Snowed Under (Aspen Peaks #2)

13. Madeline

M aybe I should have been mad that Cooper had crashed this whole night. Maybe I should have gotten up and gone after my technical date. But I didn’t. Instead, I stayed for the rest of dinner, laughing when Cooper made jokes at Finn’s expense and discussing all things pregnancy and babies with Olive. Which was mostly her asking if newborn poop really was black and questions like you changed how many diapers a day?

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I savored the sensation of reclaiming my individuality. It felt like, just for a couple of hours, my roles of aunt, student, employee, and even daughter were vanishing before me. I was cut back to the one essential task of simply being myself. Something I had entirely forgotten how to do. It was a rare moment of solace, where the weight of expectations and responsibilities melted away, leaving behind only the pure essence of my being.

I’d stayed up late just days ago, almost crying at one a.m., because reality had hit me—I didn’t even know what my favorite color was. If I didn’t have a favorite color, then who was I? Because yeah. I liked the color pink in those potted flowers in the summer. But I liked that burnt orange eyeshadow palette in the fall. And right now, I was particularly attached to the color lavender. But none of that made just one color my favorite. So was I even a person at all? Did I possess any originality? What made me…me? I practically panted in my bed just thinking about it, taking BuzzFeed quizzes, waiting for them to tell me who I was supposed to be.

But for these fleeting hours, there was a serenity that came with being myself. Of learning myself all over again. The Madeline who was entirely untouched by the demands of school or the constraints of her mother. The Madeline who was currently loving the shade of hazel in Cooper’s eyes and the salmon-colored umbrella in her margarita.

I missed the kids, and I kind of wished they were here. Nevertheless, for once, the world beyond this table of four seemed to pause. Like it was allowing me to exist in my own space, unburdened and unbound.

I knew that the moment I stepped back into my house, the bliss of being my true self would dissipate and be replaced once again by duties that included potty trips, fourth-grade math homework, and trying to find a way to give the kids a good Christmas while on a budget that couldn’t stretch an inch. Still, despite that, I clung to the laughter and shared smiles at this table like it was my job.

It felt like all those nights in middle school where I imagined my future brace-less and non-flat-boobs self hanging out with a group of friends. Surrounded by the warmth and light of easy conversation. The thought was so nostalgic that it felt as if Will were sitting right here beside me. It felt like I was having my cup refilled. Like every bit of energy that had drained from me over the last few weeks was being replaced.

An hour later, Olive leaned against Finn’s shoulder, and he patted her leg. “We should get home. It’s late for you, baby.”

She groaned through a yawn. “I’m not even tired yet.”

He smiled at Cooper and yawned right back. “Well, I am. Come on, let’s go.” Finn helped Olive and her big belly up and came to give both of us hugs goodbye.

I squeezed Olive around the neck and whispered a quick thank-you for the invite.

“Madeline, want us to take you home?” Finn checked.

I hesitated because I knew it was still early. But the kids were asleep, and selfishly, I wanted to feel free for just a minute longer. I wanted to cling to this version of myself until the last minute.

“Uh, I’ll get an Uber.” I decided before I could change my mind. “You guys are both exhausted. Go home.”

“You sure?” Olive eyed me.

“I’ll make sure she gets there safely,” Cooper said before taking a sip of his drink.

“All right. Well, text me when you get home, okay?” Olive pointed to me as Finn guided her away. At the door, she shouted, “Don’t talk to strangers. Love you. Bye.” Finn pointed her off to his car as both of her hands moved to support her round belly.

I snorted as I watched them leave.

“They’re entertaining,” Cooper said with a chuckle, and I relaxed back in my seat.

“They are,” I agreed, and we smiled at each other in utter silence. Well, minus the sound of hockey fans around us and the clanging of pints at the bar and the AC/DC song playing in the background.

“I’m glad I came tonight.” Cooper’s smile turned smug, and I gasped a laugh, feeling the effects of that last drink a little more strongly than the other two.

“I’m sure you are. Ruining my date—”

“You said it wasn’t a date.”

“Ruining my not-date,” I corrected.

