Page 59 of The One Before

When I wake, it takes me a few minutes to recalibrate. Everything is different. My hotel room is white and cold and superficial. The bedside clock reads 5:21 a.m. I guess that’s what I get for crashing as early as I did. It takes mere seconds for the past two days to come flooding back. Helena and Coop. My conversation with Beth. I’m as unsure after a hard sleep as I was before.

Coop has sent several text messages during the night. He left a voicemail around three o’clock.

“Madison,” his voice starts, slow and tired. “It’s me. Again. I just want to make sure you’re okay. I understand you need space right now. I just… just…” There’s a pause and I can’t tell what he’s doing. The slight slur in his voice makes me think he’s shared one too many with Roman, or maybe he drank by himself. “I want you to know how much I love you. I hope you believe I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. I wish I could go back to the beginning of our relationship and tell you everything. Anything I held back was only because I didn’t want to lose you. I still don’t want to lose you. Come home. Please. And we can talk.”

He didn’t send any messages after that. It wouldn’t be too difficult for him to find out where I am. In the rush of everything, I didn’t take the time to disable the location app on my phone. He could track my credit cards to find out which hotel I’m in. Knowing all this, I take comfort in the fact he’s giving me space. He’s allowing me time to process. He knows that’s what I need.

Even in these moments of anger, I miss him. I miss Coop. More than a day has lapsed since my conversation with Helena. Despite everything she said, as convincing as she sounded, she wasn’t able to erase the love I have for him. As Beth pointed out, Helena sees a skewed side of Coop. I see all of him, and I know he’s good.

I stand and stretch. There’s no chance of going back to sleep. It’s like my body gave me rest, then provided this placid window of time where I can do nothing but be alone and think. I pull back the curtains from the window. Knoxville is dark except for sporadic glimpses of light in scattered buildings. The view certainly isn’t like the city, but it’s not Whisper Falls either.

I fear my overall anxiety about our new location has impacted my decisions. I’d never imagined living in a town so small, in a place where everyone knows each other’s secrets. I wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for Coop, and sometimes I resent him for that. I wanted to be Madison Sharpe, a writer and key player in my own life, not a supporting role in someone else’s. I wanted to be more than Mrs. Cooper Douglas. It’s easy for me to blame him for my change in pace, but my own faults led me to where I am today. My ambitions pushed me too far, and now I’m mourning both the person I was and the person I lost the chance to become.

How can I fault Coop for what’s happened in his past when I’ve made bad choices myself? The way I fumbled the ‘Chrissy’ situation didn’t only halt my career; it had the potential to discredit other women. Real victims whose lives could have been ruined at the hands of an over-zealous journalist. Thankfully, that didn’t happen, and Bernard Wright received punishment for his crimes. But what if he hadn’t? I’m not sure I’d be able to live with the guilt. My brush with scandal changed my outlook. It’s not fair Coop lost both Celia and Laura in equally mysterious ways. Likewise, those losses have made him the man he is, the man I fell in love with. He’s guarded, with good reason.

The only grudge I can hold against Coop is that he didn’t tell me about Laura sooner, and he withheld key details about Celia, too. He lied to me, in his own way. After having a small taste of what his upbringing in Whisper must have been like and seeing the lengths women like Helena would take to punish him, I can’t say I blame him. I understand why he keeps me and everyone else at a distance. When we uncovered Helena’s deception, his first reaction was angerforme. He was mad at himself for having dragged me into his past. He relinquished his own pride and ego years ago. My happiness is his main concern.

The hours tick by. I shower and change clothes. As I’m eating the hotel’s in-room offering of scrambled eggs and toast, I google wedding boutiques in the area. While I’m in Knoxville, I might as well shop for a bridesmaid gown. When I check out of the hotel, I plug coordinates into my GPS for a shop called Chiffon and Champagne. I arrive just as they open and tell the woman at the register I’d like to see bridesmaid gowns.

“How long until the wedding?” she asks. She has platinum curls and red lips.

“About nine weeks,” I say, pushing my sunglasses on top of my head.

“Oh, heavens. That limits our selection.” She’s probably afraid her commission will be cut if there’s not something I like.

“As long as it’s white and available, I’m easy to please,” I reassure her.

She pulls out four or five dresses and hangs them on a rack. “Will someone be joining us for a fitting?”

“No, but I’ve got her measurements. I’ll pick something and be on my way.”

“I wish every bride was this easy to please,” she says, fluffing the skirt of her first selection.

I choose the third dress. It’s elegant, but not too bridal. It’s a different style from my dress entirely. The fabric is loose and flowy with a sheer overlay covering the neckline. It will look gorgeous on Regina with her pale skin and dark hair; her slim figure could pull off anything.

I fill out the paperwork and follow the saleswoman to the counter. As this particular style is discontinued, she allows me to take the dress home today.

“Anything else we can do for you?” she asks.

“I’ve got everything I need.”

I mean that. I’m back on track.

It’s dark when I arrive home. The sun sets about twenty minutes earlier every night. Part of me expected to arrive to a full house. I thought Coop might recruit Regina and Roman to sit with him until I returned. Instead, it’s quiet. Coop is standing by the fireplace. He doesn’t budge, even when he hears me walk inside.

“I’m home,” I say, placing my bag on the floor. I stand there, waiting for him to turn.

“Where did you go?” he asks, putting his drink on the hearth.

“Knoxville.” I walk toward him, slowly. This is our first big argument, and the wounds are fresh. “I just needed space.”

“What took you so long getting back?” he asks. His face is red. I can tell he’s been crying since before I arrived. My absence took more of a toll than I realized.

“I decided to make use of my trip by going shopping. I bought Regina a dress for the wedding.”

When he hears this, his solemn mood drops. He hugs me so hard my feet almost leave the ground. He’d been waiting for reassurance. I’m still with him. Not ever leaving his side again. I begin to cry, thinking about how I almost let mindless gossip tear us apart. How I almost gave this up for a history I’ll probably never truly understand. And I don’t need to understand it to love him with every ounce of my being.

“I’m sorry,” he says, pulling my hand to make me sit on the sofa. “You’re so good to me, and I’ve not done right by you.”

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