“Cyn,” Ryan said, “good to see you buddy! Come on, let’s hit the bar.”
He pulled her to the corner of the living room, where a temporary bar had been brought in. A member of the catering crew was stationed behind it ready to take their order.
“Let’s do a shot,” he whispered to her, continuing before she could protest, “Come on! I’ve been sitting here for hours with Mom, Dad, Coop, and his airhead… I need this!”
There was no way he had been there for any longer than twenty minutes, she thought, but him calling Coop’s fiancé an airhead made her smile. They each threw back a shot of whiskey before picking up a glass of red wine.
“You ready for this?” He asked, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. His brown eyes stared into hers. It didn’t matter that he lived across the country now. They didn’t speak as much as they used to, but he had always had the incredible ability to read her like a book, and now was no different.
“I think so,” she replied honestly; there was no use lying to Ryan. She wasn’t sure if the pit in her stomach was from the shot she just did or the fact that, after six years, she was going to have to interact with Coop.
“Hey stranger,” chills ran through her body as Coop gently put a hand on her back to turn her towards him. He pulled her into a hug. Cynthia was stiff, aware that everyone was watching her, scrutinizing her facial expressions and body language for her reaction. She pulled away from him but it was too late. She took a deep breath in and was filled with his musk. Masculine but soft, his smell was one that had once made her feel both safe and alive. Now, with that simple moment, everything returned to the surface. Every feeling she ever had for him that she had worked so hard for to bury rushed to the surface. All her blood, on the other hand, rushed between her legs. Her body was reverting right back to what it knew it wanted, even though Cynthia tried to convince it otherwise. Honestly, she felt more aroused with that brief body contact than she had felt having sex with her husband in, well… she didn’t know how long.
“You must be Cynthia, so nice to meet you,” Cynthia hadn’t noticed the woman standing next to Coop until she stuck out her hand to shake. Thankfully, Cynthia’s mother had drilled manners into her for so long that they worked on autopilot. Her hand was already shaking the tiny hand of Coop’s fiancé.
“I’m Rose,” she said, smiling. The frame of her curly dark hair accentuated the beauty of her green eyes. Piercings ran up the length of both her ears and her short-sleeved dress showcased a slender, petite body. She didn’t seem to be wearing any make up, but she didn’t need any. She was effortlessly flawless.
Cynthia was immediately aware of the gaudy red lipstick she had on and how grotesquely tall she was. Her eyes darted to Rose’s left hand, where she was wearing an understated, gold band with a small, solitary diamond. It couldn’t have been more than a single carat. It was dwarfed by the four carat masterpiece that adorned Cynthia’s finger. She used her left hand to slowly push her hair back, making sure everyone had a good view of it.
“Not short for Rosacea,” Ryan chimed in, “I asked,” he had the smallest hint of a smile, which made Cynthia love him.
“Rose, what a pretty name,” Cynthia observed, making every effort she could to be the bigger person, “what do you do?”
“What do you mean?” She replied, with a vacant smile. Coop looked visibly uncomfortable.
“Tell her about the yoga, Rose,” he encouraged, with a look that said he had to do this more often than he liked.
“Oh, yeah, yoga. I do yoga. I teach it, I mean. I go to people’s houses. Mainly rich people,” she laughed, “it’s fun. I’m not certified or anything but I’ve been to enough classes that I think I’ve got the hang of it. I just started working with your mom, actually.”
“My mom?” Cynthia was shocked, “Her?”
She pointed to her mother, who could never have had the patience for something like that. Imagining her being led through a clumsy yoga routine was hilarious, especially with an instructor who was faking her way through it.
“I’d pay to see that,” Cynthia said. The shot she and Ryan had taken was starting to settle in, and she wasn’t as miserable as she thought she would be.
“Well you should join us sometime,” Cynthia’s mother appeared by her side, dressed in a navy long sleeved dress and a delicate strand of pearls around her neck, “it’s great. I can already touch my toes. Come on, dinner’s ready. Where’s your father?”
