It was a little chilly, but I didn’t mind, just leaned on a post on the patio with my eyes on the horizon, watching the water lap the sand and recede, listening to the steady rush of the waves, waiting for the sun.
I’d always been waiting on the sun, even when I thought I’d caught it with Jimmy. I knew now. I knew that Cooper was my sun, but I was his sun too. I didn’t need to orbit him, and he didn’t need to orbit me. We were a constellation, two stars connected as we moved through the heavens together, holding each other close with our own gravity.
I turned to find him behind me, tall and dark in the doorway, leaning against the frame, watching me. His hands were in the pockets of his jersey pants, his chest bare, eyes dark, his face full of love and longing. He pushed off the wall and grabbed a blanket on his way to me, opening it up. He wrapped it around his shoulders and opened his arms, and I settled into his chest, slipping my arms around his waist, pulling our bodies flush, our faces turned to the ocean.
He rocked me gently. “I imagined this moment. You. Here. The sunrise. But I never imagined I would feel this way.”
My heart was so full, so heavy with emotion, and I recognized the feeling — the way he made me feel — for the first time. Compared it to every other feeling, but it was singular. Distinctive. Extraordinary. “My whole life, I thought I knew what love was. I thought I understood it, but I didn’t know. Not until you.”
He squeezed me tighter, took a shallow breath.
“But you knew all along, didn’t you? You knew, and you tried to show me, but I fought you every step of the way.”
“Lucky for us, I won.”
I laughed softly, my chest aching as I pulled him even closer.
“Stay with me, Maggie.”
I looked up at him.
“I don’t want to be without you. Not for a minute I don’t have to be. Come home with me tonight. Come home with me tomorrow night and every night.”
I took a breath, lips parted to speak, but he headed me off.
“If it’s ever too much, if you need time or space, it’s yours. But if you want to stay, stay.”
“They’ll think we’re crazy.”
The honesty, the earnestness in his eyes overwhelmed me. “I don’t care what they think. What do you think?”
My mind spun around, thinking it was crazy and irresponsible. Irrational. That I would doom us from the start if I agreed.
There was only one answer to give.
“Of course I will. I love you.”
He smiled at me, the relief plain to see, his eyes sparkling as he kissed me. And I knew then that I’d be staying forever.
28
EPILOGUE - COOPER
Cooper
WE SAT IN HABITS THAT night with our friends, sun kissed and windblown. Maggie’s arm was wrapped around mine, her smile bright as we drank and laughed after the best weekend of my life.
Lily sat on a barstool between West’s legs, grinning at us. West didn’t look like he wanted to hit me, so I was calling that a win. Patrick leaned back against the bar smirking, and Rose leaned from behind the bar next to him. Astrid sipped her drink, watching us sentimentally.
Lily shook her head. “I am so glad you’re back, Maggie. We missed you.”
“Me too. Jackson is hot, y’all. I’ve been here a month and I’d already deacclimated.”
West laughed. “Yeah, I don’t miss the mosquito hordes either.”
“Not even a little.”
“Mom’s pie, however …”
“Never get enough,” she said.
“Thank God you’re back. I’ve had no one to watch 90s teen movies with.” Rose smiled. “I’m so glad I’ll have a roommate again.”
Patrick had a weird look on his face, and I eyed him.
“Hey.” Lily made a face.
“What?” Rose asked. “I think we can all agree you’re my roommate in name only these days.”
She settled back into West and blushed. “Oh, fine.”
Maggie looked up at me nervously. “Well, about that …”
Oh, God. Here it goes. I squeezed her hand between my arm and ribs.
West narrowed his eyes.
Maggie took a breath. “I’m going to be staying with Cooper.”
A surprised laugh shot out of Lily, and West looked like he was imagining ways to decapitate me. Everyone else just gaped.
I cleared my throat. “I know it seems fast—”
“Seems fast?” West asked, ears red.
I gave him a look. “I live around the corner from her job. It’s not like she can’t come back if she wants to, right?” I asked Lily and Rose.
Lily shook her head, seemingly to clear it. “Of course. You’re always welcome, Maggie. And we are so happy for you guys.” She slipped off her stool, and everyone stood. Patrick clapped me on the shoulder and smiled, and the girls took turns hugging.
I stepped over to West, flashing The Smile. “Come on, Williams. You’re not really mad, are you?”
His eyes narrowed, but when he looked over at Maggie, saw her smiling and laughing with the girls, something in his face changed, softened.
“If you hurt her, I’ll fucking murder you.”
I slipped my hands in my pockets. “I know.”
“I’m not even kidding, Cooper.”
“I know.”
He let out a sigh. “Just make her happy.”
I looked over at her, my eyes roaming her rosy cheeks, her bright eyes, the smile that changed my life, and I made him a promise.
“I will.”
29
EPILOGUE - MAGGIE
Maggie
I PULLED THE BOAT INTO the wind, and when the sails luffed, I locked the wheel and turned on the engine. Cooper was already lowering the jib, the wind blowing his hair, his smile a thousand watts brighter against his deep tan. I moved past him to the mainsail and grabbed the halyard rope, pulling hand over hand until it was lowered completely.
