by Sophie Stern
When I opened the door, she was standing there, rubbing her shoulders like she was cold.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered.
“I needed to see you.”
“How did you find my house?” I asked.
“I used to live in this house,” she whispered, looking up at me.
Her eyes were so bright, so bold. They were gorgeous, and I could tell that whatever had happened after our date was something horrible. Her eyes, while lovely and brave, were also hurting. She looked like she’d been crying. What was wrong? Had Jake tried to call her?
“I am aware of that,” I said. “Come inside.”
I stepped over and let her in. It was true that I’d bought her childhood home. After her mom passed away, the house was sold a few times, but I finally managed to get my hands on it, and I’d bought it. I had always liked it, even as a kid, and now it was mine. I wasn’t sure if that was weird or creepy or just kind of cool, but no matter what, she was here. I wasn’t going to apologize for buying the house. On second thought, it might have been a little creepy. It was a gorgeous home, though, and Ashton didn’t have a ton of choices when it came to suburbia.
She came into the house and I closed the door, locking it. She looked over her shoulder at me and raised an eyebrow.
“To keep the feral cats and mountain lions out,” I said playfully. “Not to keep you in.”
“Just as long as we both know that,” she said. She went to the living room and sat down on the couch. She barely noticed the décor or the design. She didn’t take in the artwork that I’d carefully collected, and she didn’t look at the bright colors on the walls. Something heavy must be on her mind. I needed to get her talking. Once she told me what was wrong, we could figure out a solution to the problem. I’d help her.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her again, gently. Her hands were on her knees, gripping them. Her knuckles were white.
“It’s Hannah,” she said.
My heart jumped into my throat, and then it sank, burying itself deep in my soul. What did that mean? What was wrong? Only, I knew even before I asked that she was gone. Hannah was gone. Why else would Cordelia have come all the way over to my house?
Why else would she have tracked me down?
I had known right away that there was some sort of problem, but somehow, even in my wildest dreams, I hadn’t imagined that it would be Hannah dying. It was too soon, wasn’t it? She wasn’t supposed to die for a long time. Hannah was supposed to beat cancer, and then she was supposed to recover and go on to live a long, happy life. That was the way things were supposed to go.
“Tell me.”
Cordelia looked at me, eyes wide, and she bit her bottom lip. Finally, she spat out the words I’d been dreading.
“She’s gone.”
Gone.
The word was spoken with such finality that I didn’t need to clarify. I didn’t to ask, “Where has she gone to?” I knew perfectly well where she’d gone, and I hated that she had passed without much adieu. A lot of people knew Hannah was sick, but I don’t think any of us knew just how sick she really had been.
“While we were out?”
“Yeah.”
Shit.
My mouth went dry and my entire body suddenly felt cold. No wonder Cordelia was upset. She probably thought it was her fault. She probably thought all of it was her fault. How could she not? That’s what I would have thought if it was me. If it had been me, I would have blamed myself for going out and living life. Judging by the look on her face, that’s what she was right in the middle of doing. She was trying to take the blame.
There was no one to blame but cancer.
I reached for her and tugged her up off the couch and into my arms. I held her without saying a damn word, and she burst into tears. I rubbed her back while she sobbed against me, and my heart shattered as I listened to her breaking. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. The reality was that life was cruel, and this was just an example of it being even more terrible. She didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve any of it. She deserved to be happy and loved and cared for.
“I should have been there,” she whimpered, and my heart shattered into a million pieces as I kissed her hair.
“You couldn’t have known,” I whispered.
“It’s my fault,” she said.
“It’s not your fault.”
“I miss her.”
“I know.”
I held her as she sobbed, and she pulled me even tighter to herself. Cordelia held me as though her life depended on it, and I was both honored and horrified to be in this situation. This wasn’t exactly the way I’d pictured getting her to my house for the first time. I had pictures candles and romance and maybe a little bit of dancing and kissing.
When her sobs finally subsided, I pulled back and looked at her. I reached for her cheek and cupped her face.
“I’m sorry you have to see me like this,” she said.
“Why?”
“You probably think I’m disgusting,” she shook her head. “I’m all covered in snot and sadness.” She tried to move away, but slid my hand to the nape of her neck and held her there. She looked up at me, lips slightly parted.
“Cordelia, you are perfect.”
“What?”
“You are perfect. You are not disgusting. You are...everything.”
And then I kissed her.
She kissed me back, eagerly. Her face was wet with tears and soon my face was wet, too, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything at all except holding her and touching her and helping her forget, even if it was just for a little while. The very worst feeling in the world was feeling alone, and that wasn’t something I wanted Cordelia to have to feel.
So I held her.
I touched her.
And I kissed her over and over again so that she could just...
Forget.
I wasn’t sure if she was going to want to do anything besides kiss. It seemed strange to connect like this after such a great loss, but sometimes the best way to move forward was to start celebrating. Sometimes moving forward meant focusing on something else, even if it was only for a little while.
