“Is something wrong?” He didn't answer her, and she didn't know why, but she'd had the feeling they'd been losing altitude lately.

“Alex… there are things you don't know about me. Things I didn't want to tell you. I didn't want to tell me either,” he smiled sadly. “I have enormous debts. I'm afraid I'm a bit like the prodigal son, and have spent it all on ‘riotous living.’ The problem is, unlike the prodigal, I have no father to come home to. My father is long gone, and he had no money anyway. He lost it all in the Depression. And I'm up the creek, as they say. Taxes, debts, I have to pay the piper one of these days. I may even have to sell The Cottage.”

She wondered for a minute if he was asking her for money. It wouldn't have upset her if he had. They were close enough by now for him to be honest with her. She preferred that to secrets between them, even if the truth was unpleasant. She knew about all this anyway, from her father. “I'm sorry to hear it, Coop. But it's not the end of the world. There are worse things.” Like death, and bad health, and cancer, and what had happened to Maggie.

“Not for me. My lifestyle is important to me. So much so that I've sold my soul for it occasionally, making bad movies, or just spending money I didn't have, so I could go on living the way I wanted, the way I felt I deserved. It's not something I'm proud of, but I did it.” He was making a clean breast of his situation. He knew he had to. It was the voice of his conscience speaking, in his case a country never before heard from. It was all very unfamiliar to him.

“Do you want me to help you?” she asked, looking lovingly at him. She had truly come to love him, whether or not he wanted to have children with her. She had decided to make that sacrifice for him, if he asked her to. She thought he was worth it.

But he startled her with his answer. “No, I don't. That's why I'm talking to you. Marrying you would be the easiest way out for me. And the hardest in the long run. If I married you, I would never know for sure why I did it. For you. Or your money.”

“Maybe you don't have to know. They come as a package. Fully loaded. You don't have to select options.”

“To be honest with you, I'm not even sure if I love you. Not enough to marry you anyway. I love being with you, I have fun with you. I've never known anyone like you. But you're a solution for me. The answer to all my prayers and problems. And then what? The whole world will call me a gigolo, and they'd be right probably. And so would you eventually. And without a doubt, your father. Even my accountant thinks I should marry you. It's a lot easier than working to pay back taxes. That's not who I want to be, Alex. And maybe I do love you, because I care about you enough to tell you that's not who I want you to marry.”

“Are you serious?” She looked horrified. “What are you saying to me?” She thought she knew but she didn't want to hear it.

“I'm too old for you. I'm old enough to be your grandfather. I don't want babies. Yours, Charlene's, or anyone else's. I have a daughter now, through the grace of God. She's a grown woman and a nice one, and I never did a damn thing for her. I'm too old and too poor and too tired, and you're too young and too rich. We have to end this.” She felt as though her breakfast had just gotten stuck in her throat as she listened.

“Why? I'm not even asking you to marry me. I don't need to get married, Coop. And telling me I'm too rich is discrimination.” He smiled at her answer, but there were tears in her eyes, and his. He hated to do this, but he knew he had to.

“You should get married, and have babies. Lots of them. You'd be a terrific mother. And any minute that bitch Charlene is going to turn my life into an absolute swamp of scandal. I can't do anything about it, but I can at least spare you the embarrassment of swimming through it with me. I can't do this to you. Any of it. I won't let you solve my financial problems. And I'm serious, if I marry you, I'll never know why I did it. To be honest, more than likely, it would be for the money. If I didn't have these problems, I probably wouldn't even be thinking about getting married. I'd just be playing.” He had never been as candid with anyone, but he felt he owed it to her.

“Don't you love me?” She sounded like a little girl who had just been dropped off at the orphanage, which was what she felt like. He had rejected her. Just as her parents had. And Carter. She felt the weight of the world on her as she looked at him, and he was as honest as he had promised himself he would be.

“I don't know, to be honest with you. I'm not even sure I know what love is. But whatever it is, it shouldn't happen between a girl your age and a man mine. It's not natural, and it's not right. It isn't the correct order of things. And marrying you for what you can do for me won't change that. It only makes matters worse. For once in my life, I want to have some dignity, and not just act as though I have it. I want to do the right thing, for both of us. And the right thing in this case is setting you free, and cleaning up my own mess, no matter what it takes to do it.” It had been a Herculean effort for him to say what he had to her, and it nearly broke his heart looking at her. All he wanted to do was put his arms around her and tell her he loved her, because he did, enough not to ruin her life by staying with her. “I think you should go home now, Alex,” he said sadly. “This is hard for both of us. But trust me, it's the right thing to do here.” She was crying openly, as she cleared away their breakfast. And afterwards, she went upstairs and packed up her things. And when she came down, he was sitting in the library, looking morbid. He hated doing it, but he knew he had to. “It's a terrible thing, a conscience, isn't it?” She had given him one, like a gift from her, and so had Taryn. He wasn't sure he was grateful to them. But now that he had one, he knew he had to use it.

“I love you, Coop,” she said, looking at him, hoping he would change his mind and beckon to her, and ask her to stay with him, but he didn't. He couldn't.

“I love you too, little one… take care of yourself.” He made no move toward her. She nodded, and walked out the front door. She felt as though her life as a fairy princess was over. She was being sent away from home, into the darkness and loneliness. It was impossible for her to understand why he had done it. She couldn't help wondering if there was someone else. And there was finally. There was Coop. He had himself now. He had found the piece of him that had always been missing. It was the piece he had always been afraid to find.

