Page 40 of Craving Cooper

All I know is I miss her… and I don’t care how pathetic that sounds.

The sound of familiar laughter makes me glance over toward Meredith’s stall again. She’s not standing by Zeke Hooper anymore, but is talking to a woman who seems to be admiring her paintings… more fool her. Their conversation is animated and littered with laughter on both sides, and as I watch them, I shake my head.

I can’t remember ever feeling lost without Meredith. I don’t remember missing her, either.

In fact, I can’t remember feeling anything, except relieved when I knew it was over between us, and I turn, leaving Meredith behind as I stroll away, wondering what I ever saw in her.

Even at the beginning, I remember questioning my judgment. I remember Brady questioning it too… more than once. The thing was, I enjoyed having sex on tap every weekend, without fail, without questions, and without having to go out of my way to find it. What I didn’t appreciate was that, right from the start, all that sex was just masking the cracks… the biggest one of all being Meredith’s temper.

Maybe the red hair should have alerted me to that, but it didn’t. I was too busy making the most of her other attributes, and even though she proved herself to be fiery, she always made it up to me… in spectacular fashion. And I was always shallow enough to let her.

I guess that goes to show I’m as much to blame as anyone.

I’ll admit that.

Just like I’ll admit the other fairly obvious reason I should have steered away from her and her titian-colored tresses.

Which is that I’ve always preferred blondes.

Ever since my first kiss with Georgia Wade, back in high school.

Man… she was hot. Her folks left town a few months after that first kiss, and although I was sorry to see her go, I started seeing Aspen Clarke later that summer. We spent several months together before boredom set in, and after her, I worked my way through a series of blondes, in various shades, each of them more fun than the last.

That was until I met Fallon Yates. I was in my final year at college by then and thought I knew everything there was to know about women… and sex. Fallon had a divine ass, and wasted no time in showing me how wrong I was, and that I had so much more to explore. Since then, I’ve taken the chance, whenever it’s presented itself… whenever the woman concerned has been willing.

Meredith wasn’t. But I don’t think it was her attitude to my sexual tastes, or her red hair that were the real problem. When it came down to it, she wasn’t right for me, just like Greta said. Brady’s been telling me the same thing almost since the moment I met her, and they can’t both be wrong. That said, I wasn’t right for her, either… so it’s best forgotten.

I glance up, spotting Brady. He’s standing close to the chili bar. We’ve never had one at the festival before, but judging by the number of people standing in line, I’d say it’s going well. I’m not sure whether Brady’s there to control the crowd, or because he’s enjoying the smell of the food, which I have to say, is incredible.

He’s supposed to be here on duty, but he’s talking to Laurel and holding Addy’s hand, which just goes to show that duty comes in many forms. Staring at them, I feel that same stirring deep inside me, just like I felt when I watched Ryan cradling his baby son. I know what it is now. It’s jealousy… not like I felt when I imagined Mallory in the arms of another man, but it’s jealousy, nonetheless.

That strikes me as strange. I’ve never craved the family set-up that Brady, Ryan and Walker have… or that Nate will have soon enough. Children have never interested me, any more than settling down. And yet, I feel jealous of my best friend for having it all.

I wander over to them, struggling to raise any enthusiasm for staying here. That’s partly because I can’t make sense of my thoughts and feelings, and could probably use some time alone to work it all out, but it’s also because I really miss Mallory. Even so, I can’t let Brady see I’m out of sorts. He knows me too well, and he’ll have too many questions… none of which I’ll be able to answer.

“How are you?” I say to Laurel the moment I get to them. It seems like a good idea to keep the focus away from me… and I am genuinely interested. She could barely move the last time I saw her, and even if Mallory explained that Laurel seemed better when she saw her yesterday, it can’t hurt to hear it for myself.

“Not too bad,” she says with a smile. “Providing I don’t do too much.”

“Which means I’m not letting her do anything at all,” Brady says, putting his arm around her.

I wonder, yet again, whether I should be with Mallory, taking care of her, like Brady’s clearly taking care of Laurel, and I suddenly remember what Ryan said about doing whatever it takes to look after the women we love. Does this tugging inside me – this need I have to be with her, and to have it all – does it mean I’m in love with her? Is it that simple? Did Ryan know? Did he guess? And if he did… how?

I don’t know about Brady having too many questions. My head feels full of them. Too full.

“I just saw Peony,” I say, desperate to appear as normal as possible, despite the turmoil going on inside me. “She was gonna call you.”

“She did. We’re gonna meet up later in the week to discuss the wedding. Hopefully I’ll be feeling better by then.”

“I’m sure you will.”

“Where’s Mallory?” Laurel says, catching me by surprise.

“M—Mallory?”

“Yes. I thought she was coming with you today.”

“Oh?” Brady shifts forward slightly, looking down at her. “What’s this?”

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