by Melody Grace
“But he does!” Mackenzie protested. “I saw the way he looked at you, how happy he was. I’ve never seen him like that before.”
“No.” Poppy took a deep breath. “He’s right. Maybe we just weren’t meant to be.”
“You don’t believe that,” Mackenzie said stubbornly, and Poppy’s heart ached.
“No, I don’t. But what choice do I have?” she asked simply. “This isn’t one of my books. I can’t write a love story out of thin air. Real life doesn’t work that way. Sometimes things don’t make sense, but they happen anyway,” she said, feeling the resignation in her bones. “Not everyone gets a happy ending.”
Mackenzie’s lips set in a determined line. “You’re wrong. I can’t believe that.”
Poppy thought about how long she’d believed in true love. The hours, and chapters, and thousands of words she’d poured into that one, precious hope. She didn’t regret them, not for a minute—and she couldn’t regret the time she’d spent with Cooper, the glimpse of that magic she’d seen in his eyes. If she had a chance to do it all over again, she would, no matter how much it hurt now, in the end.
“Look at us, getting maudlin,” she said, forcing a smile. “That’s what you get for drinking a bottle of wine on an empty stomach. What do you say we go back to the cottage and make dinner? If anything can heal a broken heart, it’s your soup, Aunt June.”
June chuckled. “I’m one step ahead of you, hon. What do you think I was buying at the grocery store?”
“It’s a plan.” Poppy got to her feet. “Want to come by?” she asked Mackenzie. “It’s the least I can offer, after your hospitality.”
“Another time.” Mackenzie gave her a swift hug. “But there’s something I need to do.”
“Then let’s get those mugs wrapped up.”
They headed for the front of the store, where Poppy picked out enough ceramics to supply all her friends and family for birthdays and holidays for years to come. Mackenzie carefully wrapped them in tissue paper and packed them into boxes. “I can ship them direct to wherever you want,” she said.
“That’s perfect.”
“You won’t suddenly bolt out of town, will you?” Mackenzie stopped to check. “Disappear in the dark of night never to return?”
“I still have a few chapters of my book left to write,” Poppy reassured her. “And I promise I’ll come say goodbye.”
“Now you’re making me emotional.” Mackenzie sniffled.
“I’m going to New York, not Antarctica!” Poppy laughed. “I’ll still see June, and you’re welcome to come stay any time you want to visit.”
“I know, but it’s not the same.” Mackenzie gave her a wry smile. “I was about to launch my campaign to get you moving here full-time. Although I figured Cooper would take care of that.”
“Me too,” Poppy said sadly. “But here we are.”
Preparing to leave the place she’d just imagined setting down roots. At the end of a chapter, instead of a beginning. She couldn’t turn the clock back or rewrite the past, not when Cooper refused to even try. All she could do was keep believing that her happy ending was still out there, and not bound up in six-foot-two of blue-eyed, teasing-smiled heartbreak who wouldn’t even take her calls now, let alone look at her like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.
The only question she still had was, why?
23
Cooper didn’t hear the knocking at first; he was half a bottle of whiskey deep and it was only five p.m. It wasn’t until the loud banging broke through his numb haze that he realized someone was hammering on his front door.
“I’m not home!” he yelled, but the noise didn’t stop. Whoever was out there was either deaf, or stupid, or both.
Unless it was Poppy.
He was on his feet before he knew it, striding for the hallway. But he’d been horizontal on the living room floor all afternoon and his balance was screwed. He banged straight into the table and was cursing the pain shooting through his knee when he flung the door open.
“Oh.” His heart sank. “It’s you.”
Mackenzie glared at him with murder in his eyes. “What the hell are you playing at?”
Cooper closed the door in her face.
“Cooper Tiberius Nicholson!” her voice carried. “You open this door right now. I’ve just spent the afternoon with Poppy crying all over the damn place because of you. The least you can do is be a man and explain yourself.”