“I don’t regret it.” Cooper leaned back in his chair with that smug little smile and a Coke in his hand, looking like every woman’s nighttime fantasy.

“I don’t either. He was kind of young for me.”

“Seemed like it. Unless you want a third kid to take care of.”

I snorted. “I do not.”

“He seemed like the type to be nervous to call and order a pizza.”

“What does that even mean?”

He shrugged. “He wouldn’t stand up for you. Wouldn’t fight for Mini Coop. Not the best candidate.”

Cooper trailed his index finger up the side of his glass, wiping the condensation off on the long digit before sticking it into his mouth. I honestly thought Coca-Cola should have been paying this man for endorsements.

“You know, you never finished my game the other day.”

“Game?” I asked.

“Yeah. My you tell me what you like, and I tell you what I like game.”

A laugh, a slightly flirtatious one, bubbled out of me, and I leaned toward the table, watching that smile of his. God, he had such nice teeth. It was a shame how hard it was to find nice, white, clean teeth nowadays. A trait overshadowed by perfectly quaffed hair and nice cheekbones.

“I didn’t realize it was a game.”

He nodded, eyebrows lowering and face turning a little serious. “Well, it is, and the winner is buying these drinks.”

“How do we pick a winner?”

“I get to decide.” He shrugged.

“What?” I gasped through my chuckle. “That is totally unfair.”

“If I can’t have you as my fake fiancée or wife then I get to pick the winner.”

Well, I couldn’t argue with that. Or maybe I could have if I hadn’t ordered that last drink. I got too giggly when I drank. There weren’t enough serious points to be made on my end.

“Fair. You go first.”

He nodded. “I like—Wait. Should we set a timer?”

“What does a timer matter?”

“I’m not sure. This feels like a timer kind of moment.”

I considered it, then nodded. “Yes. Timer.”

Cooper reached into his pocket and tapped on the clock app on his phone, clicking the green stop watch button. “Okay. I like the sound that poker chips make when you put them together.” He made a clanking noise with his mouth as if to demonstrate.

“Ooh.” I cooed. “Good one. I like the smell of freshly cut grass.”

Cooper groaned. “Lame.”

“Fine. I like when I clock in at work, and it makes that little click-click sound.”

“Ugh.” He practically moaned—loud enough for the server to cut us a look. “I begged them to keep that. It’s inconvenient, but I don’t care. Give me the clicks and the hole punches.”

“Right!” I agreed, also loud enough for the server to actually stop cleaning off the space, leaving dirty plates and half-empty glasses to move a few tables over.

He continued our game. “I like tool restoration ASMR videos. Sometimes I watch them to fall asleep.”

“I like those houses at the beach that have dolphins or manatees holding their mailbox.”

“Oh my God!” Cooper sat up so fast you would have thought I’d said something so revolutionary that we needed to call NASA right away. “I have wanted one of those my whole life.”

I sighed, picturing a little ocean friend in my yard. “Imagine getting your mail from a manatee.”

“Why even take Prozac? Doctors should just prescribe those things. Ten milligrams of manatee mail a day. Boom, done.”

Despite Cooper not having a single drink tonight, only taking a sip of watered-down Coke here and there, he stayed right on my level as we kept playing. And if my words slurred a little, or I began talking a little louder, he pretended not to notice. Round after round, again and again, we found things we didn’t even realize we liked in life.

He liked when peanut butter stuck to the roof of his mouth. I said ew. I liked the smell of puppy breath. He also said ew. He enjoyed bird watching. I enjoyed people watching. He also said he liked women who agreed to be his fake fiancée for a day, to which I replied, “good luck finding one.”

After about twenty minutes, Cooper’s hands reached out to stop the timer.

“What?” I asked, taking a look at the stopwatch. “Is it over? Did I win?”

He scowled at me. “No, it’s not over. Also, I’m winning.”

“Darn.”

“You know,” Cooper said, straightening his back and lifting his chest. “I think this isn’t helping me get to know you better. I think I could take one look at you and know these.”

My head tilted. “I look like a manatee-mailbox lover?”

