Page 24 of The One Before

“I do know the writer,” I say, defensively. I cross my arms. “She didn’t tell me she had written anything about you.”

“Of course she didn’t.” He returns to the fridge and retrieves a carton of orange juice. “Bumping into you was probably planned.”

“My name wasn’t mentioned. But you… the way she wrote about you, she was all but accusing you of Celia’s murder.”

“Like I said. It’s one step above a Facebook rant. You can’t let this sort of thing get to you.”

“It’s not just the article,” I say, kicking back my chair with my feet and looking out the window. “We’ve barely been here two weeks, and it seems like all I can think about is Celia Gray. People are making comments and writing articles. There’s a memorial bench beside your sister’s restaurant. It’s like I can’t shake her.”

“What happened to Celia scarred this community. Bad things don’t happen here. It’s different than the city. It’s harder for people to let go.” He returns to his seat, leaning over the table. “We already went through all this last week.”

“I know, but I can’t just shake off what people say about you. That article was thick with innuendo.” I slam the laptop shut. “Doesn’t it make you angry?”

“At the time it would have. The only thing that makes me angry now is seeing the toll it takes on you.” He covers my hand with his. “We know the truth. All that matters is that we’re on the same page. Everyone else can eff off.”

I smile reluctantly, wishing I could adopt his self-assured mindset. Perhaps he’s more bothered than he’d like to admit, only putting on a brave face for my sake. One detail in the article still nags at me.

“What about your parents? The article said they hired an outside investigator to look into her death.”

“They did.” He leans back. “They were fed up with people saying I killed Celia. The easiest way to refute those claims was to prove there wasn’t any foul play. The investigator confirmed her death was accidental.”

“If the facts prove there was no murder, why wasn’t that enough for people to stop blaming you?”

“You’re a journalist. What’s the better headline: ‘Girl Drowns After Falling from Cliff’ or ‘Teenager Murdered by Wealthy Boyfriend’?”

Coop isn’t just brushing things off. He’s conditioned. He’s used to being placed under this speculative microscope, determined to walk past the accusations with his head held high. Innocent people shouldn’t have to live like that, making the choice between their reputation and their dignity. He wouldn’t be subjected to such treatment if we lived anywhere else.

“Coop, why did we come back here?”

“I always wanted to build a life here. I’m not going to let a few people and their opinions take that away from me.” He stands, pushing his chair under the table. “Besides, someone had to run theGazette. It’s not like Roman can do it. Regina would dry the place up just to spite my mother. I need to move past this so I can restore my family’s honor. It’s my fault it was taken away.”

Something inside me drops at the thought Coop still blames himself. That he believes this tragic incident tarnished his family name. I hate that I’ve resurrected those feelings now. We could have had a peaceful morning if it weren’t for my snooping. “I shouldn’t have even mentioned the article.”

“It’s natural for you to have questions. Just don’t let what people say get the best of you.” He gives me a hug. When he pulls away, he smiles. “We should grab lunch today. Forget about this morning and enjoy ourselves.”

“I wish I could,” I say, regretting I started the day with an interrogation. “But I’m meeting with the wedding planners.”

“Say no more,” he says, walking to the front door. “I hope you find the right person.”

I already have, I think, smiling as he walks away.

Seventeen

Helena

I’ve started drinking again. Not because I enjoy the taste, but because I’m trying to work up the nerve to follow through with my plan. I’ve let my grief lie dormant for years. I surrendered to the idea I’d exhausted all my options. That was until I saw that engagement announcement. It made me realize I still have some fight left, and I’m going to funnel it all into ensuring Cooper Douglas doesn’t get the happily ever after he’s stolen from me.

In many ways, Madison is my only hope now. Everyone else is tired of listening to my story, but Cooper’s role in all of this affects Madison as much as it does me. Taking her from him will give him a taste of what it’s like to lose the person you love. If I could only make Madison understand why I’m convinced Cooper is dangerous! His behavior in those early days spoke volumes.

After two days of unanswered phone calls, I knew something was wrong. No one had heard from my daughter. Not my ex. Not our extended family. I hoped there was a simple explanation for her absence. I found myself pulling apart every detail of her life, trying to find someone who might know her whereabouts.

I was ashamed I didn’t know more about her friends. The closest thing I had to a contacts book was her social media posts. I went through each one, messaging every person tagged in the past six months. All of them responded, but none of them had spoken to her in recent days.

I contacted the police department with limited information to give, but the most important piece was that my daughter was gone. “You don’t understand,” I pleaded with them. “She wouldn’t just take off. She’s not like that.”

“Young girls are unpredictable sometimes,” the officer told me, rambling on about some stunt his own daughter had pulled. He didn’t mention that his daughter, despite whatever wild, outrageous thing she’d done, would be home for dinner that night. She’d be sitting across from him, safe and sound. My daughter was gone and no one—her friends, parents, police—knew where she was.

“Look into the boyfriend,” I told them. “It’s Cooper… something.”

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