“Well, if you had,” Cooper said looking me up and down, “I would never know.” He also didn’t seem to know that he was the reason I fell out of my gym routine in the first place.
“I do have a question.” Cooper looked at me with an eyebrow raised. “I had said we would meet here because I assumed you would want to avoid your hotel.”
“I do. That’s why we’re here,” I said pointedly.
“But ... are you planning to change?” Cooper sounded bewildered. “I thought we would go somewhere a little more...”
I looked down at my outfit as he gestured at my clothes, clearly disapproving. Unbidden, the memory of the night Simon made me feel like the most beautiful girl in Paris while I wore a similar outfit popped into my mind. My face flushed, and I drew a breath.
“Cooper, the plan was to talk. Not go to a five-star restaurant.”
“Oh, right. I know. I just thought... Never mind. You look great. Would you excuse me for a moment?”
I nodded and Cooper turned around and walked over to the concierge.
I saw them speaking for a few minutes as the man behind the desk jotted some things down. He looked over at me, smiled, and then picked up the phone.
“What was that all about?” I said when Cooper returned.
“Nothing. I just wanted to cancel the reservation I’d made. Let’s do Florence your way.”
A flash of anger bolted through my gut. At home, Cooper had always chosen where we ate and with whom. I realized the number of times I had chosen our destination were few. I wasn’t sure if it was his general nature to want to control the situation, if he just assumed I liked the same kind of places he did, or if he thought he was being kind by showing me the right places to go.
Usually I didn’t mind. After all, what girl didn’t love shopping in designer stores on Fifth Avenue, dining at top spots, or getting her nails done behind the red doors of Elizabeth Arden instead of at the corner sweatshop.
Suddenly, though, I wasn’t quite so amused by his need to be the one in charge. Maybe I liked eating with my hands in a tiny Ethiopian hole in the wall in the East Village—a place Cooper refused to go even after I read a flattering review in The Village Voice—or casually dine in a Florentine trattoria on a side street. I had always played along, stifling my wants just to please him. Well, not anymore. He lost that right.
“Do Florence my way? And what way is that?” I said dryly, while Cooper laughed aloud.
“Casual, no pressure. Whatever way you want it to be.”
I gave him a sideways look. “Are you talking about Florence or us?”
Cooper narrowed an eye. “That’s subjective, my pretty lady,” he said with a smile. “Shall we?” He offered me a bent arm.
I went to take his arm and stopped myself, folding my own arms awkwardly across my chest. “Sure.”
“You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”
“Not a chance.” I smiled sweetly and started to walk. “I passed a quaint little restaurant right outside the hotel. Want to try it? I looked it up in Fodor’s,” I said, waving my phone, “and it seems to be a favorite amongst the locals.”
“Sure.” Cooper walked alongside me. “I’m all yours. Just lead the way.”
“So, how are things at work?” I said, as the doorman opened the door and we stepped onto the sidewalk.
Cooper rolled his eyes. “Stressful, as usual.” He groaned reaching for his phone. “I think you just put a hex on me. As soon as you said the magic word, it began to vibrate.”
“What word? Work?”
“See?” Cooper cried, holding the buzzing phone in his hand. “You did it again.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, just turn it off.”
“Ah, yes, have you heard the news, ladies and gentleman?” Cooper pretended to speak into the phone. “The market will now cease all financial affairs while Cooper Thomas is on vacation.”
“Very funny,” I said, shooting him a look. “Now tell me something, how did our dinner turn into a vacation?”
“I had the days,” he said with a shrug. “Don’t worry. I’m not expecting anything from you.” He stuffed the phone back into his pocket.
“Good, and thank you for putting your phone away. That damn thing buzzing on the dresser all night long is one thing I do not miss at all,” I said holding up a finger.
“Are you saying there are some things you do miss?” Cooper wore a hopeful look as he awaited my response. I didn’t give him the courtesy of one.
“Here we are,” I announced with a flourish instead, stopping in front of the restaurant, relieved I didn’t have to answer Cooper’s question.
