Running my hand through my hair, I stare at the computer screen and thank God above that I'm just a simple man in a small town living a quiet life. I don't know how she puts up with that stuff.
The sound of a car pulling up to the front of my house catches my attention. I exit out of my browser and pull up my project specs just as I hear the front door open. The kitchen sits at the back of the house, so unless Eden walks back here, she won't see me. She'll know I'm here because my truck is out front, but I wait to see where she goes.
The clack of her shoes on the wood floors tells me she's wearing hard-soled heels, and the sound gets closer, so I brace for her to come into the kitchen. I turn my head just as she steps through the doorway.
"What are you doing here?" she asks softly as she folds her arms over her chest and leans against the door jamb.
I'm not about to tell her I came back to steal my room, so I just shrug. "It's a Friday and not much going on. Just doing some computer work, and I can do it just as easy here as I can at the office."
Eden nods and then stares at me pointedly. Finally, she says, "I'm sorry about your father. I just heard today that he died."
It doesn't happen every time I think of my dad, but it happens often enough. The soft sympathy and concern in Eden's voice causes it to happen now: a vicious twisting of my heart and a yearning for my father.
We were as close as a parent and child could be, as he raised me on his own after my mother died in childbirth. Outside of the four years I'd gone to college, we worked together in the family business. Not a day went by that I didn't at least talk to him on the phone if I didn't see him. His death and the heroics that caused it are a pain that slices deep into me. I'm proud of him, yet angry at the same time.
I'm also angry at Eden for acting like this is news to her when I know it's not. I know for a fact that she'd heard about my father's death. I hadn't really expected her to come to the funeral, but I expected at least an acknowledgment. Instead, there was nothing but silence.
But that's old news, and it shed light on the type of person Eden had become after finding fame and fortune. Nothing to do but accept that's the way she is.
"Thank you," I manage to say after I clear my throat, but I don't offer to extend the conversation. I sure as hell don't want to talk about it further.
Eden watches me carefully, and when I don't engage her, she sighs and turns from the kitchen. I hear her walk down the hall and start to climb the staircase.
I brace for her reaction and figure it's coming in three, two, one...
"Cooper Dean Mayfield, you piece of shit," she shrieks as she hits the top landing and sees her clothing spread out over the floor. I actually snicker to myself as I push up out of my chair. I can't help it, but it's funny to me that we're behaving like petulant children, and for some weird reason...I'm kind of relishing it. Maybe it's the catharsis I needed that I never got once Eden left.
She's utterly quiet as I trudge up the stairs, and I'm surprised she's not still cursing me. I step over the piles of her clothing, bending over to pick up a lacy blue thong lying all by its lonesome, and rub it between my fingers as I walk into my bedroom. Figured that will really piss her off, me fondling her underwear.
Instead when I walk in, the smug smile slides right off my face and I drop her panties to the floor, completely erasing them from my mind. Anger washes through me as I watch her grab an armload of my clothes from the closet, walk over to the window she must have immediately opened as soon as she cursed at me, and dump my clothes right out the window. This unfortunately is the window of the circular room that faces the front of the house, and I imagine my clothes are scattered all over the holly bushes that border the front porch.
"What the fuck?" I yell at her, but she turns and runs back to the closet. Grabs another armload and runs them to the window. I'm so stunned into inaction I can only watch with my mouth open.
My clothes go flying out the window.
Finally, I jolt and stomp over to her. Taking her by the arm, I stop her progress as she runs back to my closet. "Are you goddamned crazy?"
She answers by elbowing me in the stomach, hard enough that I let her go as I double over. By the time I catch my breath and straighten back up, she's tossed another pile of clothes out the window.
"Son of a bitch," I yell, then look around helplessly. I should just push her ass into the closet and lock the damn door, but she's a hellion with that elbow and I'm not about to get physical with her.
My eyes catch her blue thong on the floor, and an idea strikes.
Two can play at this game.
