Judson Clarke has broken character and is also laughing until he has to wipe his eyes.
And Waverly—my beautiful pop princess who deserves way more than even a guy as successful as I am can give her—flashes me a smile that tells me this is my moment to shine.
This is my moment to prove that I, Cooper Rock, the man who went and got her security team whenshewas sick, can handle what the human body sometimes dishes out.
29
Waverly
He’s leaving.
I need to leave too—I’m due in Toronto for another video shoot and then it’s on to Boston and New York for back-to-back shows this weekend.
But all I want is for Cooper to get on my plane with me, for us to fly to Shipwreck and then ignore all of our commitments until we’re either hungry or interested in seeing other people again, and when we see those other people, I want them to be Sarah and Beck, and Grady and Annika, and Libby and Clay—yes, Cooper’s dad’s name is actuallyClay Rock—and Pop and Nana and Tillie Jean and Max.
“What about that first week in August?” Cooper asks me. “We have a three-game series in Seattle and you’ll be in Vancouver.”
“Music festival. Non-stop press when I’m not doing meet-and-greets or performing. What about your series in Minnesota here? I have a drop-in at a fair in Wisconsin, but I could move it earlier in the day so I can spend the night in Minneapolis.”
“Could probably work. Oh, hey, you have four days off right before Labor Day. What’s that?”
I sigh.
And then I sigh harder.
Cooper’s brows lift.
We’re hanging out in my bed, unfortunately fully-clothed since Kiva and Scott One will be shoving us into my car for a ride to the airport sometime in the next thirty seconds, andI don’t want to go.
Is this what it’s like to have never rebelled against anything in your life and get all the way to your late twenties before letting loose all of the temper tantrums you’ve held inside for years, or do I need to get a grip?
November isn’tthatfar away.
Sob.
“It’s the annual Waverly Sweet Empire Retreat.” I drag the words out like I’m sayingI’ll be walking on hot coals and sleeping on a bed of high-heeled shoes, which isn’t fair at all to my employees. I love them, and I love doing the retreat every year.
I’ll be excited about this tomorrow. I will.
I’m justtired.
And sad that Cooper has to leave.
He raises his hand.
I sigh once more, because clearly I haven’t been melodramatic enough. Hashtag agrees. He lets out a long sigh from his perch in the window, and then follows it with a mournful yowl.
“Yes, I’m the boss,” I say without calling on Cooper to let him ask his question. “Yes, I can cancel. Yes, I can skip. But this is literally the only time all year that I take the time to say thank you and sponsor a break for all of the people who work so hard, and—”
And it’s hard to keep talking when he’s kissing me this thoroughly.
I loop my arm around his neck.
He pulls me tighter against him.
One of us deepens the kiss.
Maybe both of us. We seem to share a wavelength when it comes to being physical and intimate.
