The Shippers(96)

“More like a few stitches and a tetanus booster. But ‘almost died’ also works.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

At that, Cooper opened his eyes and saw my teary face. Then he took my hand and squeezed it. Then he said, “Listen really close now, JoJo—because I need you to understand something.”

“Okay,” I said, leaning in.

Then Cooper looked straight into my eyes and said, “There is no universe where you call me for help and I don’t come running.”





Thirty-Two


ONCE WE HAD the medical all clear, the doctor let us go. Cooper’s shirt was too bloody to put back on, so the doctor offered a T-shirt from a stash in the cupboard, one that said NO CRUISE CONTROL. It was a little tight on him, to be honest—but in a good way.

He slid his suit jacket back on to dress up the T-shirt, Don Johnson style, and then stuffed the bloody tie into his pants pocket on the way out.

“Pretty sure that tie is trashed,” I said.

Cooper shrugged. “Keepsake,” he said.

We headed back toward the wedding reception to check on everybody, but I wasn’t sure that was a great idea for him medically.

“I’m fine,” Cooper said.

“Your twenty stitches say otherwise.”

The ship was still dark. Cooper and I walked along an outside deck so we’d have the moonlight to see by.

“Do you have any other secrets you’re withholding?” I asked.

“Lots,” Cooper said.

“Like?”

He thought about it. “Like I’m actually really good at mini golf.”

I gave him a look. “Of course you are.”

Cooper thought he remembered a set of side doors from the deck to the ballroom, and sure enough, as we reached them, we found they were not just unlocked but propped open.

We could see straight into the ballroom—all the guests sitting at their candlelit tables, decidedly not panicking, just chatting and waiting good-naturedly for the lights to come back on. Very different vibes from the stairwell.

Ashley would be worried about where I’d gotten off to, though. My mom and dad, too.

We should go in.

But just short of the threshold, as we were about to leave the deck and the moonlight behind, Cooper asked me a question that stopped me in my tracks.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked.

“Sure.”

“Did you ever wonder why I moved to London?”

I stopped walking.

Hey—that was my question!

“Is that a real question?”

Cooper shrugged. “Yeah.”

I couldn’t believe he was asking me this. The question I’d been chickening out from asking him since the day he showed up to ruin my wedding—and now Cooper was just casually asking it like we were making chitchat?

I tilted my head. “You’re asking me if I ever wondered why you disappeared to London without a word and never contacted me again?”

Cooper nodded, like this might be a trap.

“You’re asking if,” I continued, “when my best friend for over ten years—the person I’d spent the most time with in my life, the only person who really got me and the only person I could truly say anything to—abruptly moved to another continent without telling me and then completely ghosted me in every possible way … if I ever wondered why that happened?”

“Okay. I see your point there.”

I wasn’t sure how to continue. Should I shrug it off? Act jokey and cool? Or should I just … be honest?

In a minute, we’d step back into the ballroom and back into the current of life. But right now, here, just outside the doors, on the quiet deck in the moonlight, it felt like we were just outside of our lives somehow. Like this was a little pause we shouldn’t take for granted.

And so I took a breath, looked up at Cooper, and said, with no pretense, “I’ve been wanting to ask you what happened every day for the past four years.” Then I said, “Hence, all the texts asking you what happened.”

Cooper nodded, like Of course, and looked down.

Then I added, just to be clear: “You disappearing was the worst heartbreak of my life.”

Cooper met my eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said.

I shrugged.

“I know I owe you an explanation,” Cooper said.

I waited.

“But I keep chickening out.”

Of note: Chickening out was also my thing.

“Are you going to chicken out now?” I asked.

Cooper shook his head. “This is what I’ve been trying to talk to you about.”

“Okay, so tell me. Why did you leave like that?”

“It was because I had to end things.”

“You had to end things?”

Cooper nodded. “With you.”

With me? “But—why?”

“Because,” Cooper said, “you got engaged to Pearce.”

“So?”

“And I just … couldn’t take it. I had to stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop being in love with you.”

Oh.

Wait—what? “Were you in love with me?” I asked.

Cooper nodded. “I just told you that. In the stairwell.”