I run out into the hall just as Eden enters my closet. I skid to a halt by the pile of her clothes and scoop up the biggest armload I can muster, which is probably three times as much as Eden's thrown at the window so far. I run back into the room just as she's backing out of the closet with three pairs of my shoes in her hands.
She stops dead in her tracks, eyes the clothes in my arms, and her mouth flattens. "Don't you even dare."
I bolt for the window. She drops the shoes and races me there, attempting to stop me.
Too fucking bad. I beat her by three seconds and toss her clothes right out.
"You asshole," she shrieks, and without a second thought, she bolts back to my closet. I jet to the hallway, intent on grabbing more of her clothes.
My legs are longer, my intent is more driven, and I beat her back to the window easily. I chuck the pile and stick my head out so I can watch her lingerie flutter to the ground.
Then my gaze goes to Clay standing there, leaning up against the passenger door of his truck, watching us. He's got one leg crossed over the other at the ankles, arms folded on his chest and a shit-eating grin on his face.
"Don't stop on my account," he hollers up at me.
Eden pushes past me to stick her head out the window. She spots Clay standing there and I turn my head to see her jaw clenched.
"Howdy, Eden," Clay says cheerfully. "Welcome back home."
She doesn't respond to him, but takes in the articles of men's and women's clothing strewn all about the bushes and driveway. With a sigh, she pulls her head in through the window, and without even looking at me, walks out of the room. I note her head is high, her shoulders stiffly held back, and her hips naturally swaying, which I'm betting is from years on the catwalk. I watch her leave the room, and with a sigh of my own, I start walking after her.
Just as I get partway down the staircase, Eden grabs her purse from the foyer table and regally walks out the door. I hear her car start up by the time I get to the door, and when I reach the porch, where Clay is waiting for me, she's halfway down the driveway.
"I take it things aren't going that great living together," Clay says.
I face him and have to restrain myself from punching that grin off his face. Instead I tell him, "We're getting drunk tonight."
"We just went out last night," he practically whines.
"For an hour," I remind him as I turn to head back into the house. "I've got some work to do. Meet you at Tilley's about six."
"Fine," Clay snaps at me, then calls out, "but don't you want to know why I came by?"
"You came by to see how Eden and I were doing living in the same space," I call back over my shoulder.
His answering laugh tells me I'm right.
Chapter 7
What the fuck is wrong with you people?
Eden
"I don't know about this," I mutter to Missy as walk into Tilley's. I'm not feeling sociable and I'm slightly sick to my stomach because I've been eating cupcakes all afternoon at her shop.
There's nothing to reason out why I went to Missy's Cupcake Gallery after I walked out of Goodnight House. I went there because I had nowhere else to go. I don't have any family here or friends here. Staying in that house with Coop was absolutely impossible and there's no hotel in Newberry.
And well...cupcakes.
I stayed there all afternoon and hung out watching Missy ba
ke and frost. For each batch she did, I got to taste test. She chattered the entire time, keeping my mind occupied while jacking me up on sugar. I learned so much more about her, including the completely sad realization that I wish I'd taken the time to know her in high school. She's got a sarcastically dry sense of humor, but an easygoing spirit that makes her easy to talk to. If she was feeling any awkwardness with me because I probably wasn't all that nice to her or was a famous, award-winning actress who'd recently been publicly humiliated, she never showed it at all. She acted like I was just a normal person. She's wonderful, and I know I've latched on to her kindness because I'm feeling low myself.
Throughout the afternoon, our conversation blessedly stayed away from the topic of Coop. I think that's because when I walked into her cupcake shop a little more than six hours ago, I snarled, "Cooper Mayfield is the biggest asshole on the face of the earth and I need a cupcake like right now."
She handed me a red velvet cupcake with cream cheese icing before the door even closed behind me.
While we didn't talk about Coop, I was fascinated to hear about her love life. She married a guy she met in college who was a douchebag from the sound of it.