Cooper’s eyes trailed from my wedged boots, up my skintight flared jeans, to my hips and the cropped sweater with a hint of my skin poking out, then finally rested on my face. I don’t know what he saw when he looked at me then, but his eyes lingered on my mouth for a second with this completely darkened gaze. A shiver rippled through the base of my spine all the way up to my neck when he said, “Oh yeah.”

I wasn’t exactly sure how that was the most erotic thing I had ever heard in my life, but it was. My skin erupted in goose bumps, heart pounding. My lips pulled into my teeth, and I fought back my smile. When was the last time I’d felt this flattered? Like my true self? Certainly not with my ex, and certainly never with someone who thought a specific type of mailbox was sexy.

“So.” I cut off the train of thought that was quickly derailing into shirtless-Cooper mental pictures. “Should we stop, then?”

“No. We need to switch it. I think I can figure you out better if you say things you don’t like.”

I hummed. “Nah, I like way more stuff than I dislike.” The words were mushing together more, and suddenly, it felt like I was the one with peanut butter stuck in my mouth.

“I think you want to think that. But humor me. I’ll go first.” He took a sip of Coke and popped his fingers like he was preparing to thumb wrestle Mike Tyson. He hit reset and started the timer again. “I don’t like when people say it’s raining cats and dogs. Freaks me out.”

I nodded. Fair. “I…” I searched my brain, but everything that came up felt far too heavy for the moment. I didn’t like that my brother had left me here alone. I didn’t like my parents pretending it had never even happened. I didn’t like that my heart kept racing every time I so much as heard the word Cooper. “I…don’t like unnecessary small talk?”

Cooper gave me this look that made it known he was displeased with my answer. “No.”

“No what?”

“No, I don’t accept it.” He stuck his hand out and curled his fingers into his palm in a gimme motion. “I want a better one, or I win the whole game.”

“How is that fair?”

“That was like the golden snitch of this game. You pull the lame card, and I instantly win. Try again. I want something so controversial that if you posted it on Reddit, half the people would say ‘same’ and the other half would be enraged.”

“Ugh, fine.” I considered it for a moment, and honestly, what did I not like? It wasn’t that I was this ball of ignorant sunshine who thought the world was rainbows and lollipops, but I certainly didn’t just sit around all day and think huh, here are fifty things I do not like on this earth.

So I pulled the first one that came to my mind, an incident I’d experienced that morning.

“I don’t like when fast food drive-thrus have two lines and merge into one so you have to awkwardly see if you can go next or if they should.”

“It really shows the flaws of our society. I don’t like the feeling of cotton balls.”

“Cotton…balls?” My amusement was easy to hide in normal circumstances, but when I was three fancy-named pink-umbrella’d drinks in, things seemed to only become funnier.

“Yes, Madeline. Cotton balls.” His lip quivered like he found it kind of funny too, but he couldn’t let me know. “Is that a problem?”

I shook my head and mentally zipped my lips together to keep from laughing. “No problem.”

We went through a few more rounds. He didn’t like the feeling of sand on the beach. I didn’t like hiking—the view was never worth the death climb for me. He didn’t like books in third-person point of view. I didn’t like movies with incredibly predictable plots. So the list went on, as did the drinks, until my stomach felt like a wound-up knot of coconut rum and bacon cheese fries. Or was it tequila that they put in these?

I swayed back and forth in my seat, enjoying how much it felt like I was on a boat swaying out in the sea with a slew of mermaids and hot pirates on board. I wasn’t drunk. I mean, it didn’t feel like I was. But there was definitely a gentle rocking in my head. And I had an awful hankering for a large Whopper. But I still felt like I had my senses. Enough of my senses to hear Cooper say that he currently had a hatred toward people who pretended like going to dog shows made them fancier than the rest of us.

I closed my eyes as he spoke and continued to bob along the waves in my head. Maybe it was his cologne wafting my way, the notes of marine mist mixed with kelp and amber wood. A cozy little pirate.

“All right.” Cooper’s hand tapped my knee. The one that was occasionally hitting his chair while I swiveled my seat back and forth. “I think we should head out.” My eyes opened to see him grabbing his keys off the table and shaking them in his long fingers. “Let me drive you home.”