She gestured toward the dining room, indicating that they should all take their seats. Being who she was, her mother had placed thick parchment name cards at each of their seats. A thin gold line framed each name, which perfectly tied in to the white and gold china and the coordinating white linen tablecloth. There was no such thing as a casual dinner when it came to Nancy Holland. Ryan picked up his and swapped it with Rose’s to move her a little further from Cynthia.
The staff had laid out an incredible meal in the dining room. The salads were being plated on each table setting as they entered. Cynthia’s father, Smith, came downstairs. He had the same stocky build as Ryan, but was a few inches taller. Where Ryan’s eyes were soft and his face friendly, Smith Holland’s features seemed more stern. Nancy rolled her eyes.
“Just in time for dinner, Smith,” she said. Even though she was smiling, Cynthia knew this was her mother’s subtle way of scolding her father.
“Oh Nancy, duty called. And you know I’ve already had more than enough of this crowd,” he said, throwing a wink at Cynthia and Ryan, who had seats next to each other at the table. They got up to hug their father. He greeted the other men at the table with a firm handshake.
“Good to see you, sir,” Glen said.
Coop pulled Smith into a hug.
“You’re not my boss for another week, right?” He said, laughing.
“That’s right. You’re going to make a great addition to the team, Coop. Rosie, good to see you again,” Cynthia felt a tightness in her chest as her father greeted this girl with a nickname. As if he sensed her reaction, he slapped a reassuring hand on Cynthia’s shoulder.
“Let’s eat!”
Six bottles of wine later, with the food finished, they were all laughing as Ryan told a story about his college days.
“Where did you go to college?” Rose jumped in. It was clear that she had been trying to insert herself into the conversation in order to get to know everyone. She’d been doing it all night. It was nice that she was making an effort, but it was a bit awkward and obvious she couldn’t keep up. In sharp contrast, even after three years, Glen still kept to himself.
“Princeton,” Ryan responded quickly, taking a breath to return to his story.
“Oh, where’s that?” Rose asked, excited someone was addressing her directly.
“It’s in Princeton, sweetie,” he said slowly, exaggeratedly looking around the room. Cynthia kicked him under the table. He was doing this for her, but she was starting to feel bad for poor Rose. The girl was clearly out of her element, and a lot of the conversation topics had flown over her head. Coop, on the other hand, fit in with the family so well that he didn’t notice her struggling. It was as if she were there alone.
“So anyway, there we were, under this tree totally out of breath—wait,” he looked around for a member of the catering staff, “didn’t I ask the for more wine?”
“Ryan!” Cynthia exclaimed laughing, her eyes wide, “don’t be rude. I’ll get it,” she got up and headed for the kitchen, happy for the short break from the room.
She was having a good time listening to Ryan’s stories and catching up with her parents, but it wasn’t completely comfortable for her to be back with this group. Her history with Coop aside, Glen was so on edge in front of her father. Of course, he was rarely loose or comfortable in general, but it was worse with her family. And although they said otherwise, Cynthia and Ryan’s relationships with their parents were strained.
She loved her parent’s kitchen. It was completely white,
aside from the stainless steel appliances. White tile, white marble countertops, white window trimmings around the picture window that framed the backyard. She dismissed the staff’s offerings to help and leaned into the wine refrigerator to pick out a bottle of white she thought Ryan would enjoy.
“Can you excuse us for a second?” Cynthia froze at the sound of Coop’s voice.
“Certainly, sir,” the waiter answered, and with a wave of his hand, they were alone. She didn’t turn around.
“Holland,” he said quietly.
“No,” she felt a familiar rush hearing him call her that. When they first met, she had teased him for going by his last name, like some kind of high school football player. But he was unfazed. He laughed it off and came right back at her. He said he was going to call her by her last name, which according to him was much dorkier than his. She put up a fight, but he quickly saw through her flirty protests; she loved having a special name that only he used for her. He used to whisper it in her ear. Just hearing his voice say her name jarred her as if she were struck by lightning. She closed her eyes.
