Page 43 of The Love Lie
I wonder what Em thinks now.
She should be back in Georgia. The first thing she probably did when she got home, knowing Emily, was open her computer,sift through the accounts, then promptly close it again to give herself a day to freak out.
Sam’s desperate to call her.
It goes against everything within her to know her sister is struggling and to not lend an ear or a hand. But if they talk, Emily will know something’s up. She’ll have questions Sam doesn’t want to answer and opinions she doesn’t want to face.
In less than forty-eight hours I’ll be on my flight home, Cooper will officially be in the rear view, and this whole thing will be done.
Two days.
She can wait until then.
So instead, Sam opens Excel and starts crunching numbers—net income, projected profits, the cost of goods sold at different wholesale values, some ideas for increased markup percentages, tax estimates, various salaries Emily could take and their impact, potential salaries she could pay the employees she’ll undoubtedly need, an assets-and-liabilities breakdown in case she wants to look for investors. It’s nothing new, the mere basics of a startup business, the sort of thing Sam reviews for work all the time. And yet, it feels new. It feels thrilling. It feels exhilarating in a way her job never has.
She’s polishing up the finishing touches on an email to Em when a knock sounds at the door.
“Come in,” she calls absently.
“Are you—” The door swings open and Cooper pauses, an intrigued look flitting over his features. “What’s got you so happy, Cuj?”
“Happy?” She lifts her fingers to her face, surprised by her own smile. For some reason, it leaves her feeling vulnerable, as if she’s been caught in the act—what act exactly, she’s not sure, but nonetheless, exposed. Her defenses rise. “Don’t look so shocked. I’m a delight.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
“Is it time for parasailing already?”
He nods. “I’ll wait by the door while you get ready.”
She throws on her bathing suit, cutoffs, and a loose T-shirt, then hastily twirls her auburn hair into a relatively clean topknot before sliding on her sunglasses. It’ll have to do. There’s no time for makeup, and it’s not as if she’s trying to impress Cooper anyway. She’s trying to repel him.
That’s my story and I’m sticking with it.
He must be partial to grunge, though, because he gives her an appreciative once-over as she approaches. It does not cause butterflies to swarm across her chest, deep into her belly, and down every one of her limbs until her entire body tingles. No it does not.
When they step out together, Cooper slides an arm around her shoulders. She settles naturally against him. They walk in sync, the adjustment innate. There’s no awkward pause, no hop and skip to keep up, no taking a beat to figure out his rhythm. Her body just…knows.
“So, why were you so happy back there?”
Sam groans internally. She should have known he wouldn’t drop it. “Nothing. Just work. A good project.”
“Yeah…” He squints down at her. “I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t believe me?” She pointedly raises her brow.
“Nah. Not buying it. You weren’t working.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I’ve seen the way you look when you’re working. Bored. Blank. Empty. How I imagine that guy from Greek mythology must’ve looked pushing that boulder up a hill for all eternity, just waiting for it to end.”
She snorts. “You’re so dramatic.”
“Pot, meet Kettle.”
She rolls her eyes.
“When I opened the door, you seemed focused, but in a good way. And when you looked up at me, your eyes were pure fire. I liked it, is all I’m saying. You don’t have to tell me what you were doing, but whatever it was, you should keep doing it.”