“Luce,” Cooper said gently, placing his hands on my shoulders. “Can you please answer the question? Do you miss me at all?”
My eyes welled with tears. “That’s not fair, Cooper.” I looked away and my gaze fell on a gaggle of teenage students who stood in school uniforms, armed with books and Grande cups of Starbucks. For a brief moment, I wondered how Starbucks could be so popular in the motherland of espresso.
“Hey,” Cooper said, tipping my chin to look up at him. “I’m sorry. I would do anything to take back all the hurt I caused you.” He had become teary-eyed as well.
“What are you doing here, Coop?” I looked into his watery eyes searchingly. “I was trying to forget about you. I was trying to find myself,” I cried, with my hand on my chest. “Why are you doing this? Why now?”
“I messed up, Luce,” Cooper replied, throwing his hands in the air. “I took the best thing that ever happened to me and threw it all away.”
He ran his hands through his hair, clasped them behind his head, and looked up at the sky in despair. “And you want to know the worst part of it all?” he said, snapping his head back down. “I failed you. I let you down. I abandoned you at a time when you needed me by your side.”
Cooper looked down at the street and hung his head. He looked like a pathetic little kid, and part of me wanted to hug him tight and tell him that all was forgiven. The other part, the angry part with the broken heart, just wanted to slap the shit out of him.
I groaned inwardly, feeling like a fish being reeled in slowly. This was the side of Cooper that always got me. I had always melted when I saw glimpses of that vulnerable child, the one who always tried so hard to get his mother’s approval. The one who blamed himself for his father’s abandonment so many years ago. The one who was so afraid of being hurt again, that he had built a wall around him.
“But why now?” I said again. “Why all of a sudden?”
He looked up at me and stared into my eyes. “This isn’t all of a sudden, Luce. I came to my senses about a month after we broke up, but I was afraid.”
He saw my incredulous look. He was admitting to being afraid? Macho-in-charge Cooper?
He nodded. “Yes. I was afraid to admit I was wrong. I swallowed my pride and thought I would get over you. Of course I didn’t,” he said. “Then that night when you called...”
The reminder of my juvenile behavior in Amsterdam caused me to cringe. “I was really banged up.”
“I figured you were. You made some pretty bold statements.” Cooper frowned and looked at me gravely.
I squeezed my eyes shut and massaged my temples. “Was it that bad?” I peered at him with only one eye open. “Please don’t tell me I was mean,” I whispered.
“No, not at all. It made me feel great that you gave all my jewelry away. To the homeless woman on the corner of Fifth Avenue and Fifty-Seventh Street, no less.”
I bit my lip. “I told you that?”
“Oh yes. That was one of the nicer things to which you confessed.”
I waved both hands in front of him. “No more, please. I am so sorry.” I placed a hand over my chest and looked him in the eyes.
“You’re sorry?” Cooper sounded shocked. “I deserved every word of it. Just so you know, you could’ve said a hell of a lot worse and I would still be standing here.”
We
stood awkwardly in front of the restaurant. “Do you want to...?” I motioned to the window.
“Sure. ‘Mama Lucia’,” he read from the sign. “Based on the name alone, I like it already.” Cooper opened the door with a flourish. “After you, bella.”
I walked past him, and if there were such a thing as a gastronomical orgasm, then I had one upon entry. The smell was amazing. We walked by a circular table with platters of fresh antipasto. A massive bowl of basil was the centerpiece, and I had to curl my fingers to resist the urge to grab a sprig. I drew in a deep breath of what was probably responsible for the overpowering scent that filled the air.
I looked around at the locals and listened to their lively language bounce around the room. The tables were covered with red and white checked table clothes, vases made of old bottles, and more breadcrumbs than I could imagine.
I expected Mama Lucia herself to come waddling out of the kitchen. Again, it seemed I had stepped onto a movie set, and like the day I spent with Simon in the French countryside, I couldn’t keep my heart from beating a little faster. I felt higher than I had gotten in Amsterdam and took in a slow breath, enjoying the scent of fresh basil and truffles that wafted through the room.
