Page 42 of Can We Just Be Happy Now?

“Really? You guys seem great together.”

“Yeah, we are . . .” Dean sighs. I’ve never heard him vulnerable like this before.

“I’m confused,” the guy I feel the same about says. “She doesn’t want to stay together?”

“I’m not giving her the choice.”

“Is that fair?” The accusation in his tone is all too familiar.

“Maybe not. But I can’t ask her to wait for me while I figure out my shit.”

“Would she?”

“I think so. Which is why I’m not asking her. She deserves more than putting her life on hold for me. There’s so much she wants to do.” Hearing my brother talk about breaking up with his girlfriend with the same logic I had when I broke up with Cooper is so validating.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that bullshit before,” Cooper chuckles. “I got that same speech from your sister once.” Wait, do Dean and Cooper talk about me? “Hell, even knowing how it felt, I used it on her too. Do yourself a favor–If you’re really not going to let her weigh in on your breakup, at least try to avoid making her feel like her opinion doesn’t matter. She’ll only hate you for it.” Does Cooper hate me? From the first time we broke up or from the past few months? Is it too late? The thought ricochets around my mind, tearing up my heart in the process.

“Yeah, maybe it’s better that way. Maybe it’ll be easier for her,” Dean mumbles like he’s talking to himself. I almost didn’t hear him. Abandoning my soda, I press myself against the dividing wall between the kitchen and dining room.

“You want her to hate you?”

“No. I want her to love me as much as I love her.”

Cooper doesn’t respond. I wish I could see him right now. I wish I knew what he was thinking.

“God, this shit sucks.” Dean laughs under his breath.

“Tell me about it.”

“To the girls we can’t live without,” my brother says, and their glasses clink together.

“And hoping it doesn’t kill us.”

The chair scraping against the floor startles me away from where I’m eavesdropping. I turn back to the kitchen counter, picking at the last few remnants of my charcuterie board even though I’m not hungry.

Cooper silently slides in next to me, setting his dessert plate in the sink.

“Do you hate me?” I whisper, afraid of his answer.

His eyebrows scrunch, and he opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

“You do hate me, don’t you? I knew it. You got tired of waiting for me and all the resentment finally built up and now you can’t even text me back and we’re not even friends anymore and–"

“Sophie,” he cuts me off. “Take a breath.” His words are comforting, but his body language isn’t. He hasn’t taken a step toward me or wrapped me in a hug like he usually would.

“Time for presents! Get your asses in here!” Carter yells from the living room.

My attention redirects only for a moment but then it’s back on Cooper. He’s already pulling away from me to join everyone else.

My heart races as I follow a few paces behind him. I’m even more worried about presents than about the fact that I just spit a bunch of chaos at Cooper. Every year since I started high school, we do Secret Santa instead of gifts for everyone. Of course I drew Cooper’s name this year.

How do you decide on the perfect gift for the love of your life who has made it clear he wants nothing to do with you? I’ve been trying to talk to him. I need to tell him I told JT I don’t want to see him anymore. I want to make it clear I’ve forgiven him, that I want us to be together, but every text has gone unanswered and every call has gone straight to voicemail. Maybe I waited too long and he’s really done with me.

Everyone finds a spot in the living room amongst the couches, recliners and floor. As the youngest, I do my job of passing out each present to the person whose name is on the wrapping. I hesitate as I reach Cooper’s blue and white snowflake paper wrapped gift toward him, hoping for a moment between us. He glances up and takes it from me like he’s not interested at all, immediately setting it on the carpet next to him and avoiding my gaze at all costs. My heart sinks, but I continue my tasks, trying to mask the way my heart sinks with a cheery smile. Once all the gifts have homes, I spin in a circle, looking for a place to sit. Of course the only available space between the nine of us is on the floor next to Cooper.

Carter is on the other side of Cooper. He opens his gift first, and everyone takes their turn from there. I wasn’t worried about what I’d receive–everyone puts time and effort into their gifts. I’m genuinely excited by the architecture sketchbook someone got me, full of blueprint drafting paper and a new set of pens. I’m flipping through the pages and rolling the pens through my fingers and almost forget Cooper still needs to open his gift. Since I’m his Secret Santa, no one else seems interested in watching him, preoccupied with their own gifts and talking amongst each other.

I wonder if Cooper will know it’s from me as he tears the wrapping from the thin metal sheets. His eyes flicker across the sign on top, the corner of his lips twisting up in amusement. It’s a royal blue square with white writing: I doubt vodka is the answer, but it's worth a shot. He keeps his focus on his gift, moving the top sign to the side. The second is the one I’m nervous about. Not that anyone else will think twice about it–if they were paying attention–but there’s no way it won’t recall a memory for Cooper. At least that’s what I’m counting on. This sign is white with black. There’s an image of two stick people standing under a showerhead. Below them it says: Save water, shower together.

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