Santorini sat just in the distance — the blue roofs and white walls lining the sheer cliff in the dusk — and I took a moment to appreciate the sight as Cooper headed back to the cockpit and pulled us into the harbor.
It was the end of May, and we’d both taken an extended Memorial Day holiday to go to Greece. We flew into Athens where we spent a few glorious days before renting a sailboat yacht much like Midnight Caller. First, we sailed to Mykonos, a beautiful party island, then Rhodes, full of history. Our last stop before heading back to Athens was Santorini, and I already knew it would be my favorite.
We pulled into the slip and showered, changed for dinner — him in a suit cut to perfection, me in a royal blue dress cut to keep Cooper’s eyes on my neckline. His arms were around me, his lips to my ear as we rode in a taxi up the switchback into town. His hand never left mine as we walked the streets and found the restaurant he wanted to take me to.
It was almost like a patio in that there were no window panes, just open arches that overlooked the ocean and the curve of the cliff. The white walls of the buildings glowed, illuminated by lights along the ground so they shone against the night, the domed blue roofs of each building the same shade as my dress. It was magical. The trip had been magical. My life was magical. And all because of him.
Oh, how things had changed over the course of a few weeks. I’d moved my belongings, which were mostly shoes, into Cooper’s apartment. I’d gotten my own keys and had access to Bobby whenever I needed. We worked most days, and Cooper cooked dinner most nights. We watched a lot of Netflix — most recently a binge session of Star Trek: The Next Generation, since I’d never seen it and Cooper wanted to show me.
He wanted to show me everything.
It was overwhelming, at first. Obviously, the rules were gone, so the first thing he did was take me out to a string of gourmet restaurants, though I made him order for me because I was afraid to see the prices. He’d also made sport of buying me things, to make up for the time the rules were still in place, he’d said.
We w
ent back to Coney Island, and I’m happy to report that this time, he kissed me in the Spook-A-Rama just as a bloody mannequin head popped out of the dark at us. And it was awesome.
But even now, as we sat in Greece after the most brilliant vacation of my life, the thing that made it right was him.
See, when I met Cooper, something in me shifted on an elemental level, as if he changed my chemistry, rearranged me. I needed him, but not in the desperate way. Being with him was a universal truth. It was a quiet fact. Once I found him, the world made sense simply because he was in it and he loved me.
The lamb had been cleared away, and the baba ganoush was very nearly gone, and we drank our wine and talked. We laughed and we smiled. He took my hand, and I followed him through the quiet streets of Santorini.
He pulled me into an alcove on the cliff overlooking the ocean, and we could see the curve of the island, the buildings lit up in the night lining the coast and staggered in tiers below us. There were so many stars, more stars than I’d ever seen, and I tipped up my chin, my eyes on the heavens. Cooper sat on the low wall, watching me for a long moment before pulling me to him.
He looked up at me, my beautiful boy with his eyes full of stars, smiling at me sweetly before he looked down at my right hand, turning it over in his.
My free hand found his cheek, and he leaned into my palm, turning his head to kiss it as I felt him slip the ring onto my finger.
I looked down, and so did he, his fingers spinning the simple silver ring he’d placed on my ring finger. I knew the ring — I’d seen it in Rhodes at the market and admired it before putting it back. I didn’t think he’d even been paying attention. But of course he was.
His voice was thick with emotion when he finally spoke, his eyes still on my hand. “I don’t know how I lived my whole life without you. I don’t know how I survived a single day without hearing your voice. I don’t know how I woke up every morning without your face being the first thing I saw. I don’t ever want to know what that feels like, to not have you.”
He rose slowly, slipped a hand into my hair, searched my face. Stole my breath. Stopped my heart. “One day, I’m going to give you another ring. I’ll ask you to stay with me forever, and I’ll make a promise to you, to love you, to cherish you until I take my last breath. It’ll be the easiest thing I’ll ever do. I love you, Maggie, and I’m yours. Be mine.”
In all my life, it was all I would ever want. He was all I would ever want. “I’m yours,” I whispered, the words of my heart set free.
And the kiss he laid on my lips seared my soul, branding me his forever.
Copyright © 2016 Staci Hart
All rights reserved.
stacihartnovels.com
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Cover design by Quirky Bird
Photography by Perrywinkle Photography
Editing by Librum Artis
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#GoHomeShirley
1
MEOW
Rose
MY BREATH CAME IN BURSTS, heart pounding as Patrick’s long body pressed me into the bed. There wasn’t an inch between us — we were a tangle of arms and legs, lips and hands, and any will I had to stop him was long gone. I didn’t care that I should. I didn’t care about anything, not with his fingers stroking my skin like a match, trailing heat in their wake.
He was even better than I remembered.
I opened my heavy lids when he backed away to pull off his shirt, taking a quick second to catch my breath as I skimmed my fingers down his tattooed chest, my eyes roaming over the art that covered every inch of his skin as he watched. It was his soul laid bare — the good and the bad, the happy and sad, all chronicled in black ink so he could remember. As if he could ever forget.