Shame crashed through him. Goddamn. He wasn’t drunk enough for this. Hell, he wasn’t even drunk anymore.
He cracked the door. “She was crying?” he asked, his head already pounding with guilt. Mackenzie sighed.
“She was trying to be brave about it, but yeah. You did a number on her, Coop, and I never figured you for a guy who just cuts and runs.”
He swallowed. “I’m doing her a favor,” he mumbled, but somehow, all his justifications didn’t sound so convincing out loud.
Mackenzie clearly agreed, because she pushed past him and marched inside. She took a look around at the debris—the takeout wrappers and empty beer cans and the old record player that was skipping so he had to take the whole damn thing apart—and sighed. “Come on, Coop. What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” he said stubbornly. “Except you’re interrupting my hangover.”
“The last time I saw you guys, everything was fine. Great, even,” she said. “I’ve never seen you happy like the kind of happy you were around Poppy. Then you just break up out of nowhere, no reason, no explanation? Cut the crap and tell me what happened. Did Poppy do something?” she demanded. “No, scratch that, the poor girl doesn’t have a clue why you suddenly walked out on her. Was it Laura?” She narrowed her eyes. “Is that what this is about? Are you still in love with her?”
Cooper flinched back from her barrage of questions. “Can’t you just leave a man in peace?”
“Nope.” Mackenzie sat herself down on the couch. “I’m not leaving until I get answers. I’ve got all night.”
Cooper sighed. She was the only person he knew as stubborn as he was, which meant she wasn’t going anytime soon.
So he did.
He grabbed his keys and jacket, and headed for the door. “Lock up on your way out,” he called behind him, and didn’t stick around to hear her complaints. He got in his truck and gunned the engine.
Couldn’t a man get a little peace in this town?
Not that he deserved it. She was right, Poppy didn’t deserve this, and the longer he thought about the way she’d looked when he broke the news—how her face had cracked wide open and those heartfelt eyes of hers filled with tears—the more he hated himself.
Goddammit, Cooper. What the hell have you done?
He drove carefully along the highway. The sun was sinking low in the sky, and his buzz had long since worn off, leaving nothing but self-loathing and bitter regret.
It had all seemed so simple. He wasn’t made for happy endings, he’d known it all along. Better to save them both from the slow-motion car wreck of a relationship, and let Poppy move on and meet a man who wouldn’t let her down. But looking her in the eye and telling her it was over . . . it still sliced him clean through the chest. He’d wanted to spare her from the pain of disappointing her, but instead, he’d put a betrayal in her expression he would never forget.
He took the turn through town, down towards the beach. He’d stayed away from the construction project all week. He’d told himself his guys could handle it, but the truth was, he didn’t trust himself to be a few dozen feet away from Poppy without throwing all his good reasons aside and marching over there to try and win her back.
Especially when he wondered if his reasons weren’t so good, after all.
But June’s cottage was dark when he pulled up, and nobody was home. Which was a good thing, he reminded himself, as he went to check the progress on the house next door. It was coming together now: the roof on, the walls up and sturdy, and those problems with the foundatio
n all sorted. Walking around inside, he could finally picture the home it would become—more than just renderings on a page. A little drywall, a few salvaged beams, the new flooring . . .
Some lucky family was going to be happy there.
He felt an ache just imagining it. Damn. He was getting sentimental in his old age. It was just bricks and mortar, he told himself, as he locked up behind him. The next place he built better be a bachelor pad, save him from all this “what if?” whirling in his brain. Chrome and glass, made for one—and the occasional overnight guest.
But the thought of replacing Poppy with his usual parade of summer flings took the wind out of his lungs all over again.
There was no replacing a woman like her.
The sun was almost setting by the time he was done at the house, and Cooper half-expected Mackenzie to still be sitting right there on his couch if he went home, so he drove on into Sweetbriar instead. It was a quiet night at the pub, and Grayson was the only other person at the bar. He gave Cooper a nod. “Riley’s out back somewhere with that waitress. I suggest you pour yourself if you want a drink this side of midnight.”
