“Everything okay?” he asks, walking over to us. He winds his arm around my waist and I feel him pull me closer to him, away from Cooper.
“Yes,” I say, trying to will myself to calm down. “Yes, everything’s fine.”
“Cooper,” Daniel says, extending his free hand. “Good to see you, man.”
Cooper smiles, giving my fiancé a firm handshake in response.
“I haven’t had a chance to thank you, by the way. For all your help.”
I look at Daniel and I feel my forehead scrunch.
“Help with what?” I ask.
“Help with this,” Daniel smiles. “The party. He didn’t tell you?”
I look back at my brother, my white-hot words to him flashing across my mind. I feel my heart sink.
“No,” I say, still looking at Cooper. “He didn’t tell me.”
“Oh, yeah,” Daniel says. “This guy’s a lifesaver. Couldn’t have pulled it off without him.”
“It was nothing,” Cooper says, looking at his feet. “Happy to help.”
“No, it wasn’t nothing,” Daniel says. “He got here early, steamed all the crawfish. He was toiling over that thing for hours, seasoning them just right.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I ask.
Cooper shrugs, embarrassed. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Anyway, we should get back in there,” Daniel says, pulling me toward the door. “There are a few people here that I’d like Chloe to meet.”
“Five minutes,” I say, planting my feet beneath me. I can’t leave my brother on these terms, and I can’t apologize in front of Daniel without revealing the conversation we were having just before he walked outside. “I’ll meet you in there.”
Daniel looks at me, then back at Cooper. It seems like he’s going to object for a minute, his lips parting gently, but instead, he just smiles again, squeezing my shoulder.
“Sounds good,” he says, giving my brother one last salute. “Five minutes.”
The door slides shut and I wait until Daniel is out of sight before turning back around, facing my brother.
“Cooper,” I say at last, my shoulders sinking. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“It’s fine,” he says. “Honestly.”
“No, it’s not fine,” I say. “You should have said something. Here I am, being such a bitch, calling you selfish—”
“It’s fine,” he says again, pushing himself up from the railing and walking toward me, closing the distance between us. Enveloping me in a hug. “I’d do anything for you, Chloe. You know that. You’re my baby sister.”
I sigh and snake my arms around him, too, letting my guilt and my anger melt away. This is our dance, Cooper’s and mine. We disagree, we shout, we argue. We don’t speak to each other for months on end, but when we finally do, it’s like we’re kids again, running through the sprinklers barefoot in the backyard, building forts out of moving boxes in the basement, talking for hours on end without even noticing the people around us evaporating into thin air. Sometimes, I think I blame Cooper for making me remember myself—who I am, who our parents are. His mere existence is a reminder that the image I project out into the world isn’t actually real, but carefully crafted. That I’m one small stumble away from shattering into a million pieces, revealing who I really am.
It’s a complicated relationship, but we’re family. We’re the only family we’ve got.
“I love you,” I say, squeezing harder. “I can tell you’re trying.”
“I am trying,” Cooper says. “I’m just protective.”
“I know.”
“I want the best for you.”
“I know.”
“I guess I’m just used to being the man in your life, you know? The one that looks after you. And now that’s going to be someone else. It’s hard to let go.”
I smile, squeezing my eyes shut before a tear can escape. “Oh, so you do have a heart?”
“C’mon, Chlo,” he whispers. “I’m being serious.”
“I know,” I say again. “I know you are. I’ll be okay.”
We stand there for a while in silence, hugging, the party that came to see me seemingly oblivious to the fact that I have vanished for God-knows-how-long. Holding my brother in my arms, I think back again to the phone call I received earlier—Aaron Jansen. The New York Times.