When I'd asked Missy the details of why they divorced, she'd said, "After college, I quickly popped out two kids, which, according to my ex-husband, made me fatter than he'd ever hoped to have to deal with. So I left his judgmental ass and took my kids back home to Newberry, where I proceeded to lose weight and regain my self-worth. He came by sniffing around after that, but I was banging a hot-as-hell fireman by that time and wasn't interested in what he had to offer anymore."
Missy is utterly fascinating. Proud, stubborn, confident, and determined. More than anything, though, is her que sera, sera attitude that she developed thanks to a lot of tribulations she overcame. She made me wish to be like that, because if I were, I could handle things better.
Brad cheating on me.
The paparazzi stalking me.
Coop irritating the living hell out of me.
Because she saved my sanity this afternoon, I didn't hesitate to accept her offer to have dinner and drinks tonight at Tilley's. It would delay me from heading home and dealing with Coop and my panties on the front lawn. But as soon as we walk inside the bar and I recognize several people looking at me standoffishly, I have regrets and second thoughts.
"Fine," Missy says. "Turn around, run home, and deal with Coop then."
"That booth over there looks nice," I say, pointing, as I realize this is the lesser of two evils.
Missy snickers, and I follow her to the booth that sits in the corner near the alcove that leads to the restrooms. I'm self-conscious, not having had a chance to freshen up since the rampage in the master suite. I'm wearing a faded Atlanta Falcons T-shirt, a pair of white denim shorts, and ratty Chucks without laces that are the most comfortable shoes I own. I'd changed into these clothes before I left the house for lunch at the diner, feeling completely comfortable. But for dinner out tonight at Tilley's, where everyone shows up looking their best because it's the best place to hang out, party, and mingle, I look like a bum.
So my goal is to eat and get out, although frankly, I'm not hungry. Too many cupcakes.
I slide into the booth seat that faces the bathroom, putting my back to the main crowd. Tilley's has a large U-shaped bar at the back of the building, with a wooden dance floor in front of it. The perimeter houses booths, and the remaining space holds tables and chairs. The food is simple, but good...at least from what I can remember. There's usually live music on the weekends too, but it's still early yet, so there's only the sound of people talking and flatware clanging against plates as diners eat.
I give my back to the crowd because I've been uneasy with the interactions I've had so far. People look at me strange...almost as if they hate me. I can't figure out why. I'm a nice person. Was well liked when I lived here, because even though we were wealthy, I went to the same public high school as everyone else and acted like a regular person. I have to guess that perhaps people might be jealous of my success, but again, that doesn't make sense either.
One or two people, sure. But everyone who looks at me?
It just doesn't make sense.
Unless it's all in my head. Maybe I'm still feeling so beat down by what Brad did to me I feel like everyone's against me. I've never felt like this before, but I've never felt betrayed either. I suppose most people would turn to family and friends for support, but I don't have that. The most I have is a house that I have to share with my first love who can't stand me and a former classmate I didn't even recognize who probably pity-fed me cupcakes today.
"What are you going to have?" Missy asks as she grabs one of the trifold menus from the holder near the wall. "They've got a great rib-eye steak here if you eat meat."
"Totally eat meat," I say as I grab a menu too, but honest to God, I don't think I can fit anything else in my stomach. "But I think I might just go with a salad."
"Too many cupcakes," Missy guesses as she smirks at me over her menu.
"Yup," I agree with a chuckle. "Please don't let me eat like that again when I'm in your shop."
"I think it was warranted today," she tells my sympathetically. "So you've got your belly full, you can have a glass of wine or two to relax you, then go home and get a good night's sleep. Things will look better in the morning."
With a sigh and a brave smile, I put down the menu and cross my forearms on the table. "Easy for you to say. You don't know the half of what happened."
Missy tosses her menu on the table and also crosses her forearms on the table, then leans toward me with interest. "Well, I didn't want to pry today. Figured you'd tell me details when you felt ready to."
"I'm drunk on sugar," I say. "I'm ready."
"Hey, Missy," I hear from my left, and turn to see a waitress. She's looking straight at Missy with a welcoming smile. "What would you like to drink?"
