Page 111 of The Most Perfect Wrong

COOPER

I pull up to Mom and Steve’s sprawling Highland Park mansion—a seven-thousand-square-foot estate on four pristine acres, just minutes from Lake Michigan. It’s beautiful, the kind of house that could be in a magazine, but all I feel as I sit idling in the driveway is dread. This conversation is going to suck.

Steve’s my stepdad. He’s wealthy, treats my mom well, and has been around since I was eighteen. But we’re not close. Same with my mom. We don’t fight anymore, but I avoid her as much as possible. I’m not a great daughter, no matter what my dad says about me living here to “be close to her.” The truth is, Chicago isn’t about her—it’s about me feeling stuck. Trapped with Brad for the past five years.

I haven’t been here since Thanksgiving, and even then, I hardly talked to anyone. My mom calls every week, and I’ve answered exactly once.

I sigh, gripping the steering wheel.I’m such an asshole.

I know I harbor resentment toward my mom, which is messed up when I think about it. I’m closer to my dad—the one who cheated, lied, and broke our family. But my mom? I blame her for putting up with his shit. For not setting the bar higher—for not showing me and my sister what we should want in a relationship. I’ve held on to that blame for so long, but maybe it’s time to let some of it go.

What am I even going to say?“Hey, mom, sorry I haven’t talked to you in over a month. Can I live here for a few weeks?”

I groan, rubbing my forehead in frustration, then turn off the car and head up the long driveway to the porch.

God, I don’t even know if she’s home. It’s Thursday, and Ryan told me to take the day off or work from home, so here I am.

I knock, my stomach twisting with unease. A few moments later, her smiling face appears in the doorway. “Hey, Coop. What are you doing here?”

“Hi, Mom.”

She pulls me into a hug with so much vigor that my instinct is to pull away—it’s too much right now.

“Ah, what a pleasant surprise.” She steps back, studying me. “Is everything okay? I haven’t heard from you in weeks… This is so unlike you.”

I force a half-smile. “Yeah, Mom. I’m fine. Just wanted to talk, if that’s okay?”

Her brows knit with concern. “Of course, sweetie. Come on in.”

I follow her into the kitchen, spacious enough to make my apartment look like a closet—well, what used to be my apartment.

“Is Steve here?” I ask, grasping for anything to fill the silence.

“No, he’s in Toronto for work. He’ll be back tomorrow. Do you want something to drink? Sparkling water? Wine?” she offers, like I’m some guest from out of town. If we were close, she wouldn’t need to ask. I’d have helped myself, walked in without knocking—moved around this kitchen like it was my own. But I honestly don’t even know which cupboard holds the glasses; there are dozens of them.

“Sure,” I say hesitantly. “I’ll take a sparkling water.” Because, Jesus, who wants wine at ten in the morning?

She grabs a Pellegrino from the fridge and gestures toward the massive kitchen table—a setup fit for a family of twelve, illuminated by an elaborate chandelier. “Take a seat, honey. Make yourself at home.”

We both sit, me on one side, her on the other. I grip the water bottle, the condensation already wetting my hands. My gaze settles on the bubbles as they rise and pop, my mind drifting to last night. Brad’s threats. His cruel words. I swallow the lump in my throat and try to refocus.

“What’s going on, Cooper? You never visit unless you have to.” Her voice is soft, gentle—motherly—full of concern. I truly don’t know why she hasn’t written me off. I would’ve a long time ago.

I stare at the table, afraid she’ll see right through me. Even though we’re distant, she still has that motherly intuition everyone talks about.

My eyes well up.

Shit.

“Coop, honey.” Her hand reaches across the table, covering mine. “What is it?”

I force myself to meet her gaze, and the dam breaks. Tears spill over before I can stop them, and a sob rips from my chest. My hands fly to my face, but it’s too late. My mom rushes to my side.

Dammit.

She pulls me into her arms, rocking gently like I’m a child again. “Shh,” she soothes, her voice a soft echo in the dining room.

Guttural sobs wrack my body as she rubs my back.

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