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Without any more hesitation, I gently push the door open and see Coop lying face down on the bed, his head buried under a dozen pillows.
“Cooper?” I say softly as I move toward him, feeling my lungs struggle to breathe.
He doesn’t respond, just remains absolutely quiet. Which is so not him. It’s eerie even.
Lowering myself to the edge of the bed, I reach out to touch him, but he scoots away from me, his head still buried under the pillows.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m an asshole,” I say, and he huffs.
“It’s fine. I’ll have the paperwork for our divorce drafted up tomorrow.”
The cement in my stomach rolls around, making me slightly sick. But then I wonder if I heard it right because his voice is muffled by the mountain of pillows. Maybe I was just imagining it.
“What?”
He rolls his head out from under the pillows, still facing away from me, but speaking much clearer.
“You heard me. You’re right. It’s better this way.”
“Coop,” I plead and reach out to touch his back, not wanting him to pull away from me, not after everything we built. Despite being angry, he arches into my touch, and I snake my hand up under his shirt, feeling his warm skin under my palm.
“And you know, maybe you should sleep in your room tonight,” he says glumly, and despite my chest nearly caving in, I just crawl up next to him and tuck my body against his.
He freezes for a second before I feel him scoot into me. My hand slides up his bare stomach and settles on his throat. My fingers cup his jaw, turning him toward me. And despite everything, he comes willingly, his eyes slightly red and wet.
I stare into those swimming depths and then lower my mouth to his.
He sighs into me as I kiss him soundly, his hand sliding into my hair and gripping the strands roughly. It sends a shock through me, straight to my heart and groin simultaneously.
It turns heated quickly, the two of us giving into the pleasure we know will come at the end. I roll my body on top of his and grind my hips against his as our lips meld, our tongues tangling.
“I’ll sign the postnup,” I tell him, looking into his eyes. “But I always pay off my debts. So there’s no way I’m divorcing you yet.”
He frowns up at me and murmurs, “Yet?”
“I think I have a very extensive list of things I need to pay you back for.”
He sighs as he leans up and kisses me roughly. “It could take years to pay off, you know?”
“Yes, I know. Decades even,” I tell him, and he beams up at me. I smile down at him and then take his mouth again.
And we don’t come up for air for ages, not until the sky lightens to gray outside and a storm rolls in.
And even then, I don’t want to fall asleep.
Not yet, my heart beats out. Not quite yet.
Coop is in a funk the rest of the week, his spirits slightly drawn. Even when we kiss he seems distant, tense.
I can’t stand it. Can’t cope with the distance between us.
So, it all finally comes to a head one night, my skin tight with nerves as I lay it all out.
“Cooper?”
“Hm?” he hums as he sits next to me on the couch, scrolling on his phone.
“What’s going on in your head? You’ve been distant the past few days.”
