Only One Regret (Only One 5)

"What the fuck did she tell you exactly?" he asks, getting up and moving away from me. I can see that he’s angry, but I just don’t know why he’s angry. "When you left me this morning, everything was good. So you are going to have to give me more than Julianne told me."

"Well, she told me what you guys discussed," I reply, and he throws his hands up in the air.

"Erika," he says my name between clenched teeth. "I’m teetering on the edge right now. I’ve just spent all day chasing you down."

I hold up my hand and then cross my arms over my chest and lean back on the couch. "I wasn’t running," I say, annoyed he is totally right. "I think there is a difference. Would I be at your house if I was running?" I ask.

He glares at me, and he bites his teeth together. "You need to tell me exactly what was said." I get up, angry that I’m doing this. Angry that I put myself in this position when I knew being with him would kill me. What I didn’t know was how much it would hurt.

"Can we not do this?" I demand. He shakes his head and grabs his phone.

"If you are not going to tell me what she said, then I’m going to get her on the phone." He looks down at his phone, and I can see his hands moving so fast. I step to him and snatch the phone from him.

"She said that she made a mistake and she finally realized how much she loves you. She told me she wants you back," I voice. His mouth opens, and I can tell the shock that fills his face. "And she wants me to put in a good word for her since you respect what I say."

"What the fuck?” he growls, and I roll my eyes.

"She said she told you," I relay, looking at him, and for the first time today, I think about the conversation. "She said she wanted you back and that she told you." I shake my head. "You said you would think about it."

"I most certainly did not say I would think about it," he objects, looking into my eyes. "This conversation she had with you is the first I’ve even heard that she wants me back." He comes to me. "And if she did have this conversation with me, I would have told her that this wasn’t ever going to be an option." My hands come up, and I place them on his chest. "It’s not an option," he says softly. "How could you think that?"

"I didn’t know what to think," I say honestly. "She caught me off guard,” I answer him

and put my hand to my head. "I thought she was there because the girls told her about us."

"She’s going to hear about us," he says. "She is definitely going to know about us."

"I’m sorry," I say, shaking my head.

"What you mean to say is I’m sorry, Cooper, for not coming to you and talking to you and ignoring your phone calls all day long," he pushes, and I glare at him.

"She came to my office and asked to close the door." I throw my hands up. "What was I supposed to think?"

"You were supposed to think that Cooper would have told me had he had this conversation with Julianne," he points out, putting his hands on his hips. "You were supposed to come to me."

"Well, I know," I mutter, turning and starting to walk out of the yard.

"Where do you think you’re going?" he shouts at my back.

"Away from you," I throw over my shoulder. "Because I’m pissed, and you’re an asshole."

"Now this," he declares, his voice almost with laughter in it, "this I can deal with." His voice feels like he’s right behind me, and when I take one more step, his arm wraps around my waist, stopping me from taking another step. "This," he says beside my ear as he presses his front to my back. "You being pissed at me I can deal with," he whispers softly, and he turns me in his arms. "What I can’t deal with is you not answering me." His fingers come out and touch my face. "You need to answer me."

"I was scared," I finally admit it to him, but I leave out the part that I was scared she was telling me the truth. Instead, I lean my head up so he can kiss me, and kiss me he does. He kisses me until I don’t remember what I said five seconds ago. He picks me up, and my legs wrap around his hips and I bury my face in his neck. I kiss him softly as he walks through his house and upstairs to his bedroom. The bed is still unmade from this morning when we woke up. The shirt I wore to bed last night is thrown on the chair. I lean back and put one hand on his face, and my eyes look into his. "Thank you," I express, kissing his lips softly, "for coming to find me."