Page 47 of Midnight Valentine
“And what if I’m not satisfied with him? He’s not exactly the easiest person to be around, Coop.”
Coop acknowledges that with a nod, then pierces me with a look. “Theo’s not easy, I admit, but he’s the best man I’ve ever known. He’s honest, and honorable, and the kind of loyal that doesn’t ever break. I’d trust him with my life. With my kids’ lives. How many people do you know that you can say that about?”
“Do dead people count?”
Coop doesn’t bat an eye at my odd question, which I spoke without forethought, Cass’s name leaping to my tongue at the mention of honor, loyalty, and trust. My husband was a person who was good to the marrow of his bones, but he was also as fearless as a lion, especially when it came to protecting someone he loved.
He was that thing women crave at our most elemental core, a thing made all the more beautiful by its rarity: a real man.
Coop glances at my wedding ring, then looks back into my eyes. “Sure,” he says softly. “Death doesn’t end a relationship. Only a life.”
I press my hand to my heart, because goddamn. That hurt. “Unfair, Coop,” I sa
y hoarsely. “You’re hitting me with this heavy existential shit before I’ve even had my coffee!”
Coop’s smile is as gentle as his gaze. “I can’t take credit for that particular piece of existential shit. I read it in a book about some guy named Morrie, stuck with me.” He watches me try to blink away the water pooling in my eyes. “Knew you were a softie under that tough-chick act. But I promise I won’t tell anyone. Your secret’s safe with me, marshmallow.”
“Shut up. And it better be. Now get to work.” I turn and stride away, listening to Coop’s amused chuckle as I go.
I nod at several workers as I pass through the house on my way into the kitchen. I don’t see Theo, which is fine, because without a hefty dose of caffeine, my head won’t be clear enough to deal with whatever mood change he might spring on me.
The first thing my gaze lands on when I enter the kitchen is the coffeemaker—which is when I remember the power’s off.
I stop, groan, and slap a hand on my forehead. Then I notice what’s on the island and stop groaning.
Next to a sheaf of stapled papers sits a large to-go cup, the kind with the plastic lid and the paper sleeve. A curl of steam rises from the hole in the lid.
Drawn toward it as if magnetized, I cross to the island, pick up the cup, and sniff. The delicious, nutty scent of strong coffee greets my nostrils, making my mouth water. I crack open the lid and grin in delight when I see that black gold.
If this was meant for anyone else, they’re out of luck. I’m claiming this sucker. I take a sip, closing my eyes in ecstasy when the coffee hits my tongue. It’s exactly how I like it: unsweetened and scalding hot.
Sighing in pleasure, I open my eyes…and find Theo standing in the kitchen doorway.
“Oh. Hi.” I feel flustered and guilty, as if he caught me masturbating.
Theo points at the cup in my hand, then gives me an inquisitive thumbs-up.
“Yes, it’s perfect. Did you do this?”
He nods.
“Thank you. I can’t function without coffee in the morning.”
He nods again. I know it’s only my imagination that thinks he’s saying I know, but now I’m even more flustered. Get your shit together, Megan. Focus.
I straighten my shoulders and put on my boss-lady face. “So this is the contract, I take it?” I point at the paperwork, and he gives me a thumbs-up. “Okay. I’ll look it over right now and let you know if I have any questions.”
Another incline of his head, this one looking regal. He’s calmer than I’ve ever seen him. His entire aspect is lighter, as if the thunderclouds that permanently follow him around have opened to let rays of sunlight shine through.
He looks at home standing there in the doorway to my kitchen. At home and at peace.
Why that should make me feel so good, I don’t know. But some part of me, a small, dark corner of my heart, just exhaled the breath it’s been holding since I met him.
“Theo Valentine,” I say quietly, holding his warm gaze. “Welcome to my home. I’m trusting you with the most important thing in my life. Don’t screw it up.”
His mouth bursts into a huge, glowing grin, devastating in its beauty. His entire face is transformed, as if there’s another man hiding beneath that mask of scowls he normally wears, waiting to break free.
He swaggers over, pulls a pen from his back pocket, flips over the contract, and scrawls onto it.