I shook my head a little too quickly and then slowed it down. “I can get an Uber.”

I just needed to download the app, but my phone wouldn’t freaking unlock when I knew the password was right. Oh, never mind. I was wrong.

As I opened the app store, he tapped his keys—and the tiny, clearly homemade halfway decayed we heart Mr. Cooper keychain that looked like it was bound to fall off at any moment—on my wrist.

“Please, I won’t sleep well tonight knowing I sent you off with a stranger. Plus, Olive might kill me later for it. You said I’m only a block away from you, so it’s on the way.”

Olive had been blowing up my phone since she left an hour ago, asking me if I was home, then whether I’d eaten enough, then a HELLO???, topped off with a message from Finn that said My wife is waddling back and forth in our bedroom. Can you please tell her that you are alive?

I fired off a quick I’m fine, call tomorrow text and turned back to Cooper. “Okay.” I shrugged. Might as well take the ride. I was too tired and boat-y to argue.

Cooper tipped the server generously—probably for the excess shouting along the way—and guided me out the front door and to the parking lot.

“You can walk on your own, right?”

I pictured him carrying me in those lean arms for a minute and almost lied. But even a few drinks in, my lying had always been pathetic. “Yup.” I popped the P and followed him through the rows of cars until he walked toward a large white SUV.

He opened the passenger door, exposing a clean interior with tan leather seats and a floorboard that wasn’t engulfed with fast food receipts and empty Styrofoam cups that could possibly be growing mold as we speak. Not a single Pocahontas doll or Slim Jim wrapper to be found. Only a black tree dangling from his rearview mirror, hand sanitizer in one of the cupholders, and a phone charger facing the other side. Thank God we weren’t taking my car.

Coop turned to me, offering a hand my way. That I refused to pass up on. My fingers interlocked with his. Warmth built in my palm, climbing through my fingertips and down to my forearm. His hand pressed firm against mine, and I had pink drink tingles coursing through me.

I avoided his gaze as I climbed into the seat. He squeezed my fingers once I got in. “Good?” he asked.

No, I wanted to reply. I am so starved for human affection that a mere five-second hand hold felt so sensual that my stomach did an Olympic somersault. “Yup,” I squeaked, forcing my view to stick to the windshield, watching as snow fluttered down over the parking lot and onto the surrounding cars. Cooper pulled his hand away from me, using it to softly close the door. As his fingers drifted from mine, I knew that warmth was going to be there far longer than just this car ride. And I kind of hated myself for it.

A moment later, Cooper hopped into the driver’s seat beside me. The car filled with his dirty pirate cologne again, and my pulse beat against the skin he’d just touched.

“On a scale of one to ten, how drunk are you?” he asked.

“I’m not drunk. Maybe a three. Just enough to feel comfortable talking to you more, but not enough where you should be concerned about my ability to take care of myself or the kids.”

He nodded and started the car, switching the gear into reverse. “Gotcha, so the perfect amount, then?”

“Mm-hmm,” I confirmed, leaning back into the headrest, closing my eyes and enjoying the smooth voice of Billy Joel around us on the way home. Even more soothing was Cooper’s voice occasionally singing the words, but mostly just humming along like the sweetest lullaby. Reminiscent of a cat purring in the palm of your hand.

I smiled to myself, proud that, for once, I’d done something for me. I’d taken a few hours to be selfish and to spend time with people who actually enjoyed my presence—or seemed to, at the least, if Cooper’s common guffaws were anything to go by.

The guilt was there too, deep down. Knowing I could have spent the time with the kids and instead chose to be selfish. It would hit me like a freight train at some point. But I refused to let it fully set in until I got back to the house and in my bed, with no one left to hear me having a pity party about my poor decisions. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and finding out who I actually was probably couldn’t be managed that quickly either. But it felt like progress, even if I lost it all again tomorrow. No number of personality quizzes with different results could replace the ground work I’d set tonight. Or I guess that Cooper had set, considering he was the one pulling out the game.

We pulled into my driveway, the headlights shining on my parents’ car in front of us, over to the side door. The blinds in the window leading to the kitchen were suddenly pulled apart, and two incredibly nosy pairs of eyes appeared. I wished I could say it was the kids. But undoubtedly, that would be my parents.

