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10. Chapter Ten

Brenna's hand rests on my chest, right in the middle, and she closes her eyes and cuddles up in her spot in my arms. She sighs and slides her hand up to my jawline, then stretches up to kiss my neck.

"Mmm, good morning," she says, and she kisses me again, this time sucking gently at that same spot as she wiggles her body slightly closer. I feel her smile against my skin, and her hips press into me.

"Ah, good morning," I reply, and I surprise myself—and probably her—by shifting my hand to her hip and applying just enough pressure to put a little distance between us.

I can't do it this morning. I just can't pretend today. Usually, I'd act interested. Kiss her back. Slip my hand up under her shirt and touch her where I know she likes to be touched. Back off after another moment with the excuse that we shouldn't do any more since we'd agreed to wait until after the wedding to be more intimate. All while somehow managing to keep her from noticing my obvious, uh, lack of interest.

But today, it feels even more wrong than normal. Maybe because I've finally realized just how much of an asshole I'm being, lying to her. I mean, I've known this for a while. But maybe my conscience is finally done with all the pretending and lying and all that after seeing Coop again yesterday morning. All those feelings I've been burying for so long.

God, I'm just not sure.

In any case, she stops kissing my neck and pulls back to look at me, her eyes unsure and questioning.

"Did I . . . did I do something wrong?"

God, no. Shit. What the hell is wrong with me?

With a shaky breath, I shift my hand up to touch her cheek. "No, of course not, babe. I'm just..." Such an ass? Tired of lying to you? An idiot for letting things go this far?

Come on, say the words, dammit. Tell her the truth.

I want to. God, how I want to. But I can't.

I close my eyes, and she pushes away from me just a little as her hand slips off my chest. And even though she's no longer touching me at all, I can somehow still feel her tension.

This really isn't fair to her at all. Dammit.

"Sometimes, I think..." She trails off, and when I open my eyes again to look at her, she's watching me with an expression full of uncertainty and worry. But she quickly blinks the look away and shakes her head. "Never mind. Um, we should get up, yeah? M-Mom was wanting us to pick out the cake design and flavors today. She's so happy she gets to make it for us, and..."

I scoot over on the bed until I'm close enough, and then I gather her up in my arms and kiss her as softly and lovingly as I can. When we pull apart, she's breathing harder, and her hands have settled on my chest again. I kiss her forehead and then rub her back gently with one hand.

God, the lies hurt. But I can't help wondering if the truth would be any better at this point.

I prop myself up on one elbow and then bury my head in her shoulder. "I'm sorry, babe. It's just... I've got—"

"It's fine. We should get up and get going anyway. Don't want to be late."

"It's not fine, Bren. I need to . . . I need to . . ."

The words are right on the tip of my tongue. The truth about everything. And I haven't even been able to consider saying them until now, until this whole weird trip and seeing Coop again and having all those feelings come back, swirling around and making me all sorts of dizzy and excited and... and completely, utterly, absolutely terrified.

"That's fuckin' right. Or I'd have to beat that shit right outta you."

A shiver of fear shuts down my thoughts as I see the anger and revulsion in my dad's eyes. I remember it too clearly. It was maybe the most scared of him I'd ever been.

And it reminds me of why I can't tell her—why I can't tell anyone.

If I don't at least tell her something pretty soon, though, she's going to find out in the most embarrassing way possible on our wedding night, which—

Oh, shit. Our wedding night. It's coming up in only a few weeks. Somehow, I've been avoiding thinking about it, about how she'll be expecting something I'm not sure I'll be able to give her.

God, it's really not fair to her. All of this.

My stomach churns as I force myself to start talking. "Bren, I, uh—"

"I really don't want to be late, Josh. Let's get going, okay?" she cuts in, and then she pushes away and stands up, and before I can even answer or argue or at least pretend I was going to try to tell her some sort of truth, she disappears into the bathroom, her shoulders still tense.

Shit.