“No. You do not get to call me that,” she opened her eyes and started slamming cabinets, frantically looking for a white wine glass for Ryan.
“I called,” he started, “I did, well you know that. I tried. But we were kids Holl--Cynthia, and with everything with my parents, I just--I just didn’t know how to handle something like that.”
“Something like that?” She whispered, because she knew she couldn’t yell, “something like that, Coop? Say it.”
“What?” he replied, clearly shaken.
“Say it. Tell me what you left me with.”
“A… you were… you know Cynthia, don’t…”
“Say it.” Cynthia demanded, louder. She didn’t care who overheard them now. She was going to get the acknowledgement that she had waited six years for.
“Pregnant.” He whispered, shifting his gentle green eyes away from the fire in hers.
“A baby,” she clarified, her brown eyes squinting and her face on fire, “you left me with a baby. And no choice.”
Cynthia remembered the moment as vividly as she saw him standing before her now. It had changed her life forever in ways she had never even thought possible. They were in the bathroom that connected to her bedroom in same house in which they stood now. Cynthia was sitting on the black marble sink counter looking at Coop, waiting for a response, but he wouldn’t lift his gaze from the pregnancy test in his hand. He had been staring blankly at it for what felt like an eternity and still hadn’t said a word.
Prior to that moment, before his silence said more about his true feelings than he would, she had been optimistic. She thought that once he got over the initial shock, like she had, the whole situation would bring them closer. They weren’t just casually seeing each other now. They were about to become a family. Or at least that’s what she had thought.
But now, sitting under the harsh reality of the bathroom lights, she could see exactly how naive she was. There was no way this ended with them walking down the aisle. He wouldn’t even look at her; there was no way he would smile, hold her, or tell her he loved her. Suddenly, everything had changed. Just like that, Cynthia was embarrassed of the life she had imagined for them. She did her best to say what her heart knew Coop wanted. Eyes filling with tears, she took a deep breath.
“Yeah, well you know we can always just…” she trailed off, shaking her head and waving a hand dismissively.
“You sure?” Coop replied, just a little too quickly, “I mean, with me being where I am now and you starting law school… you can’t pass that up dealing with this, you know? My… my parents splitting up I just, everything I think I know about family and…” He saw her crying.
“Hey,” he reached over and tenderly touched her face. As he wiped her tears he said, “It’s not that I don’t love you, Holland. You get that, right?” It was that moment, in that bathroom with his hands holding her face, that she knew that wasn’t true.
“I would have gone with you to have it done you know that, but you didn’t—”
Cynthia finally found a wine glass in the cabinet and pushed her way past Coop. She wasn’t about to let him finish. There was no way she was going to allow him to shirk any of the blame and guilt he deserved for him abandoning her when she was desperate, lost, and terrified.
She burst into the dining room, where Ryan still had everyone laughing with his story. A mixture of jealousy and sadness ripped through her chest. Cynthia wished she could be this carefree. She wished that being reunited with family and old friends meant the same thing to her that it meant to everyone else.
“I’m not feeling well,” she said, causing the laughter to immediately die out. She slammed the wine glass and the bottle on the table.
“Goodnight.”
Cynthia heard her mother start to say something but didn’t break stride. She cut through the living room and left the house.
The shock of the December air helped even her out a bit. She was thankful she hadn’t stopped for her coat. She needed to put an end to this humiliating outburst and think clearly.
She got back to her house and sobbed, hot tears rolling down her cheeks and onto her dress. She swiped at her face, without any regard for preserving her make up and hair. She climbed the stairs to her bedroom and pulled open the top drawer of her dresser. She dug her way past her delicates until she found the tattered old gift box she was looking for. Her breath caught in her throat.