I unbuckled my seat belt in a waving rush, pushing my door open and practically flinging myself out of the car. “Wellthiswasgreatseeyouaroundsometi—” I closed the door, cutting my sentence off.

My feet took off, and I was a little too tipsy to be worried that I looked like one of those birds on the beach chasing after a stray hotdog bun in the wind.

Cooper’s door opened before I could get away from the car. “I’m walking you to the door.”

“There is no need for that.” I kept walking.

“I didn’t mean it as a question, Madeline.” His voice left very little room for arguments, and even if I felt like disagreeing, his feet were rushing to my side.

I looked from his long legs over to the door that was now creaking open, where my parents were now indiscreetly staring at us. By the way I paused, you would have thought I was sixteen again, getting caught making out with my boyfriend in the driveway.

“Goodnight, Cooper.”

“Wait. Let me just—”

The door opened fully, and Mom stood there, eyeing us back and forth. “Were you not going to introduce us?”

I looked to Cooper, who was smirking at me, and to my mom, who looked like she was trying to do a mental recap of every crime show she’d watched in the last twenty years, wondering if he had been on any of them.

“Not really,” I decided.

Cooper walked up behind me, his shoulder bumping against mine. “Evening, Mrs. Sage.” He dipped his head in a hello to my dad. “Mr. Sage.”

Any hint of alcohol and freedom dissipated from my body like the air itself had sucked it dry. I was going to be sober for the rest of my life because of this.

“Why does he look so familiar? Tom, doesn’t he look familiar?”

“You think everyone looks familiar, Eloise.”

She pointed a finger at Cooper beside me. “Well, he especially does.”

“Cooper is Charlie’s ski instructor,” I explained. “You dropped him off last week.”

“Yes! That’s it. So you were her date tonight?” With the way she emphasized the word date, she may as well have been accusing him of robbing a bank or maybe putting salt in the sugar containers at various fast food locations. Because a man she hadn’t set me up with was a man not worth knowing.

I opened my mouth to give a definite no just as Cooper spoke beside me. “Yep.”

If this clueless man had any idea of the can of worms he’d just unleashed on us both, then I’d guarantee he would rewind the tape and shove that single syllable right back into his mouth.

Mom’s eyes cut to me. “You’re dating your nephew’s coach?”

I hated that she made a point of calling him my nephew. He was. I knew that. It wasn’t like I carried Charlie for ten months and popped him out myself. But still, nephew felt far too distant for what he meant to me.

“Uh…” I gave Cooper a look that essentially was a bunch of question marks. His eyes widened, and he replied with a long line of exclamation points. “Yes.” No. No, no, no. I take it back, there were still remnants of coconut rum in my system. There was no other explanation.

“So, is it serious?” she asked, as if it was entirely sane to bring up within the first two minutes of meeting a date.

“Yes,” Cooper proudly shouted as I muttered, “No.”

I turned to him, and that lip quirked up when he said, “It’s very serious.”

The only expectation I had for that would be a ranting of how selfish I was for taking Cooper as my own or that I should instead find a “nice, reliable man with a steady income.” I say this from experience, since my mom previously tried to set me up with a pharmacist. And a dentist. And men who all had jobs ending in -ist.

Instead, her lips pulled up a bit. Not a smile but not quite a scowl either. A…smowl. “Well, I don’t know how I feel about you dating your nephew’s coach, but I suppose at this point, any man will do. Someone needed to get you out of the house.”

Dad was still staring at Cooper like he was about to whisk me away to the Netherlands to take my innocence and sell me CBD gummies—he still believes they’re actual edibles. Meanwhile, Cooper was looking at me, and although I refused to meet his eye, I could feel the pleading.

He needed a fake woman in his life. I needed to get my mother off my back. He was trying to, for a lack of better terms, kill two birds with one stone.

One swell foop. No, that’s not right.

“It’s”—I lifted my eyes to Cooper, who looked like he was desperately waiting with this starving puppy look. I caved—“serious. But not serious enough where the kids know. We would like to keep it that way.”

I was done for. Too much rum.