Hannah wouldn’t have wanted Cordelia to hold back. She wouldn’t have wanted her to place her life on hold. That was why she’d given her the bakery, after all. She’d wanted to know that it was in good hands, but I knew it was more than just that.
I knew because Hannah had told me.
She’d been worried about Cordelia, she’d said. She had worried and fretted and after Cordelia broke up with Jake, Hannah worried she’d never feel whole again. The bakery had been a love offering to her sister’s only child. It had been a way she could make sure that Cordelia started smiling again. She wanted to see Cordelia bake, to dance, and to sing. More than anything else, Hannah had wanted to see Cordelia start to feel good and excited about life.
And she had.
Now Cordelia was in my arms, and I couldn’t quite believe how lucky I really was. I didn’t feel ready or prepared or worthy, but she was here, and she was kissing me, I wasn’t about to ruin the moment with questions or idle talk.
Instead, I ran my hands down her back, cupped her bottom, and pulled her even closer to me.
“Cordelia,” I whispered.
“Cooper...”
“We don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for.”
She pulled away and looked up at me.
“Take me to the bedroom, Coop.”
11.
Cordelia
ON THE NIGHT I LOST my mother, I drank a bottle of wine and cried alone. That had been one of the hardest things I’d ever gone through. It was before Jake entered my life’s timeline, but I had a feeling that even if it hadn’t been, he wouldn’t have been much comfort.
Then again, that was Jake.
He had always been into himself. He’d cared quite a bit about how things made him look. He was always worried that I would make him look bad or make
him look silly or naïve or stupid.
Somehow, Cooper didn’t give off the same vibe.
With Cooper, I had the idea that no matter what happened, everything was going to be okay. Cooper wasn’t going to judge me or make me cry. He wasn’t going to make me upset. He wasn’t going to break my heart or make me feel even worse than I already did.
Cooper was...
He was everything that Jake had not been.
“Are you sure?” He asked.
It didn’t feel like he was babying me. It didn’t feel like he was being mean or cruel or awkward. It just seemed like he cared an awful lot about my feelings and emotions, and right now, that was definitely a good thing.
“I’m sure.”
He took my hand, and he led me through the house. It was weird he’d bought my childhood home. I wanted to ask about it another time. This didn’t seem like the right time. Somehow, though, Cooper seemed to read my mind.
“It was for sale,” he said.
“It’s fine.”
“It was a good price.”
“I totally understand.”
“And I missed you.”
“You did?”
“So much,” he said.
“You didn’t call or look me up online or try to meet up with me,” I pointed out. “And Kansas City isn’t that far away.”
“I didn’t really know what I would have said,” he told me honestly. “Hey, I bought your old house, and that’s not creepy at all. I mean, is that what I should have said? I’m honestly not sure.”
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
“Me neither.”
We walked through the halls until we reached a bedroom. It was the master bedroom, but it hadn’t been my mom’s room. The three-bedroom house had two small rooms, and my mom and I had each used one of those. The big bedroom had been for guests, not that we ever had any. It had doubled as a craft room. I had almost no memories of that room, and that was probably a good thing since I had every intention of making love to Cooper.
Every intention.
We walked into the room and I gasped.
“Like it?”
“What did you do?” I asked.
“I spent some time decorating,” he explained.
“I can see that.”
“You’re actually the first one to see it,” he told me.
“No other girls, huh?”
“Not for a long time,” he said.
I wasn’t really sure whether that was supposed to make me feel good or bad. I wasn’t sure how it made me feel in reality, either. Was I supposed to be happy that I was the only girl to see his bedroom? Or was I supposed to say something charming and flirty? Perhaps the right response was to make a comment about how he’d kind of been saving himself, but nothing seemed right.
Instead of saying anything at all, I just looked at the room. The walls were painted black. I’d never seen a bedroom where the walls were black. It had to get hot in this room in the summer. It wasn’t entirely dark in the room, though. There were Christmas lights strung along the top of the walls, and the bed in the center of the room had no frame at all. There was a huge white comforter on the bed with what looked like twenty white pillows.
The only other thing in the bedroom was a single dresser across from the foot of the bed. It was painted white and had lights draped over it, too. The entire thing looked kind of magical. It was like something you’d see in a magazine or on a website designed to give you good ideas for creating a lovely home.
And I was about to have sex in that room.
I stared, looking around. It had been so long since I’d had sex with someone new that I wasn’t really sure what to do. Maybe that was a sign that the moment wasn’t right. Maybe it was a sign that we needed to take things a little slower. I couldn’t tell.
I looked over at Cooper, and suddenly, I didn’t feel excited.
I felt terrified.
Hannah was dead, and I was alone with Cooper Clark. Only, he was looking at me like he wanted to give me more pleasure than I could possibly imagine.
He was looking at me like he wanted to give me the best damn night of my life, and even though I’d assured him over and over again that I was ready, and even though nothing sounded better than melting into his arms and having him fuck my pain away, I didn’t know if I really was ready.
