The Shippers(14)

I guess, in hindsight: not a bad idea.

My hand looked weirdly naked now.

It was fine, I told myself. I’d get used to it.

But I felt a wave of sadness anyway.

What was wrong with me—seriously? Why did I always have to be my own worst enemy? I was glaring down at my hand like it might answer me when Cooper jogged away for a minute, and then jogged back, stopping square in front of me.

He moved his fist into my field of vision—and then opened it.

He’d grabbed one of the sea glass rings. Pale aqua and sterling silver.

I looked up.

“For you,” Cooper said. “This one’s going to fit better, I think.”

And when he slipped it onto my finger, it turned out he was right.



* * *



THE LADIES’ ROOM at Murdochs was closed to the public for a deep clean, so even after we left, I was still ensnared in that miserable gown. Back on the Seawall, I scanned for another establishment that might have a bathroom where I could change.

“Maybe the tattoo parlor?” I considered out loud.

But Cooper shook his head. “I have a faster idea,” he said.

He led me down the steps to the beach, and we set down all our bags, rucksack included. Then Cooper held up the massive beach towels we’d bought, one in front of me and one behind, and clamped the corners together with his hands.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“It’s a changing tent,” Cooper said.

“You want me to change right here?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“How about not getting naked on a public beach?”

“You want out of that dress, don’t you?”

Oh, god. I did. So bad. “Fine. But you’re going to have to rip it off me.”

“Happy to oblige,” Cooper said.

Ultimately, the lace turtleneck really was the only thing holding everything up. It was lucky I was facing away from him. Because as soon as Cooper ripped the collar, the whole dress tried to slide right off.

I caught the bodice just in time, while Cooper blinked at me like he couldn’t believe what had almost happened.

“You just came so close to being totally naked.”

“Not totally naked,” I corrected. “I am wearing bridal lingerie.”

“Still,” he said, unfairly delighted. “You were one stiff wind away from watching your dress float away like a birthday balloon.”

“It’s not my dress,” I insisted again.

This time, Cooper agreed. “Not anymore.”

“Can you just hand me my stuff, please?”

He did. And then I disappeared into the towel tent. And he waited semi-patiently as I changed, saying things like, “There are so many pranks I could be pulling on you right now.”

While I changed, he listed them all—from stealing the towels to shouting “Fire!”—but he didn’t do any of them. Which surprised me a little. The Cooper I remembered would’ve been flying that wedding dress like a kite by now.

Maybe he felt sorry for me.

Or maybe—and this was hard to conceptualize—he’d grown up.

Once I was changed, and free as a seagull in my flip-flops and BEACH, PLEASE T-shirt, I wadded the dress up and walked over to a beach trash can with a dolphin painted on it. I stuffed the dress in, but it didn’t quite fit. It was so puffy, the crinoline flowed out over the top like the head on a beer.

I stepped back and put my hands on my hips, expecting to feel victorious.

“Well, that’s a satisfying sight,” Cooper said.

“Yeah,” I said, frowning.

But he read my voice. “No?”

I thought about it. Then I walked back over to the trash can, pulled the dress back out, and shook it.

“What are you doing?” Cooper said.

I brushed the dress off. Then I started folding it up.

“That thing is not coming back in my car.”

“It’s not your car. It’s a rental.”

But Cooper couldn’t fathom what I was doing.

The dress was not exactly easy to fold. It wound up in a wad. I found my pantyhose on the sand and used them to strangle it into a bundle.

“This is crazy,” Cooper said. Then he pointed at the trash can. “Put it back.”

But I shook my head. “No.”

“It’s been torturing you all day. Get rid of it.”

“No.”

At that, Cooper darted in and grabbed it out of my arms.

“Hey!” I said, chasing him. “Give it back!”

“Free yourself!” Cooper shouted as I swiped and missed, and swiped and missed.

We were running around in circles now.

“Give it back!” I kept shouting.

“Never!” he kept responding.

Finally, breathless, I stopped running.

Wary, Cooper stopped, too. “Why won’t you do this for yourself? Just get rid of it.”

“It’s her wedding dress, Cooper.”

“Were you not back there in that church? Did you not hear the vicious crap she said to you?”

I took a breath. “I just left her only son at the altar.”

“Don’t tell me you regret it,” Cooper said. “That dude was texting the whole time.”