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It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell Russell that Coop and I are just friends as well, probably even less than that. Roommates, platonic husbands. But the words don’t come, so I let them lie, buried deep inside my throat.
“How was meeting Mitch?” Coop asks, and I roll my lips between my teeth and shrug. I don’t feel like discussing my brother with this stranger nearby, and Coop must sense it because he lets it go.
“Ah, well, I was out shopping,” he says, holding a bag up. “Got you some new undies and socks. Yours are atrocious.”
“Did you get me new undershirts too?” I ask, noting that he’s wearing one of mine once again.
He grins at me and shakes his head. “No, I need to know where you buy these though.”
“That’s a secret, only for poor people.”
Coop laughs loudly and then places his arm through mine. “See, Russell, you never stood a chance.”
Russell beams good-naturedly and then leans down, brushing a soft kiss to Coop’s cheek. “You know where I am, if things ever go south.”
I bite back unbidden words, a denial of sorts, like nothing will ever go south with the two of us. But I know that’s not true. Once this agreement is up and the divorce is on its way, the two of us will part. This will all just be a silly blip in the timeline of our lives.
“Good to run into you. I’ll message you. We can grab coffee.”
Russell nods and then tilts his chin at me before walking away, and Coop watches him, his eyes on Russell’s ass.
“There’s nothing stopping you from banging him,” I say, causing his gaze to snap to mine.
“Oh, Matthew. I would never. I’m as faithful as they come. And I expect you to be as well.”
I roll my eyes and scoff. “That’s not too hard. I don’t have anyone anyways.”
“So, it’s just me then? What a lucky man.”
I let out a small laugh and then peer over at him. His golden eyes meet mine and positively sparkle.
“So, what did you do on the beach? Pick up shells? Talk to the birds?”
“I have a pocket full of them, actually.”
“Birds?”
“Seashells,” I say, and he stops walking and holds his hand out.
“Oh, show me. I love a good seashell.”
My heart races as I stare at him, waiting for him to mock me, but when I pull the handful out, he just oohs and ahhs over them, his eyes bright and alive.
“These are fantastic. Oh, and look at this sand dollar. Next time, bring me with you. I have a jar for sea glass. I’ve collected it since I was a kid. I have extra jars that you can put these in, if you’d like. So you can look at them whenever you want.”
The thought of it makes my eyes sting and my nose sniffle.
What the fuck is he talking about? I don’t need to stare at my treasures. I usually tuck them away where no one, not even me can see them.
“Come on. I’ll show you.” He pulls me eagerly back to his loft where he shuffles around in a cabinet and pulls out three mason jars. “Oh, you know what we can do? Let’s organize them. One for sea glass, one for sand dollars and shells, and one for rocks.”
I empty my pockets and we spend the next half hour sorting them, and then he brings them to my room and sets them on my dresser.
“I think you need more,” he says, assessing each one. “We’ll go out in the evenings after you get home from work and look for more.”
I nod, unable to say a word because I feel slightly choked up. What the hell is happening to me? Is this really my life? This can’t be fucking real.
If Coop notices my wet eyes, he doesn’t say anything. Just leaves my room and returns with the bag he had in his hand earlier.
