Page 32 of Broken Heart

Was there more happening here for me than just this secret scheme to fool Simon and Maria? I wondered what he would have said if I asked him that question.

Of course, I didn’t ask, but the conversation did take a turn. I was surprised it was me who steered it in a new direction.

“Favorite childhood memory?” I asked.

I had expected Cooper would need to take a moment to consider his answer to that, since he’d likely have a slew of memories to sift through.

I was wrong, because he didn’t hesitate to share, “It’s a tie between the Christmas holidays and summer breaks.”

“Was there some specific incident that put those two in the top spot?” I pressed, my eyes widening in surprise.

Cooper shook his head with a laugh, reaching his hand out and resting it on my leg just above my knee.

My eyes dropped to it briefly, noting the feel of his rough, calloused palm on my skin. It felt better than I had imagined.

I lifted my gaze back to his face when he removed his hand after offering a gentle squeeze and answered, “No. I think it’s simply the memories I have in general of those times. I don’t remember exactly what happened each year. It’s not like I can recall any specific gift I got for Christmas or what year I received it. But I remember the traditions we had at Christmas and during our summer breaks. Everything from decorating the house—my mom goes over the top with nutcrackers every year—to the food we had or the excitement we’d feel on Christmas morning. In the summer, we’d have an entire week when my brothers and sisters and I would stay with our grandparents. My grandparents would plan a whole week of different activities at their house. I just remember having a lot of fun.”

That was the best answer he could have given me. Because even though I couldn’t give him the same response, I’d found another thing we had in common.

Our love for our families.

Cooper’s favorite memories weren’t about things he received or trophies he won. Both memories involved the time he spent with his family.

“And here I thought we were going to struggle to find anything we had in common,” I murmured.

He tipped his head to the side and eyed me curiously. I could hear a bit of the hesitation in his tone when he asked, “What makes you say that? What is your favorite childhood memory?”

I offered a reassuring smile, reaching out to rest my hand on Cooper’s arm. I didn’t want him to think I was going to break down into tears over this. “Obviously, I didn’t get nearly as much time with my parents as I would have liked, but the time I had with them was magical. Like you, I don’t remember every detail of all that we did together, but when I do think about them, I remember always feeling happy. The moments that stand out for me are these snippets of time together. We took a trip to the beach every summer, and I remember my parents taking turns to read with me every night.”

Cooper covered my hand with his, his fingers stroking over the skin there gently. “I can’t begin to imagine how it must feel not to have your family any longer, but I love that even with losing them at such a young age, you still have some lasting memories with them.”

Okay.

So, I hadn’t intended to cry.

But Cooper was being so sweet, it was difficult not to get emotional. Tears welled in my eyes, and just as one escaped, he reached out and brushed it away with the pad of his thumb. His touch was tender, and the look on his face was apologetic.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said softly, his hand dropping to my leg once again.

Shaking my head slightly, I smiled at him and wiped at my eyes. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I brought up the question, and I’m happy I shared with you. I just...” I trailed off as I shrugged. “I just miss them and wonder what life would be like if I had family with me again. I'll be okay, though.”

A wave of determination seemed to flicker over Cooper’s face. I couldn’t describe it, but I could feel something strong emanating from him.

Unsure I was prepared to hear whatever it was, I chose not to acknowledge it, and fortunately, Cooper jerked his head to the shore and said, “I’m having a great time with you, but it’s getting late, and I know you have to get to work. Should we call it a day?”

Disappointment washed over me. I’d had such a great time, too, and I would have loved nothing more than to have another hour or two with him. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

Cooper began maneuvering the boat in that direction and asked, “So, what do you think? Do we know enough now to be convincing?”

“I think so. Don’t you?”

He dipped his chin. “I feel much more prepared for it now than I did before this date.”

There was that word I’d been trying to avoid—date. Maybe I’d come into this with intentions to keep it strictly an agreement or arrangement between us, but now that I’d learned all I had about Cooper and had at least some admission from him that he wasn’t viewing this in the same way that I’d been trying to, perhaps it was okay to allow myself not to be so rigid about it.

Would it be so wrong to find a sliver of happiness?

Cooper and I made it back to the shore, got off the boat, and walked back to the parking lot together.