Page 47 of Well, Actually
“What?” His face falls as he slaps a hand to his chest. “You mean none of this is for realsies? But I wroteRylie hearts Evain my diary sixty-nine times!”
I punch his shoulder. “Har-har.”
Cooper scoops up my fist and swings our arms like a couple holding hands as he leads us to his hideous PT Cruiser, the wood paneling glinting in the sun.
“I just don’t get thepointof couples therapy,” I continue as he opens my door. I look at him sideways and bump him out of the way with my hip as I climb in. I hear his chuckle through the closed door, and I grind my knuckles against my chest to calm down my rabbiting heart.
Cooper slides into the driver’s side with a move far too suave for this tragic excuse of a car, slipping on a pair of sunglasses and pushing his hair back. He turns to me, mouth lifting in a slow smirk, and I realize I was gawking. I scowl in return, digging my nails into my palms. I refuse to feel anything in the realm of turned on in a PT Cruiser.
Because I’m nosy and nervous, I pop open his glove box and rifle through it to distract myself. I’m disappointed that there’s nothing damning or embarrassing in there, just standard car paperwork and a ton of napkins. “Good god, how often do you eat at Arby’s?”
He snatches my fistful of napkins and shoves them back into the compartment before snapping it shut.
“The point is,” he says in a huff, circling back to my question, “I was a shit communicator at twenty-two. And, honestly, I’m sure I’m still pretty subpar at it. But, as you might have noticed if you weren’t so fixated on my many flaws, I’m trying to do better. Trying to encourage others to do better too.” Cooper’s honest look makes my chest tighten, and I blink away, squirming in my seat.
“Damn, dude. Way to get super vulnerable and shit. You could have just lied.”
His laugh is a rough mix of resignation and surprise, and he shakes his head. He starts the car and pulls into traffic. “I’m genuinely concerned for my therapist’s emotional well-being after you’re done with her.”
“She’s survived you, so she must be pretty resilient.”
We drive in silence for a while, and my thoughts get too loud and circular. Aida is still annoyed at me for yesterday, responding to my obsessive string of texts last night that sheunderstands why I got upset and she’s sorry things played out the way they did, but she’s having to do quite the groveling to pacify William and save our necks. A new round of layoffs is rumored to happen any day now as restructurings at Soundbites kick off, and being on the bad side of the man in charge doesn’t bode well for either of us. While I know I should be doing some groveling of my own to William, and smoothing things over with Aida, I don’t have it in me to apologize. But I also can’t stop ruminating on it all… Berating Cooper seems like the best distraction, though.
I scan the interior of his car with the hungry instinct to unearth some hidden clues about him, turn over every stone so I can finally grasp the reality of this man I had so well defined in my head but don’t seem to understand at all. I’m annoyed that his car is impeccably clean and not a pigsty I can pester him about.
“Is your therapist on Long Island or is this actually an abduction?” I ask as the drive drags on.
“Brighton Beach,” he replies with a terseness I’m not used to. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. His jaw is set with tension, knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel.
“Isn’t that a pain to get to every week?” I ask more gently than I intended. Cooper clocks it, glancing at me in surprise, then back at the road.
“I usually don’t mind it.” He flicks on his turn signal and merges to the other lane. “It lets me clear my head beforehand. Process things after.”
“But this week?” I poke, having the sinking feeling that Cooper is regretting bringing me. That he’s finally come to his senses that I’m more of an annoyance than I’m worth.He wouldn’t be the first person, or the last, to come to that conclusion.
He spares me another look, his face shifting from stress to softness. “This week I feel nervous having you with me.”
“Why?” I’m mortified at how my voice cracks.
Cooper swallows, eyes back on the road. “Because I’m supposed to be tapping into my feelings but all I can think about is that you look really good in that skirt.”
My mouth falls open while Cooper’s curls into a devilish grin. I bite my lip hard to try and fight my own traitorous smile, but when he looks at me again, it breaks free. I feel like a little kid jumping on a trampoline, pivoting midair and hoping something will catch me as I come down.
“You’re ridiculous,” I mumble, pressing my hot cheek to the window, fingers absently twisting the silky fabric of my skirt. Despite not having any sporty inclination, it’s one of my many athletic skorts—short and flippy—this one vibrantly red.
“We agreed to unconditional honesty,” he says defensively.
“Yeah, well, in the name of unconditional honesty you should probably cover your skanky forearms before we start the session.” He’s traded his tacky crewnecks for an olive-green linen shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows to accommodate the unseasonably warm fall day, the sun through the open window burnishing the fine dusting of hair along his arms.
“Jesus, Eva, put that female gaze away and stop undressing me with your eyes.” He grips his open collar like he’s clutching at pearls.
I shake my head and stare out the window, trying to collect myself. “I mean this with all the love, light, and peace in my heart: What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Today or generally speaking?” He turns in to a parking lot, a squat concrete building of medical suites lobbed in the center. I stare at the entrance, my giddy heart’s rhythm keeping up the pace but adding in an anxious squeeze, the promise of more honesty awaiting behind those doors, making me want to bolt.
“Never mind,” I say, opening the car door. “I’m sure whatever is about to happen in there will give me all the answers I need.”
“I want to preface this appointment,” Roberta, Cooper’s therapist, starts, “by saying that, considering my long-standing relationship with Rylie, I am not able to come to this conversation as someone completely impartial and without at least one side of knowledge of your history.”
