Page 52

I will wait for you, Cooper. I will count the days, the hours, the moments until you are released. But if I do, there can be no ghosts between us.

No stolen glimpses through windows that were never meant to be open to you. No strangers under your gaze, unaware they are being seen.

Watching me—only me—has to be enough.

I need to be enough.

If you can give me that, then I will be here when you walk out of your cage. I will be waiting. I will be yours.

If you can’t… then this is the last letter I’ll ever send.

—Robin

I’m at the empty inn, missing him. Here to feel something…to feel closer to him. The waves assault the jagged cliffs, hammering the rocks like a battering ram. Wearing them down, smoothing them out. The same thing Cooper did to me.

Blurred lines.

Who am I supposed to be loyal to?

Do I stick to the role life’s assigned me?

Can this survive? Will the best parts of who we were, who we are, retain this life?

We each gave the other a gift: acceptance and love.

Life is a maze, love a conundrum.

My phone vibrates in my hand.

Unknown number.

“What?!” I holler into the phone. “God damn, please stop calling me.”

My finger hovers above the End button when I hear, “Ms. Richardson, I’m Cooper Burick’s lawyer.”

I press my forehead against the window on the grand wrap-around porch, feeling the edge press into my skin, focusing on the uncomfortableness of it. “I’m sorry, who?”

There’s a sigh on the other end of the line. “You’re not in any trouble. I need to meet with you to go over Cooper’s estate.”

“Estate?”

“Are you available this week?”

I suck in a ragged breath. Exhale.

“I… sure.”

***

I’m seated in a leather chair across from Cooper’s lawyer a week later. The sound of the city seeps through the office windows, a distant cacophony that makes everything feel surreal. I’m sure the lawyer’s used to this—used to people being dumbstruck into silence—but he surprises me by flicking his gaze up from his paperwork with an empathetic smile.

“He left you in charge of his bank accounts, apartment in the city, and the inn. This is all via power of attorney of course. With a clause that upon release…”

The words spoken into my ear pull out a lynchpin. A towering pile of confusion, shock, and awe that crashes around my legs.

“Apartment in the city?” I ask, confused.

His brows pinch together as if he’s the confused party. “It’s a lot to take in.” He nods slightly, his pen poised. “You have questions?”