Alex had called him several times that night, and was surprised to find him out. He hadn't said anything to her about it. But she had noticed that he had been restless recently, and she didn't know what to do about it. It never occurred to her to call and check on him at two in the morning, nor that he might have gone up to the gatehouse to have dinner with the O'Connors. But after five months in the relationship with him, it seemed to be stalling.
Coop lay in bed awake for a long time that night, thinking about things he and Valerie had said. He had a lot to think about, and decisions to make. He fell into a fitful sleep finally, dreaming about Charlene and the baby.
Chapter 22
Things got considerably worse for Coop after his dinner with Jimmy and Valerie. He had a meeting with Abe the next day, who told him that if he didn't turn things around in the next three months, there was no question in his mind that Coop had to sell The Cottage.
“You owe back taxes, you owe stores, you owe hotels, you owe your tailor in London eighty thousand dollars. You owe jewelers, you owe just about everyone on the planet. And if you don't pay what you owe to the IRS by the end of the year, not to mention your credit cards, they're not going to give you a chance to sell The Cottage, they're going to seize it and sell it for you.” Things were even more dire than Coop had suspected, and for once he heard him. The months he had spent with Alex had somehow improved his hearing. “I think you ought to marry Alex,” Abe said sensibly, but Coop was offended by the suggestion.
“My love life has nothing to do with my financial circumstances, Abe,” Coop said with dignity. But his accountant thought his scruples foolish in the extreme. He had a golden opportunity. Why not take advantage of it? Marrying Alex would have provided him a windfall he needed desperately.
Alex had just worked three days straight when she came home exhausted one night. She'd been covering for two other people, and had had a string of emergencies, babies coding, mothers getting hysterical, a father who had threatened a doctor with a gun when his baby died unexpectedly, and was subsequently arrested. She felt as though she'd seen it all and then some by the time she got to The Cottage. Mark and Taryn were away for two days, and all Alex wanted to do was take a bath and go to sleep in bed next to Coop. She didn't even have the energy to describe to him what she'd been through.
“Bad day?” he asked casually, and she shook her head. She was near tears from sheer exhaustion. She wanted to see Jimmy, but she was too tired to visit him. She had promised to go up and see him in the morning. He was getting stir-crazy being stuck in the gatehouse with his mother. Alex called him as often as she could, but in the past two days she hadn't even had time to do that. She felt like she'd been a hostage on another planet.
“Bad three days,” she explained, as Coop offered to cook her dinner. “I'd be too tired to eat it,” she said honestly. “All I want to do is jump into the tub and go to bed. I'm sorry, Coop. I'll be better tomorrow.”
But in the morning, he seemed strangely quiet. He sat staring into space at the breakfast table. She made him bacon and eggs, and poured him a glass of orange juice in his favorite Baccarat goblet. And after he ate it, he looked at her with an unhappy expression.
“Are you okay?” she asked quietly. She was feeling much better after a night's sleep and a good breakfast. But she was a lot younger than he was, and recovered quickly.
“I have something to say to you,” he said, looking anguished for a moment.
“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.