"I'll take a glass of chardonnay," she says, and then motions her hand my way. "You remember Eden Goodnight, don't you, Carmen?"
I immediately recognized Carmen Bakerton as one of my classmates from high school. She was always a lush beauty with dark hair and golden brown skin, and she hasn't changed much. I smile at her brightly. "Hey, Carmen. You're looking gorgeous as ever."
I expect her to smile and graciously accept my compliment, because it was given freely and truthfully. She's stunning. Instead she just snorts and cocks an eyebrow at me. "What do you want to drink?"
"Um...um," I stammer, completely taken aback. "Same as Missy."
Carmen turns to Missy, gives her a perky smile, and says, "Be right back with your drinks and I'll take your order."
When she leaves, Missy's gaze cuts to mine and I can see she's not astonished over Carmen's rudeness and knows something I don't.
"What's going on--" I start to ask Missy, but we're interrupted by another female voice.
"I'd heard you came back to town." I turn and look up to see Ashley Barton glaring at me with her arms folded defensively over her chest. We went to high school together as well, and she's flanked on either side by two women I also graduated with: Simone Cane and Kerri Hardison. All three women look like they've just smelled shit on their shoes from the way they're looking at me.
"Hello, Ashley," I say softly, not knowing what else to say. I have no clue what's going on, and I'm rattled by the hostility from so many people.
"Of course," Ashley says snidely as she tilts her head to look at Simone, "I'm sure she's hiding out after that humiliating beatdown in the media from her ex-fiance. Talk about embarrassing."
Simone laughs raucously, as does Kerri.
Ashley then turns back to me, her eyes glittering with malice. "Seriously, Eden, you couldn't keep a man like Brad Wright interested in you. That's just pathetic."
"What the hell--" I say, now starting to get pissed.
Even Missy snaps at Ashley, "That's completely rude."
Ashley ignores both of us, leaning d
own toward me. "How do you even have the nerve to show your face in this town?"
"What?" I ask, stunned by the menace in her voice, but my attention is diverted by someone walking up behind Ashley.
Coop.
"You're a bitch, Eden," Ashley practically yells at me, her face so close to mine that I can smell alcohol. "A selfish, egotistical bitch and not one person in this town likes you. Get a clue and get out because we don't want you around."
Her words are so hateful...so impactful...I can't sit still while she hovers over me. I shoot up from the booth, causing Ashely to stumble back in surprise. I glance at Coop briefly and see his eyebrows furrowed as he looks back at me.
I then turn to Ashley. "What the fuck is wrong with you people?"
And to Simone I say, "What the hell did I ever do to deserve the treatment I've been getting?"
My glance goes to Coop, but I don't address him. I look at Missy. "Were you just pretending to be my friend?"
Missy looks at me horrified and shakes her head. "No, Eden. Not at all. I'm your--"
I hold up my hand. "Just don't."
Missy snaps her mouth shut, but she looks completely distressed. She can't be as distressed as me, though. My nose stings and my eyes water, and I don't recall feeling this hurt in a very long time. Not even when I found out that Brad was banging Lilliana.
"I don't need this shit," I mutter as I grab my purse. I put my head down so no one can see my face and push in between Ashley and Kerri.
Coop actually steps to the side to let me pass, but his hand reaches out to me.
"Let the bitch go, baby," I hear Ashley say, and Coop's hand falls away.
Which is good. I'd probably have gone apeshit on him if he'd touched me, the way I'm feeling right now. It was a punch to my gut for her to call him baby, and I can't even think of them together for some reason.
I break into a trot and run for the door.
From there I'll run to my car.
From there I'll run to Goodnight House and pack up my shit that's left in the hallway.
From there I'll run to the airport, and from there I'll run some more.
Chapter 8
Pancakes will cure anything...
Coop
I watch Eden run out the door of Tilley's and then whip around to Ashley. She's practically beaming with pride, her chest all puffed out as she winks at me.
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