Page 9 of Cooped Up for Christmas

Ye Gods, it was nice when we finished prepping the house early—thanks to Coop and his team. Four extra bodies really does make a difference. Because of them, we all got some sleep, though I spent what was left of the night in my cramped, but private, bedroom, tossing and turning. Thinking of him. Remembering each and every moment with him from way back when, and eventually dreaming about him. I woke up in a warm embrace and for a second, I thought he’d come to join me in my bed. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or irritated when I realized it was just a pillow hugging my back.

It hardly mattered though, did it? Even if Coop and I had been there, all tangled together in that warm and cozy nest, there wouldn’t have been time to do anything about it. Nothing satisfying anyway. The guests were to arrive at 10 am sharp.

Not sure why I sighed.

Surely it was not a lament. Not for him. Not for us.

I hadn’t been able to afford a cell phone when I was a kid, but I did have a tattered picture of the two of us in my wallet. For some reason, I pulled it out. Stared at it. Me and Coop, so young and carefree. It was faded and worn, but that girl smiling out at the world was a happy one. Happier than she’d ever been.

Happier than she’d been since.

Never mind all the success, the corporate climbing, the jet-set lifestyle, the Beemer.

Nothing, and no one, had made me as happy as he had.

And he looked scrumptious. Hat on backwards, brown, shirtless, and grinning at the camera as he wrapped his arm around that happy girl.

I remembered that moment. It was that ephemeral glimpse of perfection just before everything had gone to shit.

It had been almost the end of the season. We’d been planning to backpack together in Canada for a few weeks before school started again. But then, he’d gotten a call from an ex—someone named Barbie Malone—and he’d answered it.

I’d been young, dumb, insecure, then hurt and furious knowing that he would even talk to an ex-girlfriend. We’d fought and I’d told him to get lost.

And he did.

He just left.

And that had been the end of that.

A couple of years later, I heard through mutual friends that he’d done as he’d threatened, and joined the Navy so he could be a SEAL. No word if he’d married Barbie. No word at all.

Funny how some people just disappear, isn’t it? They aren’t even on the internet, damn it all anyway.

Ah, but now, he was here. In the flesh.

This Coop was a lot different than a faded, ten-year-old, two-dimensional photo of the man.

And a lot scarier.

Maybe he wasn’t even the guy I remembered so fondly…you know, from before he shattered my dreams.

Oh, Lord. I wasn’t ready for this.

Not even.

So when I caught him alone in the staff kitchen that morning—who am I kidding? I was waiting for him—I knew it was time for us to have a chat.

“Ah. There you are, Cooper,” I said crisply, ignoring the Rottweiler who trotted up to sniff my crotch.

“Cooper?” He wrinkled up his face. “You used to call me Rocky.”

“Yeah,” I said on a snort. “I used to be eighteen.”

He tipped his head and his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Has it really been that long?

My immediate, gut, visceral response was, I’m not old.

I knew he wasn’t saying that. He was not implying that I was absolutely out of time like a dried up avocado, but that’s where I went. I pulled back a little. Cleared my throat. “It was a long time ago. I’ve grown up.”