Meant to Be (Sweetbriar Cove #1)(74)

He felt an ache just imagining it. Damn. He was getting sentimental in his old age. It was just bricks and mortar, he told himself, as he locked up behind him. The next place he built better be a bachelor pad, save him from all this "what if?" whirling in his brain. Chrome and glass, made for one-and the occasional overnight guest.

But the thought of replacing Poppy with his usual parade of summer flings took the wind out of his lungs all over again.

There was no replacing a woman like her.

The sun was almost setting by the time he was done at the house, and Cooper half-expected Mackenzie to still be sitting right there on his couch if he went home, so he drove on into Sweetbriar instead. It was a quiet night at the pub, and Grayson was the only other person at the bar. He gave Cooper a nod. "Riley's out back somewhere with that waitress. I suggest you pour yourself if you want a drink this side of midnight." 

Cooper rounded the bar and selected a pale ale. It came out half foam, but what the hell. Another beer-or five-and that pickaxe in his chest might stop hurting so damn much. He took a gulp. "View's different, this side," he remarked, looking out.

Grayson studied him, his expression inscrutable. He wasn't a man of many words, but clearly had something he wanted to say. Cooper ignored him. He wasn't about to break the habit of a lifetime and spill his feelings all over the place like some sloppy drunk at last call.

"She's leaving, you know."

Cooper's head snapped up.

"Franny heard it from June, today at the store," Grayson continued. He took another sip like he hadn't just set a bombshell right down on the bar. "She has a couple of chapters left to write, but once she's done with that book of hers, she's heading straight back to New York. For good."

The axe twisted. Cooper tried not to care.

"Good for her," he muttered. "She'll be happy to get back to city life, I'd imagine. Too long in the slow lane with us."

"Uh huh."

"I mean, that was always the plan, right?" Cooper continued, clinging to his last excuse. "This was a vacation for her. Vacations end. Sweetbriar's fine for a couple of months, but what was she going to do: uproot her life move here full-time?"

"You did," Grayson countered evenly. "So did I."

"Yeah, well you have issues we're not getting into," Cooper said darkly. "Like why a man travels halfway across the world to sit in an old bookstore all day, gathering dust."

"I agree." Grayson didn't rise to the bait. "We're not getting into that."

He stayed at the bar, watching Cooper with a knowing stare, and Cooper shifted, uncomfortable. "I know what you're thinking," he snapped.

"You do?" Grayson raised an eyebrow.

"Hell, it's what you're all thinking. Mackenzie, June-the whole damn town." Cooper scowled. "You think I'm a fool to mess things up, and a coward for leaving, and a bastard for breaking her heart. Well, you can save the lectures," he added bitterly, "because believe me, I've heard them all. They've been playing non-stop in my own damn brain ever since I walked away."

There was silence. When he looked up again, Grayson was still sitting there, still watching him, still smiling that inscrutable smile that somehow was the last thing Cooper needed to see. "What?" he demanded, his voice rising. "Have you got something you want to say to me?"

"Nope," Grayson replied. "Just, I'm sorry you're hurting. I know love isn't easy to find," he added, his voice gruff.

Cooper deflated. "It wasn't love," he mumbled, taking a gulp of beer. "It was just . . . not meant to be."

Grayson finished his drink, then got down from his stool and strolled out, leaving Cooper alone with the lie still fresh in his mouth. It didn't matter if he loved her. He'd already learned that love wasn't enough. His love, at least. You could love someone as best you could, and still fall short of forever.

You really think this is your best?

Cooper pushed aside the doubts and took another drink. It was done, either way, and soon Poppy would be three hundred miles away, and it would be like she'd never existed at all.

Except for that damn pickaxe still lodged in his heart.





24





Poppy always felt like she deserved a fanfare when she finished the first draft of a book. Confetti raining from the sky, a chorus girl jumping out of a cake. Why not throw in a parade with some baton-twirling and a full brass band? She deserved it.



       
         
       
        

But this time, typing those final words was a bittersweet moment. Her series was over, her characters finally reunited. It was the end of a wonderful moment in her life-and the beginning of something new for her.