“I need to check my mail. I’m waiting on the law school admissions test registration.”
Bringing my hand to rest on his, I watch as we approach the tower. “I was sort of afraid to broach the subject, not sure what you thought about it more recently. You’re still wanting to go to law school?”
He pulls to the curb and shifts into park. “I’m taking the test because I’m not sure anymore, and I don’t want to lose an opportunity if I decide I want to be an attorney.”
“Will you join the family business?”
Licking his lips, he stares ahead through the windshield. When he turns back to me, he replies, “I’m not sure what I’m doing, Story. I guess that’s a conversation for us both to have, considering how well this is going.” He opens the door. “I’ll be right back.”
I watch as he enters the lobby—a man so sure of himself except when it comes to his family. I always thought I had it bad, never knowing what Calliope would do next, but I knew she loved me. Despite the bad decisions she made, she did the best she could. That allows me to forgive her now.
I can only imagine the pain Cooper endures daily, knowing his parents care more about their reputations and bank account than their only son. I’ll make up for them. I’ll love him so hard that he’ll never know what he’s missing.
As he jogs back with a stack of mail in hand, his hair appears darker, moodier even, the scruff covering his jaw matching the sky at midnight. He’s changing for the better—inside and out. I’m lucky I get to witness it.
“Do you mind holding this?” he asks, settling into the driver’s seat.
“Nope.” I take the mail and set it on my lap. As soon as he pulls away from the curb, the top few letters slide onto the floor, leaving the LSAT mail on top of the stack. “You got it.”
“Yeah.” He glances over his shoulder before changing lanes. “The test is in three weeks. I need to study because my grades won’t get me into law school. I fucked up for too long to get in on my grade point average.”
“You can do it. I have no doubt.” He rounds the campus and is approaching my street when I reach down to get the letters that fell. I eye the sender’s address on the larger one. MCAT. “Did you register for the medical college admissions test as well?”
“Is that in there?”
“It’s right here.” I hold it up.
Pulling into a spot on my street, he parks and then shrugs. “Our conversation about pursuing psychology as a career got me thinking.”
“About?”
“I don’t have any interest in therapy, but if I’m considering the years ahead for law school, I figured I could put those into becoming a doctor.”
“That’s a lot more years of schooling.”
Grabbing his phone from the console, he says, “It’s four years versus three in law school, and then you enter residency from three to seven.”
“I think that’s amazing if it’s something you want to pursue. I just didn’t know the medical field interested you.”
My non-question is answered with another shrug. “Guess I’m a late bloomer. I checked into it casually a month or so ago. Didn’t feel it needed an announcement simply because it does feel more like a whim than a decision. But most of my classes apply toward medical school, so I thought I’d make up a few this summer if I decide to move in that direction. If I can’t score well on the test, though, my decision will be made for me.”
A mixture of love and pride blooms inside. “I’m proud of you, Cooper.”
Grinning, he nods. “Thanks. You’ve been a big inspiration in finding what you want to do and going for it.”
“I didn’t dream of being an accountant, but I do enjoy the financial analyst side of things.” When I get out of the car, I hand him his mail. Reaching back in, I retrieve the straggler from the floorboard that I couldn’t reach before. This time when I see the sender’s address, my heartbeat stills, and my breath clogs in my chest.
I slowly turn around, not wanting to ruin how good this feels with him right now. I do, though. His eyes follow the same pattern as mine had when he scans it. Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I ask, “What is it?”
“I don’t know.” He rips it open, his optimism already gone. Pulling out the cardstock, he reads it and then flips it around. “We’ve been cordially invited to my graduation party in May at the Haywood House.”
“Did you know about this?”
“No, I had no idea.”
Just when things were going so well, I couldn’t help but think, here we go again.
28
Story
Two months later . . .