Cooper rounded the bar and selected a pale ale. It came out half foam, but what the hell. Another beer—or five—and that pickaxe in his chest might stop hurting so damn much. He took a gulp. “View’s different, this side,” he remarked, looking out.
Grayson studied him, his expression inscrutable. He wasn’t a man of many words, but clearly had something he wanted to say. Cooper ignored him. He wasn’t about to break the habit of a lifetime and spill his feelings all over the place like some sloppy drunk at last call.
“She’s leaving, you know.”
Cooper’s head snapped up.
“Franny heard it from June, today at the store,” Grayson continued. He took another sip like he hadn’t just set a bombshell right down on the bar. “She has a couple of chapters left to write, but once she’s done with that book of hers, she’s heading straight back to New York. For good.”
The axe twisted. Cooper tried not to care.
“Good for her,” he muttered. “She’ll be happy to get back to city life, I’d imagine. Too long in the slow lane with us.”
“Uh huh.”
“I mean, that was always the plan, right?” Cooper continued, clinging to his last excuse. “This was a vacation for her. Vacations end. Sweetbriar’s fine for a couple of months, but what was she going to do: uproot her life move here full-time?”
“You did,” Grayson countered evenly. “So did I.”
“Yeah, well you have issues we’re not getting into,” Cooper said darkly. “Like why a man travels halfway across the world to sit in an old bookstore all day, gathering dust.”
“I agree.” Grayson didn’t rise to the bait. “We’re not getting into that.”
He stayed at the bar, watching Cooper with a knowing stare, and Cooper shifted, uncomfortable. “I know what you’re thinking,” he snapped.
“You do?” Grayson raised an eyebrow.
“Hell, it’s what you’re all thinking. Mackenzie, June—the whole damn town.” Cooper scowled. “You think I’m a fool to mess things up, and a coward for leaving, and a bastard for breaking her heart. Well, you can save the lectures,” he added bitterly, “because believe me, I’ve heard them all. They’ve been playing non-stop in my own damn brain ever since I walked away.”
There was silence. When he looked up again, Grayson was still sitting there, still watching him, still smiling that inscrutable smile that somehow was the last thing Cooper needed to see. “What?” he demanded, his voice rising. “Have you got something you want to say to me?”
“Nope,” Grayson replied. “Just, I’m sorry you’re hurting. I know love isn’t easy to find,” he added, his voice gruff.
Cooper deflated. “It wasn’t love,” he mumbled, taking a gulp of beer. “It was just . . . not meant to be.”
Grayson finished his drink, then got down from his stool and strolled out, leaving Cooper alone with the lie still fresh in his mouth. It didn’t matter if he loved her. He’d already learned that love wasn’t enough. His love, at least. You could love someone as best you could, and still fall short of forever.
You really think this is your best?
Cooper pushed aside the doubts and took another drink. It was done, either way, and soon Poppy would be three hundred miles away, and it would be like she’d never existed at all.
Except for that damn pickaxe still lodged in his heart.
24
Poppy always felt like she deserved a fanfare when she finished the first draft of a book. Confetti raining from the sky, a chorus girl jumping out of a cake. Why not throw in a parade with some baton-twirling and a full brass band? She deserved it.
But this time, typing those final words was a bittersweet moment. Her series was over, her characters finally reunited. It was the end of a wonderful moment in her life—and the beginning of something new for her.
She read over the last chapter, and then backed it up—twice over, just to be safe. Then she closed her laptop screen and took a deep breath of salty sea air. It was a bright, clear morning, and she was tucked away in her writing cabin again on the beach. Except it wasn’t hers, she reminded herself. It belonged to Cooper. He’d only loaned it to her temporarily.
Like him.
She tried not to feel the same swell of sadness all over again, but it rose as steady as the tide in her chest. In time, it would be better, she told herself. In time, he would be just another detour on her path to real love.