It was a sight I’d missed more than I’d ever confess.
He bent to kiss me, breathing until his breath was mine and mine was his. It was fevered, frantic — my hand against the sharp angle of his jaw, his lips hard, my eyes pinned shut — erasing everything that had happened between us. As if it had never happened.
Patrick broke away to kiss my neck just as a black cat jumped on the bed, and I glanced over with bleary eyes to meet the cat’s. He meowed, teeth like tiny white needles against the jet black of his fur.
Patrick didn’t stop or seem to notice. His hands slipped up my thighs, tongue brushing my skin, wet lips closing, and my lids fluttered, a sigh slipping out of me as I twisted my fingers in his black hair.
An orange tabby hopped onto the bed and strutted across to sit next to the black one, tail twitching. He blinked at me and meowed.
“What the hell?” I muttered, confusion on my face as another one — this time smoke gray — found its way onto my bed, sat next to the others, looked right at me, and meowed like an absolute bastard.
My face fell as flat as my hope. “I’m fucking dreaming.”
This was the moment when my eyes flew open, and I gasped as I woke unwillingly.
Patrick was gone, and so were the cats. My clothes were sadly in place, the room chilly and dark, and my phone alarm meowed at me from my nightstand.
“Son of a bitch,” I huffed, heart still chugging as I rolled over to swipe blindly at the screen to stop the noise.
The phone was still in my hand as I flopped back in bed, reminding myself again to change the ringer when I could open my eyes. My roommate, Lily, had set it as a joke weeks ago, and I could never remember to change it back. Instead, I considered options for a payback ringer, top of the list being broken glass, crying baby, and angry hen.
I cracked one eye to glance at my screen. It was eight in the morning, an hour that normally didn’t exist in my universe. I’d never been a morning person, which was part of the draw in bartending. Of course, it made adulting kind of hard when you didn’t get up until two, but luckily, I didn’t have to adult very often. Jury duty being an unavoidable, annoying, and despicable exception.
I thought real hard about the two-hundred-fifty dollar fine I’d get nailed with if I didn’t show up.
Real hard.
But it wasn’t worth it. I’d get out of bed for two-hundred-fifty bones. Hell, if you fed me enough tequila and I had on a pretty bra, I’d probably take my shirt off for that kind of money.
I sighed and flipped off my comforter before reaching over to turn on my lamp. My room was always dark thanks to blackout curtains that aided and abetted my reverse sleep habits. The only time they were opened was when Lily wanted to torture me out of bed before lunch.
She was spared a sudden, gruesome death only because she’s my best friend.
I peeled myself out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom in nothing but a Cub Scout T-shirt and panties, rubbing my face as I yawned, trying not to think about how warm my bed had been. Definitely trying not to think about Patrick’s lips — or his hands, or jaw, or tattoos or his —
He dumped you more than seven months ago, Rose. Get over it.
Stupid asshole dreams.
Let me give you some relationship advice. Don’t date the guy down the hall, because when he dumps you, you can’t get away. Definitely don’t date a guy in your group of super tight-knit friends, because then you really fuck yourself. Especially if he was your best friend, and especially if he never stopped looking at you like he’d devour you if you’d say the word, even months after he dropped you like a bad habit. Really makes it hard to stick to your guns.
But stick to my guns I did. Patrick and I were an unwieldy, knot
ted up mess, so when it ended for good, that was it. I didn’t even know how to approach fixing it because it was fucked up beyond all repair, so I threw up the wall. And once the wall is up, there’s no scaling it. It’s like nuclear lockdown — gates don’t open for two-hundred years, so go get yourself a Snickers and pull up a chair because we’re going to be here for a while.
I glanced in the mirror and yawned again, hazel eyes watering as I twisted my long, shaggy black hair into a rope and tossed it over my shoulder, feeling grumbly as I washed my face and hands. I needed to at least look presentable, wear something professional-ish, which was a problem since ripped up jeans and combat boots made up a large sum of my wardrobe. So I sighed heavily and made my way into Lily’s room to find something ‘normal’ to wear. She was the light to my dark, the optimist to my cynic. The ‘normal’ to my ‘not.’
I stopped dead when I stepped into her room.
A body shaped lump was stretched out in Lily’s bed under her covers.
The problem: Lily hadn’t slept at home in months.
My pulse exploded in a burst as I tried to figure out who it was because that lump was too big to be Lily. Obviously the logical leap was that a homeless guy wandered in and crashed in her bed. Or maybe it was a tired burglar. A lost little old man? Maybe the nursing home was looking for him. Or the police. Or his kids, looking for their inheritance.
I stood frozen next to the bed with my brain tripping over what to do. Call the cops. Scream. Run. Fight. I blinked and looked around for a weapon, eyes lighting when I landed on Lily’s nightstand.
My lips pursed, eyes on the lump as I opened the drawer silently and grabbed Philmore Dix.
I stepped closer to the pile of bedding, breath frozen in my lungs as I extended it slowly to poke the lump in what I thought might be its shoulder.