***

Brenna's never really been mad at me before. And I'm not even sure whether she's actually mad. It might be more sad or disappointed or uncertain. I deserve it, of course. I deserve much worse than that. Especially now that I know she knows I'm lying to her.

She's quiet on the drive to her parents' house, and when we get there, she only partly perks up as her mom sits us both down at their dining room table and starts showing us all manner of possible cake designs. Thankfully, her mom seems like she's probably too excited to notice. The whole process—both picking out the design and selecting the flavors—takes only a couple of hours, and honestly, I'm just nodding and agreeing to whatever Brenna chooses. We're on the same page with everything anyway. Well, mostly.

And when that's finished, Brenna and I head back into town for lunch because her mom has to sub in for another teacher that afternoon at the school. I'm not sure Brenna's said a word to me since we left the motel that morning, and that doesn't change as we drive back. She's the one driving again, and I think she's going maybe even a little faster than normal.

I feel sick.

"What do you want to do for lunch, babe?"

She doesn't answer right away, which doesn't help my stomach. And by the time she pulls into the motel parking lot a minute later, my heart's racing with uncertainty. She parks in the spot right in front of our room and then just closes her eyes and sits there, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"Bren? I-I'm sorry. Really, I—"

"I know, Josh. I know. I'm just..." She can't seem to finish her sentence, but she lets out a long breath, and for the first time today, I see the tension in her shoulders ease a bit.

God, she really, really doesn't deserve any of this.

Carefully, I reach over and take her hand from the steering wheel, and then I lift it to my lips and press a gentle kiss to her knuckles.

"Do you want me to go grab us some lunch, and we can just... hang out and watch stupid movies all afternoon? Like we used to?"

That gets me a little laugh, and she smiles as she glances over at me. Her eyes are glistening, probably with tears, but her smile seems genuine. I smile back and squeeze her hand.

"I'd love that. It sounds perfect." She sniffles a little and then reaches up and wipes her cheek, where a single tear fell.

I frown, but she shakes her head and then leans over toward me in invitation. I meet her partway. The kiss is short and sweet, and when she pulls away, she smiles again. It's a small smile, and there's something in it I can't quite interpret. But she doesn't give me long to figure it out either.

"I really wanted to try the BLT at Mel's Diner. My mom said it's the best. Oh, and the peach cobbler. And that gas station we stopped at Saturday night—they also had microwavable popcorn. That's a couple of stops, but...?"

There's my Brenna.

"Anything you want, babe."

She tosses me her key fob. "Iced tea, too. Un—"

"Unsweetened," I finish for her. "Yup. Got it." And when she smiles at me this time, it's closer to her normal smile.

"See you in a bit then?"

I nod. "Yeah. Shouldn't be too long."

We both climb out of the car, and I shut the door and jog around to the driver's side. She's waiting there for me, and when I reach her and pull her into a hug—our first since we woke up that morning—she doesn't resist at all. But I feel her trembling, and it makes my stomach clench again. I press a light kiss to her cheek and rub my hand up and down her back.

"Love you, babe. I'll be right back."

She straightens up and gives me a small smile, but doesn't say anything. Then, she steps away, waves, and heads toward the door to our motel room.

I can't move for a moment. My brain is screaming something at me, reminding me of all the stupid mistakes I've made. Again. And telling me how I can't keep things from her much longer. How it's not right. How I absolutely cannot marry her—because it wouldn't be fair to her and because she definitely deserves someone who can give her everything, give her all of them. And that's... not me.

And my brain's also having the best time reminding me of how all the apologies in the world are not going to change things. Brenna's never going to trust me again. And Coop... I'll be lucky if I can patch things up enough so that I at least know he doesn't hate me.

My feet finally move, and I climb back into the car, start it up, and pull out of the parking lot. It's not a long drive—I stop at the gas station first and buy a couple of bags of microwavable popcorn, then I head the rest of the way to the diner.

