Page 64 of The One Before

Coop is very much the same person. Has been for the past two days. Nothing feels different, and yet everything has changed. At least I don’t feel like I’m in immediate danger. We never discuss Laura or Celia. We don’t talk about the wedding either. I think we’re both waiting on the other shoe to drop, neither of us knowing what that means.

“Are you okay with having my family over for dinner on Monday?” he asks.

I’m sitting away from him on the couch, flipping through a magazine. The news is on the television, but neither of us is watching.

“Sure.” This is the first normal exchange we’ve had since the weekend. It’s the first sign that we’re going back to normal.

He’s pleased with my answer because he smiles. “Regina wants to know all about her dress.”

“She’ll have to try it on. Surely your mother knows someone who could do speedy alterations.”

He smiles again, like he’s unwrapped a present. This is the first signal I’ve given him that the wedding is still on. “What about the other decisions? You know, the ones you’d thought were made by… Helena.”

Hearing her name hurts. I don’t show it though. I flip the page of my magazine. “Your mom is arranging the last-minute details. She’s the one with the connections. I trust her judgment.”

“Good to hear.” He stands and walks into the kitchen. “Would you like a glass of wine?”

“Sure.”

He comes back with two glasses, placing mine on the coffee table.

“By the way, I stopped by the post office and rented a P.O. Box. I don’t want to run the risk of Helena sending anything to our house. I’ve gone through our phone records and blocked her number from both our phones, too.” He takes a sip. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t bother you again.”

For the first time during our conversation, I look up. I hadn’t expected him to be this proactive, but it makes sense really. He trusts me, but only so much. “Good,” I say, reaching for my wine glass.

Coop doesn’t know Helena has a different number, and that it’s written on a piece of paper I’ve hidden in the desk drawer.

He sits beside me, rubbing his hand through my hair. “I love you so much.”

I look at him, and don’t flinch when he leans in for a kiss.

The next morning, Coop leaves for work. I get my cell phone and use it to call Helena. I can’t tell her everything I know. Helena very much runs on emotion, and, in her position, I can’t blame her. My emotions are certainly involved, but I’ve tried to remain practical. I must, in order to protect myself and everyone else involved.

She answers after the first ring. “Madison?” she barks into the phone.

“Yes, it’s me.”

“Are you okay?” She sounds desperate. Scared.

“I need you to do something for me.”

“Have you talked to Cooper? What did he say—”

“Helena, please. Just listen to me.” I give her clear instructions, all the while knowing she has no reason to follow through with what I say. She has no reason to trust me. I’m struggling to even trust myself. To know the difference between what is wrong and right.

“I can do that.” The connection turns fuzzy, likes she’s moving around. “But why?”

“I can’t talk long. Just do what I say.”

“Then tell me why!” She’s frustrated. It’s been almost a week since our last conversation, enough to test anyone’s patience. “I’ve poured my heart out to you—”

“Just trust me. Please.” I take a deep breath. It’s hard talking to this woman, hearing her pain. If she’ll only do what I ask, life can return to its new normal. “And don’t call this number again.”

I hang up, and for what feels like the hundredth time this week, I have a good, long cry.

Fifty

Helena

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