Something shifted in his expression, then. Instead of wild hunger and excitement, his face began to take on a different quality: concern. Compassion. He looked worried about me.
“Cordelia?”
“I’m fine,” I whispered.
“No, you aren’t fine.”
“I’m totally fine,” I said.
“You aren’t fine.”
“I’m fine,” I repeated. That time, it was a whisper. That time, I felt like my heart was cracking again.
Cooper turned to me and reached for my cheek. He rubbed his fingers against my skin and pulled them back, showing me that my skin was wet.
“You’re crying.”
“Those are happy tears,” I lied.
Cooper kissed my forehead, hugged me, and took my hand. He tugged me through the bedroom and into the bathroom. Like the rest of the house, it looked different than I remembered. He’d totally remodeled the bathroom. Well, him or the former owners. There was a huge walk-in shower. It seemed to take up half of the bathroom, and it had a waterfall at the back, as well as multiple showerheads.
He reached inside and turned on the water.
“What are you doing?”
“You know what I like to do after a shitty day?” He asked.
“What?”
“I like to come home, get naked, and sit in the shower,” he said.
“Somehow, I can’t imagine the great Cooper Clark ever having a bad day,” I told him. It was the truth, too. Cooper was something else. He was witty and funny and hot.
“You don’t know me at all,” he winked. “Come on.”
He started tugging at his shirt, yanking it over his head. I hadn’t seen him without a shirt on since we’d gone swimming the summer after middle school. It had been at Nessa McDougall’s birthday party, and pretty much everyone at school had been there. He’d been getting ready to go into his sophomore year, and I was an incoming freshman. He’d looked just as good to me then as he did now.
Then he started pushing at his pajama pants.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
“I’m taking a shower with you. Don’t be shy,” he said. “You were going to jump my bones a minute ago. This is much less scary.” He winked again, and somehow, that little gesture really did make me feel better.
I watched his abs. How much time did this guy spend at the gym? A lot? It had to be a lot. I liked to work out, too, but I was softer than he was. I had muscles, and I was strong, but I had a soft tummy and a big bottom. I wasn’t embarrassed about those things. If Cooper didn’t like the way I looked, he wouldn’t have brought me in here.
He pushed his pajama pants down, freeing his cock. He pushed the pants all the way to the floor, and he stepped out of them. His dick was hard, and he was shaved, and I stared blatantly at his penis.
“Like what you see?” He asked, obviously amused.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare,” I looked back up at him and licked my lips. Suddenly, I had a vision of myself kneeling before him. Would he like that? Was Coop the kind of guy who would like me sucking his cock right here in the bathroom?
“Sweetie, you can stare as much as you like,” he told me.
He watched me curiously as I reached out and started stroking him. As soon as my hand wrapped around his cock, Cooper closed his eyes. Okay, so it had been a long time since I’d touched a guy like this, and it felt good. It felt really, really good. My body seemed to be on fire. There were sparks shooting throughout my core, and I wanted him.
I really, really wanted him.
Life was all about second chances. It was all about being bold and brave when you were used
to being scared. Long ago, I’d regretted not taking more chances. Did I really want to live with that regret again?
I dropped to my knees before I could talk myself out of it. I knelt in front of him and looked up at Cooper. He opened his eyes, obviously surprised, but as soon as I started licking his cock, he closed his eyes again.
Cooper didn’t try to be a good guy. He didn’t try to tell me that it wasn’t a good time or that I wasn’t in my right mind. He’d been wildly patient with me, and he’d given me room to change my mind. He hadn’t pressured me or tricked me into this. This was just what I wanted.
He stood perfectly still as I sucked on his cock, licking and teasing his length. He tasted good: clean and manly. I played with his balls and I slid my tongue over his cock. Over and over, I explored his body. I teased him, playing with him. When he started groaning, I felt sexy as hell. Who said women in their 30s couldn’t be sexy goddesses?
“Cordelia,” he whispered, but I didn’t stop.
I kept sucking on his cock. I grabbed his ass, pulling him deeper into my throat, sucking harder and harder.
“I’m going to come if you don’t stop,” he whispered. It was a warning, but it was also a question. I didn’t care. I wanted him. I wanted to taste him in my mouth. I wanted to know that I was powerful and sexy and could make him fall apart just for me.
And then he did.
He grabbed my hair as he came, filling my mouth in quick, short spurts. His cum tasted salty, and I swallowed, licking and teasing until his cock had stopped pulsing.
When he was done, I pulled back and looked up at him.
“That was so fucking hot,” he whispered.
I smiled up at him.
“Still ready for that shower?”
12.
Cooper
CORDELIA LET ME STRIP her down. As I pulled on her clothes, revealing her body, I kissed her neck, and then her collarbone, and then her breasts. I teased each of them in turn, playing with them, and then I sucked and nibbled on her breasts. Her tits were lovely: sweet and full. I tasted her, teasing her, and then I pulled her closer to me.
