talk to me. I can't be sure. I can't check, either, because my first patient is already here, sitting on one of the chairs opposite Mallory's desk, looking a little nervous.

"Mrs. Stone?" I say, and she nods her head. She's a familiar enough patient who hates coming here, even though she rarely needs anything more than a check-up. That's what she's here for today and I smile, trying to put her at ease. She stands, and I usher her into the surgery and then turn to Mallory, hoping she'll look up. Except she doesn't. She keeps her eyes firmly fixed on her computer screen, and I turn away, feeling forlorn, and wondering if begging will be enough.

I have a steady stream of patients all morning, but in between each one, I make a point of going out to the reception. That's not something I'd usually do. Most of the time, I'll send Greta to collect each new patient, or accompany the previous one, if necessary. Today, I'm doing all of that myself, and by mid-morning, it's become clear that getting anything other than a ‘yes' or ‘no' answer out of Mallory is going to be impossible. She refuses to look at me, even when she's giving her mono-syllabic replies, and the atmosphere in here is palpable.

I don't know what to do exactly, but I'll have to do something. We can't carry on like this. Even Greta's noticed… and not just because I'm behaving so differently. She went to the bathroom around an hour ago and came back, scowling at me.

"What's wrong?" I asked. We had a ten minute break between patients, and I was taking advantage of it, and had fixed myself a quick coffee.

"I warned you," she said, enigmatically.

"About what?"

"About hurting Mallory."

I stood up, putting down my cup and walked over to her. "What has she told you? What has she said?"

"Nothing very much. But I got the feeling something was wrong, so I asked her if she was okay, and she just said Saturday hadn't gone as well as she'd hoped."

That meant she'd had hopes. That was something, wasn't it?

Or was I clutching at straws?

"That was it?"

"She didn't seem to want to talk about it, and I didn't like to press her. I'm guessing you screwed up, though."

"I think so."

"You only think so?"

"No. What I mean is, it's a kind of misunderstanding. It's entirely my fault, but… but I'm trying to put it right."

"Then try harder."

Our next patient arrived before I got the chance to tell her I would, if I knew how, and we've been working non-stop since then, right up to lunchtime.

Greta practically runs out of the building, barely stopping to pull on her coat, and I can't say I blame her for that. The atmosphere in here is dreadful, but changing that is in my hands, and no-one else's.

I open the surgery door just in time to see Mallory walking to the front of the building. She's leaving, and if I'm going to make things better, I need to stop her.

"Mallory?" I call, and she stops, although she takes a moment to turn around, her shoulders dropping. She'd obviously hoped to escape without being noticed, and I'm surprised by how much that hurts… by how physical the pain is, but I won't be defeated, and I step outside. "Can you come in here for a minute?"

She hesitates, and I wonder if she's going to refuse, but she doesn't. She lets out a sigh that's loud enough for me to hear, and then walks over, ducking past me, into the surgery.

I close the door and turn around, leaning back against it, while she wanders over toward the storeroom. She couldn't get any further away if she tried, and she puts her purse on the countertop beside her, tilting her head at me. She doesn't say a word, though, and I realize I'm going to have to start this conversation. I invited her in here, after all.

"I hate this awful atmosphere, Mallory. I can't take much more of it."

"And that's my fault, is it?"

"No. I'm not blaming you for anything. I'm just saying I don't want it to be like this between us."

"What do you want, then?"

I'm so tempted to say ‘you', but I think we need to work up to that. "I want to ask if you can forget about what happened on Saturday." She opens her mouth, but I hold up my hand and she closes it again. "I get that it's a lot to ask, but do you think you could forget about all the things I got wrong, and try to remember what you said about wanting to be with me… because even if my brain doesn't seem to be functioning properly anymore, I remember you saying that, and I'd really like it to be true." She stares at me, her mouth open… but not like she wants to say something. This is more like she can't believe what she's hearing, and I'm not remotely surprised by that. I'm struggling to believe it myself. "I—I get that I didn't handle things very well," I say when she doesn't reply. "But please believe me, I never meant to hurt you. I hate the idea that I could have done, and I just wish you could put it behind you, and let me try to be better. Because I think I could be so much better. I think everything could be so much better… with you."

I never thought I'd say anything like that to anyone. But it feels right to say it to Mallory. Because it's the truth, and I stare at her, watching as her eyes widen, and she licks her lips, then tips her head, like she's confused. That's understandable. It's how I've been feeling for quite some time now.

"Why?" she says, speaking at last. "I don't understand why."

"Why?" I repeat. "Didn't I make myself clear enough?"

"Yes, you did, but I still don't understand, Cooper. You said you didn't know why you invited me to the festival. I don't expect you to invent a reason now. It wouldn't make sense if you did. But I need to know why you're saying this. I need to be sure you know, too."

I smile. At least she's not dismissing me. "Because you've done something to me."

She frowns. "I haven't touched you."

I push myself off of the door and walk over, standing in front of her, and looking down into her baby blue eyes. "Yes, you have. You've touched me in ways I don't think I'll ever be able to explain."

"You're not making any sense, Cooper."

I study her beautiful face, the puzzled expression in her eyes, the slight furrowing of her brow, the way she's gazing at me, and I suddenly don't care. That is, I care about her. Obviously. But I don't care that none of this adds up. I don't care about analyzing it, or working out the why, and how and when.

"I know," I say, moving just a little closer. "Nothing makes sense anymore. It's fabulous, isn't it?"

"I—I don't get it," she mumbles, although her eyes don't leave mine, and she does it again. Without moving a muscle, she pulls me in, making me smile. I don't need to understand it anymore. I just love the sensation of being drawn to her… of knowing this is where I belong.

"Neither do I."

"What are you saying?"

"I don't know," I say. "I don't have a clue what I'm saying. Except I think I might want to be with you just as much as you want to be with me… assuming you meant it when you said that?" Please tell me you did… tell me it was true .

She blinks, then licks her lips again, and I'm so tempted to lean in and kiss her. I don't, because I can't be sure how she'd react, and I don't want to spoil things. I just want her to give me another chance, and I wait for her reply, wishing and hoping she'll say ‘yes'. It takes me a while to realize she's still staring right at me, that her mouth is slightly open, she doesn't seem to be breathing, and she hasn't answered me. I'm not sure if that's good or bad, but I can't wait any longer.

"So? What do you say?" I ask.

She startles and sucks in a breath, blinking hard. "A—About what?"

I laugh. How can she have forgotten? Unless…

Can it be?

Can it be she's as flustered as I am?

"About everything I've just said."

"I'm sorry. Did you say something?"

I laugh even louder, hope rising inside me. "Yes. I said I think I might want to be with you as much as you want to be with me, and I was hoping you'd consider giving me another chance to prove it. W—We could start with dinner tonight, if you like?"

She looks up at me, studying my face, her eyes shifting from mine to my lips and back again as she lets out a gentle sigh, and to my great relief, she slowly nods her head.