“What are they called, Evy?” Coop asked before answering his own question. “You know the ones you make each year on my birthday,” he said to Mum, who spotted the opportunity like a hawk and dove for it like Olympic gold was on the line.
“Ohhh, you mean Evangeline’s mint slice brownies. I wish I could take the credit for those but that’s her recipe. I’ve never even tried to replicate them.” She said, and I mouthed a string of profanities into the open air. There was a beat of silence before Coop mumbled a reply which I didn’t catch, intentionally banging the dishes loudly to avoid whatever came next. But I knew it was too late. The cat was out of the bag.
I was mid-stacking the dishwasher when I was hit with the scent of leather and spice. I knew when I turned around it would be to a face full of questions I didn’t know how to answer. So, like any intelligent woman, I ignored him and looked for anything within arms reach to throw in the dishwasher.
Plastic scissors - dishwasher safe, obviously.
Tupperware - not dishwasher safe? Are you kidding? You’ll be right.
Plastic bottles - why the heck not, shouldn’t be too harmful.
Anything to escape looking at him or having to admit that for the last fifteen years, I’d been the one baking for him, just so he would receive something on his special day.
“Do you always wash empty cream containers before you recycle them?” I could hear the humour in his tone and spun around slowly, already defeated and was met with him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and a smile sent from heaven plastered on his face.
Damn Brad Pitt looking thirst trap! He had the kind of grin which made your ovaries weep eggs in the hopes one might magically impregnate on sight - anything to have part of that inside you for as long as possible.
“Yes, all the time,” I lied and his eyes sparkled.
“Really?”
“What do you want, Cooper?” I asked, more embarrassed than irritated. He didn’t deserve my annoyance, he’d done nothing wrong other than discover how mildly obsessed I’d been with him, but I didn’t want to talk about it. Not now and definitely not here.
Surely Mum saw the look I gave her. The look which begged her to accept his claims and thank him for his praise. Instead, she’d not only seen it, but she’d done the complete opposite, as if she loved nothing more than ratting me out for my meek little crush.
“I came to see if you needed help washing the empty cans?” He held one of Toby’s beer cans aloft, and despite my best efforts, a laugh escaped.
“Fine, you big, annoying detective. I confess.” His grin widened which made my scowl reappear. Although I was finding it difficult to maintain even faux anger.
“What do you confess?” He asked, taking a step closer, whilst still maintaining a safe enough distance.
“It was me,” I admitted. “I remember how sad I felt when you told me you didn’t get to spend your birthday with your parents and I never wanted you to go a year without knowing someone was thinking of you.” I shrugged, throwing the tea towel onto the bench. “It’s not a big deal.” I preempted before he made this into something so much bigger than it really was.
He didn’t reply, staring at me as if he couldn’t quite decide what to make of it all.
“So you weren’t just trying to impress me like Seb said?” His familiar grin wrapped around me before he pulled me in for a full body hug and the warmth of his embrace moved through me from the top of my head down to the tips of my toes.
“Some years, that delivery was the only thing that made me smile all day. Thank you, Evy.” I wanted to remain in this moment for as long as I could, because I knew it was as deep as itwas genuine. I wanted to bask in the euphoria that I had been able to bring him such comfort despite being so far apart. But it felt too heavy and not quite the time, so instead I offered a mumbledyou’re welcome.
Neglecting to highlight that even after all that time apart, I still thought about him far too often for someone who wasn’t trying to impress him - even if we were living completely different lives.
CHAPTER 25
Eva
The rest of the week passed in a blur of work, baking, too many hours watching online craft hacks and far too few spent basking in the warmth and vitality of the landscape outside. Only, the most noticeable thing of my week wasn’t that, but the fact that Cooper lingered more. He didn’t sneak out at night and even joined me in the kitchen while I baked. Never interrupting - he knew I wouldn’t take my headphones off anyway - but just watching. A quiet observer, always ready to taste whatever I handed him and never failing to ask how many cups of love I put into each. It was a routine I was becoming accustomed to a little too easily. Our conversations were deeper, and his moods were less haphazard.
I’d fallen asleep not long after we left Mum’s house the other night, which wasn’t the worst thing as him realising I’d been baking his birthday treats every freaking year was more than a little embarrassing. Humiliating realisations aside though, living with him was easy and came with the added bonus of using his extraordinary kitchen whenever I wanted. The plate of whatever sweet I baked, always demolished within a day or two bringing me a sick amount of joy. Combined, the routine was something Icould see myself doing indefinitely - a thought I needed to squash immediately - because this arrangement had an expiration date.
For now, I was absolutely exhausted and heading home alone from work this afternoon wasn’t the worst thing - I’d already planned to wash my hair and curl up with a movie. But the moment Xavi found out I’d be on my own, my phone buzzed with his message inviting himself over. Any chance of solitude disappeared with his promises of a good laugh and a round ofCrattegories, and I quickly sent him the address before turning my thoughts to what I’d cook.
Cooper’s house wasn’t even close to being mine, so I’d sent him a quick message asking if it was okay to have someone over and when he’d replied simply with an,of course, I felt a deep sense of comfort. Comfort in knowing while he was dragging my thoughts through every shade of the emotional spectrum, whatever I asked was never too much. Xavier was equally elated at being able to peruse the place while Coop wasn’t here, although offensively disappointed at the same time.
“You could at least pretend you’re here to see me,” I grumbled as he swatted my arse and walked ahead as if he knew where he was going.
“Love you, but need to see the den of our favourite anti-hero,” he stated, peeping into each open door, making sounds which were less sightseeing and more dramatic performance art. I trailed behind, pointing over his shoulder in various directions, rattling off where things were before we finally made it back to the kitchen. I’d been on autopilot since I got home, and my wet hair was testament to how little time I’d actually had before he arrived. It wouldn’t have surprised me to hear he’d been camped out front waiting for an opportunity like this.
“Excuse the homeless look but you gave me approximately twenty-two seconds notice for your visit.” I scowled, gesturing to my struggling university-student attire. My contacts were hastily put in at the very last minute and I’d thrown on a pair of oldshorts and a crop jumper. Ignoring my self-deprecation, Xavi was openly admiring the kitchen and its surroundings.
