The Shippers(24)

I almost lost my train of thought.

Those forearms were going to be a problem.

I pushed on: “And what’s with this outfit? Is that tweed?”

“It’s gabardine.”

“It looks like tweed.”

“I just flew in from London,” Cooper said, like that was an excuse.

“Well, London wants its tweed back.”

“What is your problem?”

“Look around you! This is hardly cruise wear. You’re wearing wool to the Bahamas?”

“You’re just mad because I look good.”

“Tweed vests are my kryptonite. Did you know that?”

Cooper met my eyes. “Yes.”

“Take it off,” I said.

“No.”

“You can’t just prance around here in that thing.”

Cooper looked me up and down. “If anyone’s prancing, it’s you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means don’t give me shit for looking good when you look like that.”

“I look the same as always,” I declared.

But Cooper made a face like Oh, really? and then dropped his eyes, quite deliberately, to my cantilevered chest.

In defiance, I pushed it out further.

“And don’t get me started on that miniskirt,” Cooper added.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s like they ran out of fabric and had to use a dinner napkin.”

“It’s not even a miniskirt,” I said, resting my case on semantics. “It’s shorts disguised as a miniskirt.”

Cooper tapped his chest and then nodded at my skirt. “I’ll take off this when you take off that.”

I gasped. How dare he? But I doubled down. “Men in vests is my thing.”

“Well, I’m a man. In a vest. So I guess it’s my thing, too.”

“You’re not a man,” I said, still trying to win. “You’re Cooper.”

“Sorry to shock you, but I am both.”

It did shock me, in a weird way. Cooper had never been a man before. Who even was he now? I shifted back to my original point. “This outfit is tonally inappropriate. Do you see any other members of the Downton Abbey cast in this line?”

“Stop complaining.”

“I haven’t even started, pal.”

But Cooper didn’t accept the legitimacy of my anger. He shrugged. “It’s not illegal to wear a vest,” he said. Then he added, “Or get a haircut.” He looked me over. “You got a haircut, too.”

“Yeah. I did. Before you messed it up.”

“Anyway,” Cooper said. “You were so traumatized by my beard last time—”

“Your pigeon nest,” I corrected.

“I thought I’d come back looking better.”

“Yeah, but now you look too good.”

He did look too good. I wondered what the math must be on that. Was it symmetry theory? The golden ratio? The exponential benefits of basic grooming?

There was no mathematical formula I could see that explained why Cooper’s glow-up had made him so extra handsome. He would have to remain, on this point and many others, an unsolved mystery.

“You sure are hard to please,” he said.

“I can’t relax around”—I gestured with my hands at his general vibes—“all this.” Then I squinted at him. “Didn’t you bring any T-shirts that say ‘Let’s Get Ship-Faced’?”

“I saw those guys ogling you, by the way.”

“Yeah, well. At least they didn’t mess up my hair.”

Why were we fighting, exactly? Seeing Cooper again at my failed wedding had been strangely lovely—despite the fact that we were, technically, estranged at the time. And despite my life collapsing all around me as it happened. We’d gotten along so easily—just like always. He’d been a refuge in the storm.

But today, I felt irritated with him. For not turning out to be Finn. For showing up even better looking than last time. For claiming his right to wear a vest. And maybe, deep down, for being the reason that I’d be the maid of honor at my sister’s wedding this week instead of the matron.

“Are you mad at me?” Cooper asked then.

“I’m not mad. I’m just wondering why you’re even here.”

Cooper shrugged.

“You RSVPed no to this wedding,” I reminded him, “just like you did to mine. Though a bit more politely on Ashley’s card.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Why?”

He squinted, watching to see if his words rang true. “Because I thought you might need me.”

“What?” I demanded. “Why?”

Cooper tilted his head. “You’ve had a rough few weeks.”

“Are you pitying me?”

“I’m definitely not—”

“Because I’m fine. I’m great.”

“Okay,” Cooper said, the way you acquiesce to a crazy person.

“I’m better than great, in fact. I’ve got a plan to fix my whole personality.”

“Wow,” Cooper said, like that was a tall order.