So why did she still feel like that road stopped, right here?
Her cellphone rang, in a welcome distraction. “Hey Summer.” Poppy smiled, answering the call. “Great timing. I just finished my draft.”
“Congratulations!” Summer exclaimed. “We’ll have to celebrate when you’re back. There’s a new restaurant that just opened down the block from me. The chef is an asshole, but he makes gnocchi like a dream.”
Poppy laughed. “Does this mean you’ve already hooked up with him?”
Summer snorted. “When would I have the time? Andre’s started loaning me out to bake wedding cakes for his most exclusive clientele. Between him and my mother trying to get me on her TV show, I don’t have a moment to hook up with anyone—let alone another asshole chef.”
“You do have a track record,” Poppy agreed.
“What can I say? I fall in love mouth-first.”
Poppy giggled.
“You know what I mean,” Summer groaned. “Anyway, what about you, how are you holding up? Have you seen him yet?”
“No, and I’m not going to,” Poppy said firmly. “I don’t know how it’s possible to avoid someone in a small town like this, but he’s doing a pretty good job of it.”
“I’m sorry, babe. Just look on the bright side: come tomorrow, you’ll be gone.”
“I know,” Poppy sighed. Why was it the thought of leaving still made her ache? “June and Mackenzie insisted on having a leaving celebration tonight in town. I should be happy to be putting real distance between us, but I’m going to miss this place,” she admitted, looking out at the bay. The waves were cresting, foam-tipped and wild from the winds, and the incredible peace she’d felt the first day arriving here was still calm around her, despite the heartache.
“I’m going to miss it too, and I haven’t even been!” Summer exclaimed. “I was looking forward to all those hot bearded guys you were telling me about.”
“Help yourself,” Poppy said ruefully. “There’s one more on the market now.”
“That’s decided it,” Summer said, sounding determined. “As soon as you’re back, we’re going out. You, me, a bottle of tequila, painting the town red. What do you say?”
“I say I’m about five years too old for that.”
Summer laughed. “OK, then you, me, a bottle of red wine, and a night in front of Netflix watching British costume dramas.”
Poppy smiled. “Now that sounds like my kind of
plan.”
She finished up at the cabin, feeling a pang as she packed away her few items and closed up the painted wooden doors for the final time. She took the winding path back up to the cottage, her heart beating faster when she saw the construction crew was working on the house next door. She couldn’t stop herself searching the group for Cooper’s tall, broad-shouldered frame.
No sign of him.
She exhaled, crossing past the yard to June’s, but just as she reached the gravel driveway, a truck came around the bend, slowing as it approached.
Cooper’s truck.
Poppy froze. She could see him through the windshield glass, wearing a ballcap and a messy three-day beard, and just like that, all her pep talks about how he didn’t matter melted clean away.
God, she wanted him.
Hope, and trepidation, and plain desire pounded through her, and as he pulled in to park, Cooper looked over and met her eyes. For a moment they were both caught there, staring, only a few feet apart, but just as Poppy raised her hand in a nervous wave, Cooper’s expression changed. He threw the truck into reverse and backed out of the driveway, pulling a wide U-turn before speeding back up the road leaving nothing but gravel flying in his wake.
Poppy swallowed back the sting of disappointment. She’d been wondering if he regretted it, but there was her answer, loud and clear.
Whatever they shared was history. It was time to move on.
Cooper watched Poppy getting smaller in the rearview mirror, until she was around the bend and out of sight.
He gripped the steering wheel hard, trying to focus on the road—and not the woman he just drove away from when every instinct in his body was screaming out to stay. He’d told himself he would be fine heading back to work. He’d stayed away too long already, and he had a job to do—no matter who was living right next door. But just the sight of her standing there, wrapped up in that red sweater with her hair dancing wildly around in the breeze, made it all come rushing back. And the expression in her eyes, so unsure and full of pain, sliced him so deep he was surprised he wasn’t bleeding yet.