Alex drove up the driveway in tears, and as the gate opened, she knew without a doubt that she had just turned into a pumpkin. Or she felt that way anyway. But she was who she had always been. It was Coop who had turned into a prince finally. A real one.





Chapter 23

Jimmy couldn't understand why he hadn't heard from Alex. She hadn't called, she hadn't come to visit. And Valerie said she hadn't seen Alex at the pool all week. She hadn't run into Coop either. And when she did finally, he looked grim. She almost hesitated to talk to him. She just swam quietly, until he finally said something to her. He asked about Jimmy.

“He's better. He complains constantly. He's getting sick of me. It'll do him good when he can get around on crutches.” Coop only nodded. And then Valerie asked after Alex. There was an interminable silence. And then he looked at Valerie, and she saw something in his eyes she hadn't previously. He looked desperately unhappy, which was very unlike him. Coop had always been able to hide everything, even from himself. He had been brilliant at it. But no longer. He was no longer a god, he was a mortal. And mortals suffered. Sometimes a great deal.

“I'm not seeing her anymore,” he said unhappily, as Valerie paused, while drying her hair with a towel. She could see how much it had upset him to say what he just did.

“I'm so sorry.” She didn't dare ask him what had happened. He had told Taryn, and Taryn had had lunch with Alex, and then told Coop how unhappy Alex was. She felt sorry for both of them, but she thought Coop had made the right decision, especially for Alex. It would take her time to see it. And it had made him feel better when Taryn said that. He needed her full support now.

“I'm sorry too,” Coop told Valerie honestly. “Giving her up was like giving up the last of my illusions. It's better this way.” He didn't explain to her about his debts, or the fact that he didn't marry her for her money. It was enough to know it, and that he hadn't done it. Virtue was its own reward, or something like that. He told himself that often late at night, but he missed her anyway. And he had no desire to run out and find another woman, particularly a young one, which was a first for him.

“It's a bitch being a grown-up, isn't it?” she asked sympathetically. “I just hate it.”

“So do I,” he smiled at her. She was a nice woman. And so was Alex, which was why he'd refused to take advantage of her. Maybe for the first time in his life he really had been in love.

“Do you want to have dinner with us?” Valerie asked generously, and he shook his head. For once in his life, he didn't want to see anyone. He didn't want to talk or play or party. “You and Jimmy can sit and feel sorry for yourselves and growl at each other.”

“I'm almost tempted,” he laughed. “Maybe in a few days.” Or a few years. Or a few centuries. He was surprised by how much he missed her. She had become a delicious habit. Too delicious. In time, he would have choked on her. Or hurt her badly, and he didn't want to do that either.

Valerie didn't say anything to Jimmy for a few days, but when he started fuming about Alex's silence again, she finally relented.

“I think she's got some heartaches of her own right now,” Valerie said gently.

“What does that mean?” Jimmy snarled at her. He was sick of being stuck in a wheelchair and having casts on his legs. And he was angry at Alex. She had completely forgotten about him.

“I think she and Coop stopped seeing each other. In fact, I'm sure of it. I saw Coop at the pool a few days ago and he told me. I think they're probably both very upset about it. I suspect that's why you haven't heard from her.”

Jimmy sat very quietly when he heard it. And after thinking about it for a few days, he called her at the hospital but they told him she was off duty. He didn't have her number at her studio. And when he paged her, she didn't answer. It was another week before he reached her at work.

“What's happening to you? Did you die or something?” he barked at her. He had been snapping at his mother all morning. And he missed talking to Alex. She had been the only one he opened his heart to, and then she disappeared.

“Yeah, I died… sort of I've been busy.” She sounded awful, and near tears. She had been crying for two weeks.

“I know,” his voice softened as he spoke to her. He could hear that she was hurting. “My mother told me what happened.”

“How does she know?” Alex sounded startled.

“I think Coop told her. He saw her at the pool or something. I'm sorry, Alex. I know you must be unhappy about it.” He thought it was a good thing for her, but he didn't want to say that and upset her more.

“I am. It's complicated. He had some sort of crisis of conscience or something.”

“It's nice to know he has one.” Even after what had happened, Jimmy didn't like him. Particularly if he had hurt Alex in the process. But pain was unavoidable in those situations. The peeling away of two lives that had become one, even briefly, was inevitably painful. “They're taking my casts off next week, and giving me smaller ones I can walk on. Can I come and see you when they do?”

“Sure. I'd like that.” She didn't want to come and see him at The Cottage, and risk running into Coop. It would be too painful for her, and maybe even for him.

“Can I call you sometime? I don't know how to reach you. You're always busy at work, and I don't have your home number.”

“I don't have one. I sleep in a laundry basket on a pile of dirty clothes,” she said, feeling and sounding pathetic.

“That sounds attractive.”

“It isn't. Oh shit, Jimmy, I'm miserable. I guess he's right, but I think I really loved him. He says he's too old for me, and he doesn't want kids. And… he has a lot of other problems, and he doesn't want me to take care of them for him. I think he thought he was being noble. What a dumb idea.”

“I think he was being decent,” Jimmy said honestly, “and he was doing the right thing. He's right. He is too old for you, and you should have kids. When you're fifty, he'll be ninety.”