She saw herself in the mirror above her dresser and she noticed her dress. How had she thought this was flattering? It was tight and constricting, maybe even a little tacky. Angry with herself and the dress, she pulled down the zipper and ripped it off. Dropping the box on the bed, she took a deep breath and sat cross legged next to it.
She paused, staring at the box for just moment, gathering herself. Cynthia heard a knock, and the door creaked open.
“Get out, Glen,” she said. Her back was to the door and she didn’t bother to turn around.
“It’s me,” she heard Coop’s smooth voice and turned, immediately aware that a delicate black lace thong was the only thing she was wearing.
“Wow,” he said breathlessly. Cynthia watched as his eyes slowly took in every inch of her body. She made no attempt to cover herself; she was half in shock that Coop’s brown hair and green eyes were poking themselves into her bedroom, and half glad he was seeing her naked. All the anger she had felt a moment ago started to diminish as she saw the way he looked at her.
She could feel his gaze tenderly studying her. As he stood in the doorway taking her in, she felt her body get hot. It started in her chest and spread downward. Her hips involuntarily moved slowly on the bed, pressing her wetness into the white duvet. She longed for him to come in and do what he was so good at doing; he had always known where and how to touch her. It was like he could read her mind, but that was impossible; she didn’t even know she wanted the things he did to her until he was doing them. Being with him was different than anyone else she had encountered. Better than anyone else. She could get up and invite him in…
Instead, she raised her eyebrows.
“Oh, right. Sorry,” he closed the door until there was just a small crack left, “um, I have your coat, you left it, so.”
Out of view, Cynthia allowed herself to smile softly at his awkwardness. It was good to know she still had it.
“So, I’ll talk to you, okay?”
“Bye, Coop,” the tenderness in her voice betrayed her. She didn’t want to let him off this easily, but she couldn’t help it. Even after all these years, his charm still had complete control over her. He picked up on her change in demeanor immediately.
“I’ll see ya, Holland,” he promised as he shut the door. She could hear the smile in his voice.
Cynthia breathed deep to calm herself. She adjusted her thong and tucked her hair back behind her ears.
She turned her attention back towards the box in front of
her; this time seeing it very differently than she had moments ago.
Finally, after all the time she had kept this box—her secret— hidden, she felt at ease as she held it in her hands. In fact, she was almost excited to finally see what the envelope at the bottom of it contained.
She opened it and sifted through the first few layers. Bills, receipts, a photo of her first ultrasound, with Baby Holland printed at the bottom.
She slowed down as she got closer to what she was looking for. Pressed into the bottom of the box, where it had laid for so many years, was an envelope she had never opened. She pried it out and held it in front of her. The edges were bent and the writing had faded; it was surprising how quickly that happened. She stared at the logo.
The Hartfield Private Adoption Agency.
Hands shaking, she carefully tore the seal and slid the letter out. She skimmed the page. Her adrenaline stopped her eyes from being able to slow down long enough to read it all properly.
Odessa, Texas. She quickly flipped the page over and slammed it onto the bed. Texas. That was far from here. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? She tried to control her breathing as she kept the page pinned down, as if it would try to flip itself over. She didn’t want to know anything else. Not yet. She didn’t want to know who had her or what they had named her. To her, her baby girl would always be Caroline.
Chapter 2: The Girl Next Door
Cynthia stirred, bringing the heavy white duvet with her. Her sleep had been restless and troubled. When she did dream, it was dark. It seemed to jump around and she couldn’t quite relax into it. She was in the delivery room watching her baby be wheeled from the room. The baby’s cries would grow fainter until she couldn’t hear them over her own.
The room dissolved and suddenly she was in her studio apartment during her first year of law school, sitting on her bed among piles of clothes and books. Her pregnant stomach was just starting to show and she was desperately trying to find something to wear to class that would keep it concealed. The sound of her own crying was drowned out by her phone continuously ringing. It was Coop. He had called her on and off for the last few months, but she couldn’t answer.
Romance: Pummel Me: A Boxing Romance Page 14