There's only one other vehicle parked out front, and I'm secretly much too happy about that because maybe that means it's not busy and hopefully that means I can—

God, I'm such an ass. Why am I thinking about how much I really want to see Coop again when I should be thinking about my fiancée?

A strong breeze picks up as I push open the car door and get out, and I pull my coat tighter around me and try to clear my thoughts. Or at least make myself remember why I'm here—for Brenna. And I'll just happen to hopefully get to see Coop. I mean, maybe. Maybe he's not even working right now.

My stomach sinks at the thought.

God, I really, really am such an ass.

I jog to the entrance and let myself in, and as soon as I open the door, I hear his voice, deep and full of laughter.

"Ha, no, Ang, really!"

He laughs again, and the sound sends this tingling through me—and it's part warmth and part something else.

God.

Brenna. I'm here for Brenna.

"She wouldn't come in, just kept running circles around the tree until she was too tired, and—"

His voice cuts off just as I turn around, and I see him standing next to one of the booths, where a middle-aged, petite woman with long dark-blonde hair pulled back into a high ponytail sits. The woman follows his gaze to me, and her eyes seem to dart back and forth between Coop and me for a moment before she grins and then scoots back into the booth more.

Coop's just staring still, one hand shoved into his pocket and the other resting on the back of the booth. And I'm not much better I suppose, since I can't seem to move again. Damn sticky feet.

"Uh, h-hey. Do you guys, uh... That is, can I get an order to go?" There. At least my words work. Right? God, he's still just staring at me, and his eyes are deep and dark, and there's that sexy baseball cap...

He blinks and straightens up. "Yeah, yeah, sure. What do you want? Sorry, gimme a few minutes, Ang?"

The woman nods, and I'm pretty sure she's trying not to giggle now, but I'm gonna choose to not pay attention to that. I'm just here to order some lunch. For Brenna.

I shove my hands into my pockets and follow him as he motions to the counter. God, his muscles. And his aftershave. Damn, he smells good.

He glances over his shoulder at me with this smile that just really doesn't help me get a hold of myself. And my heart does something funny in my chest.

"So, just can't get enough of Mel's Diner, eh?"

He grins, and oh god, I can just barely stop myself from blurting out "I can't get enough of you." Shit. What's wrong with me? I clear my throat.

"Heh, well, uh, Brenna heard the BLT here can't be beat, and she needed to try one," I say.

"Ah, yeah, Mel's BLT is really good." Coop stops at the counter and then grins again as he half sits on it and pulls a notepad out of his pocket. He scribbles something down and then looks back up at me, expectantly.

Food. Right. Um.

"Um, and then I guess I'll just have, uh..."

I have no idea. Absolutely none. And his eyes are distracting me. And my heart's racing. I look down and rub the back of my neck.

"The French dip is really good. We get the baguettes fresh every morning from the bakery down the street," he says, and when I risk glancing up again, he's still watching me, but his expression is softer.

"Perfect. That sounds great. Uh, thanks."

He nods. "Yeah, no problem. Anything else? Pie or something?"

"Um, yeah. An iced tea, unsweetened, and uh," I stammer, and my brain freezes up again as my eyes flit to his lips. "Chocolate...? Do you have anything chocolate? No, no, wait. Um, Brenna wanted the peach cobbler. If you've got it, that is."

And something weird happens then. I'm not sure exactly what. I just feel it as he blinks and then bites his lower lip, and this shiver runs through me. He's looking at me with this intensity that I can just feel in my chest. It's brief but powerful.

Then he nods and looks down with a rough cough as though to clear his throat. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, we've got the peach cobbler. I, uh, hear it's really good. I can throw in something chocolate too. Mel made a chocolate cream pie this morning. It's my favorite. No charge."

"Ah, cool, thanks, man."

His smile is tight now, but he nods again, rips the page out of his notepad, and then hooks a thumb toward the doors leading into the kitchen. "Be right back. It should only be a few minutes."

Then he takes off, and I'm left there staring after him.

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