“This is...” I began.
“Not ideal, right?” Cooper said, pulling a face.
I blinked at him. “I was going to say, perfect.” I felt somewhat deflated and frowned. “What don’t you like about it?”
“I don’t know.” Cooper’s lip curled as he looked around. “I know it’s your namesake,” he laughed, “but it’s kind of loud, no? And wouldn’t you rather go somewhere a little ... nicer? I can call the concierge and try to get our reservation back. Or maybe he can suggest something a bit fancier, with casual dress?”
“A-ha. I was wondering when the old Cooper would be making an appearance,” I said, rolling my eyes. While I had warmed up to Cooper’s vulnerable side, his snobby side was far harder to overlook.
“What does that mean?”
“Well, I know how you like things to be just so.”
“Buona sera,” the maitre d’ came over.
I looked at Cooper uneasily.
“Buona sera,” Cooper’s voice boomed. “Table for two, please.”
I looked at Copper and raised my eyebrows in question. He gave me a subtle nod and smile.
“Right this way,” the maitre d’ said. On our walk through the restaurant, we passed the biggest wheel of Parmesan cheese I’d ever seen in my life. I turned around to point it out to Cooper, but he was already tapping away on his phone.
“Here we are,” the maitre d’ said, holding out the chair for me.
“Grazie.” I grinned at him.
“Can I see the wine list?” Cooper requested.
“No signore. No list,” he replied, wagging his finger. “Just a nice house red. Delizioso,” he said, kissing his fingers. “All you can drink.”
A waitress appeared behind him with two glasses and a jug of wine. She put a loaf of bread on the table and poured a bowl of olive oil. “Buon appetito.”
“Scuzi?” Cooper said. “Can we have menus?”
The woman laughed. “There are no menus, Signore. We bring lots of food, and you eat lots of food,” she replied. I gave her a warm smile, which she returned, before walking away.
“I hate places like this,” Cooper muttered. “You get stuck drinking shitty wine and food you didn’t even want.”
I took a sip of the wine and smacked my lips. “It’s actually pretty good. Try it.”
Cooper made a face and raised his glass to his lips.
“Wait,” I cried. “Thank you for coming to see me,” I said, holding my glass in the air.
“What do they say in Italian? Salude?” Cooper clinked my glass.
“Salute.” I took another sip. The maitre d’ walked hurriedly past our table.
“Sal-ick,” Cooper groaned loudly, making a face as he wiped his lips. The maitre d’ stopped dead in his tracks and whipped his head around.
“You no like?” he said defensively.
“No. Not at all, man. Sorry,” Cooper grimaced. “You must have something else?”
“We have a house white, but it’s no good. This is the best,” he said with pride, hands flying in the air.
“It’s perfect,” I said. “We love it.”
“But the signore,” he said, with a look of pain. “He—”
“My friend isn’t a wine drinker,” I interrupted. I leaned closer towards him and gave him a knowing look. “He doesn’t know shit from Shinola.”
The maitre d’ broke out in peals of laughter. “Bella, I don’t know what that means, but I like,” he said, cupping my shoulder. “Grazie, bella, grazie.” He smiled and walked away.
“Very kind of you to have a laugh at my expense, friend,” Cooper said as he played around on his BlackBerry.
“You,” I pointed my finger at him, “were very rude. As is this,” I reached across the table to tap his phone. “Maybe you can save the blackberry for dessert?”
“Sorry.” Cooper slipped the phone into his breast pocket. “So... How’s the trip been?”
“Fabulous.” I looked at Cooper earnestly. I was eager to welcome a more neutral topic of conversation. “I can’t believe how much I’ve enjoyed seeing this part of the world. Oh, and in case you’re wondering, I didn’t even need Valium for the flight.” I sat up taller and shimmied in my seat.
Cooper gave me a half-smile and a puzzled look.
“Remember?” I looked at him pointedly. “I hate flying?”
“Oh. Right, right.” He nodded quickly and took a sip of wine, wincing as he swallowed. “How could I have forgotten?”
I threw my palms up and wondered that very same thing.
“Come to think of it...” He unbuttoned the cuff on his sleeve to look at his arm. “I think I still have nail marks from that first flight we took together.”
I rested my chin on my hand and grinned from behind my knuckles. There was a pregnant pause as we stared at each other in an awkward silence. I tucked my hair behind an ear and looked down at the table.
Cooper cleared his throat and swallowed. “So, how’s Tess been? Are you enjoying your travel companion?”
“Actually, I really am.”
“You sound surprised by that.”
“Well, when we started out, I wasn’t sure what my role was. We both had different agendas, and I tried to expose her to the things that ...” I paused, placing a hand on my chest, “I deemed important.” I lifted the linen napkin that covered the bread and extracted a warm chunk of freshly baked bread.
“And now?” Cooper said, eyeing my bread.
“Well, I think we have a nice pace. I’ve loosened the reins as ‘chaperone extraordinaire’ and gave her the space she deserves. She even went on a date.” Cooper reached for a piece of bread. “She got lost one day in Paris and met a nice guy who waited tables at a café and ...”
He froze with his hand mid-air. “You’re kidding me, right?
“No,” I said furrowing my eyebrows. “Why would I be kidding?”
“I just can’t believe you would let your niece, for whom you happen to be responsible, go out on a date with a ... a waiter.” Cooper wrinkled his nose and made a face.
Just when I thought I had broken out of the chaperone box, he put me one foot back in it. “She’s twenty-four,” I said sternly. A sudden tightness formed in my chest, and I picked up my glass of water. “And what’s wrong with being a waiter?”
Cooper raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to use the bathroom.” He pushed his chair back and stood up.
Good idea. I nodded politely.
“Do you think there’s even soap in there?” he said in a condescending tone.
“Of course there’s soap. What’s your problem with this place?”
“Nothing.” Cooper sat back down and leaned across the table. “It’s just so ... low brow,” he whispered.
“No, Cooper, it’s not low bro
w. It’s local. Big difference. And isn’t it great to experience a real Florentine restaurant?”
I looked over and realized he wasn’t buying any of my enthusiasm. I shook my head, disappointed.
“We should’ve just stayed at your hotel. Done dinner the Four Seasons way: elegant, upscale, and totally predictable.” I dipped a piece of bread in the oil and popped it into my mouth.
“I would’ve loved that. However, one of us was a little underdressed.” A sarcastic grin crossed his face.
The man was very lucky I had food in my mouth. It gave me enough time to think before I lashed out at him. I held my fist to my mouth, swallowed, and drew in a deep breath.
“Cooper,” I said calmly, “would you like to leave?” As I waited for his answer, I played with the side of the olive oil bowl.
The tiny hand-painted black olives on the bowl morphed into question marks as all sorts of things ran through my head. How could I have loved this man? Had he always been this way? And why hadn’t it bothered me in the past? Was I that blinded by his success and so flattered to have been ‘the chosen one’ that nothing else mattered? Or had he just gotten worse since we split? Did a little attention from a down-to-earth man open my eyes? Perhaps I was the one who changed and now saw him through fresh eyes. Whatever the reason, one thing was certain: he could be so goddamned obnoxious.
“So? Are we leaving or not?” I said again.
“Actually,” he said tightly, “that would be too late.” I followed his gaze to the platters of food heading towards us.
“Well,” I sighed. “I guess it’s settled. Can you please make the best of this?”
“Sorry,” Cooper smiled sheepishly. “I think I’m just nervous. Of course I can make the best of this.”
Shockingly, for the next two hours, he actually did. Not that it was all that difficult. The food was outrageously outrageous. We had an unbelievable Gorgonzola gnocchi and probably the best steak I’ve ever eaten in my entire life.
We kept the conversation light by sticking to neutral topics like friends and family. By the time we walked out of the restaurant, I knew we needed to talk. Really talk.
Tales From a Broad Page 20