Maybe they could.
“You got a real firecracker there,” Cooter said, raising his coffee in the direction Emmie had gone.
Melanie smiled politely. “Yeah.”
“You know, your man trouble reminds me of a story.” Cooter rose and crossed to the one of the bar stools. He ran his hand down the length of his white beard, gearing up.
“Cooter, I—”
“There’s these two old women, real biddies, the kind who sit in the sun and yak the day away.” Cooter looked to Melanie, waiting for her to nod in understanding. “One of ’em, she’s got this dog and it’s moaning. The other says, ‘What’s wrong with your dog?’ The first lady looks at the idiot of a pooch and says, ‘He’s been eatin’ wood chips. Tears up his belly somethin’ fierce.’ Second lady shakes her head. ‘Why would he do that, if it hurts?’ First lady throws up her hands. ‘I dunno. Guess he ain’t gotten smart enough yet to quit.’” Cooter grinned at her, as if he’d just given her the secret to life.
“That’s a…great story,” Melanie said. “I think.”
“It means,” Cooter said, leaning forward, his light blue eyes bright, “you keep doin’ stupid things until they hurt you enough and then you get smart enough to quit.” He gave her a nod, then returned to his coffee and his paper.
Melanie shook her head. Cooter had a habit of dispensing wisdom wrapped in allegories. She wasn’t quite sure if his tidbit today was about her relationship with Emmie—or with Cade. Or heck, the hot plate she’d burned her thumb on earlier today.
The door jingled and Melanie turned, expecting the next influx of college students. Instead Cade stood in the doorway, still dressed in his suit—his fighting clothes, he used to call them—but a little more rumpled than when he’d started his day. His dark blue tie was loosened at the neck of his white button-down shirt, giving him an air of vulnerability. He looked like a little boy trying to escape the confines of his Sunday best.
Then Cade strode forward, with the same comfortable, assured step he’d always had, and any comparisons to preschoolers ended.
Her stomach flipped over, heavy with a desire that she’d thought had long ago disappeared. But no, it was there, just waiting for Cade. His smile. His touch.
“Hi, Melanie.”
Two words and everything within her shuddered to a stop. Damn Cade for still having that power over her. A year apart and a simple glance could still awaken the spark that had first drawn her to him.
A spark, however, wasn’t enough to rebuild—and maintain—the fire they’d needed as adults. If it had, it would have gotten them through the roughest parts, the days when one needed the other, and that call had gone unanswered.
“Do you want some coffee?” Melanie said, getting to her feet and putting the counter’s width between them.
“Sure.” He slid onto one of the bar stools. His face was lined with exhaustion. Melanie’s hand ached to reach out, to touch him and wipe all that away. Despite everything they’d gone through, she still worried about him. Some feelings, she’d found, couldn’t be turned off like a dripping garden hose.
Either way, Cade wouldn’t want her to do that. If there was one thing Cade prided himself on, it was his “can do no matter what” attitude. If only he’d relied on her more, talked more.
She slid a cup of black Kenyan roast across the counter, knowing from all their years together that he wouldn’t want anything fancier. “Here you go. On the house.”
“Thanks.”
“So…” she began, after he took a long sip but still didn’t speak, “why did you stop in today?” He’d been here twice in the space of two days, after nearly a year of separation that hadn’t involved more than a couple of quick run-ins at events for Emmie. There had to be a reason—Cade Matthews was a man who didn’t waste time, or make a half-hour journey if he didn’t have an agenda.
He cupped his hands around the mug, staring at the coffee for a long second before looking up and meeting Melanie’s gaze. “Are you happy here?”
“Yes,” she answered, no reservations in her voice.
“I love working for myself.”
“Good.”
He didn’t go on and Melanie told herself not to push. But then she found her mouth opening anyway, out of habit, out of something more, she didn’t know.
“What’s bothering you, Cade?”
He drew in a breath, then slid the coffee to the side. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ve just been putting in too many hours lately. Or had too many frustrating clients.”
“You’re not enjoying your job anymore?” she asked, surprised. There’d never been a day where she’d seen Cade anything but charged to get to the office. Perhaps that was why he was interviewing with Bill, to find a new challenge. Or maybe he’d finally grown tired of being under his father’s demanding rule.
“I have a trial next month,” he went on.
“Trademark infringement. One of those really big battles. On any other day, I’d be charged up, ready to hit it head-on.”
“But not today?”
He shrugged. “It’s like I’ve already been there, done that. I don’t know…maybe I’m just looking for something different.”
Cade unsure? Questioning his job? Either he was an alien replacement of his former self or—
There was no “or.” The Cade she knew hadn’t had a day of indecision. Perhaps he felt out of sorts now that the divorce was becoming a reality.
“I stopped by because I had an idea. An idea for you and me,” he said, putting up a hand. “Don’t say no until you’ve heard me out.”
“Okay…” She leaned back against the small refrigerator and crossed her arms over her chest. The appliance hummed against her back.
“We’ve been apart for a year and if we go to the reunion as we are now, I’m sure that’s going to show.”
“Oh, I don’t—”
“It will, Melanie. We’re not close like we used to be.”
“We were never close, Cade.” The harsh truth sat there between them, heavy and immovable. She’d thought they were, once, but it had disappeared, lost in Cade’s relentless work schedule and her busy days of being room mom and child chauffeur.
In the dark of night, she longed for that closeness again. Longed for Cade, for the days when he’d crawled into bed and wrapped his arms around her, making it seem as if anything in the world was possible. Then work had taken him away more and more—physically, emotionally—and those times had stopped.
“Either way,” Cade continued, “I don’t want to walk into that room and let the entire senior class know we’re having problems.”
Those would show, without a doubt. The old Cade and Melanie had been glued at the hip, always touching or flirting, and making so many public displays of affection, PDAs, as Emmie called them, that anyone within a five-county radius could tell they were in love. “Since when did you start worrying about what other people think?”
His eyes met hers and in them, she saw much more than exhaustion. Loneliness. Regret. But then he swallowed, and it all disappeared, replaced with Can-Do Cade. Disappointment flickered inside her. “I don’t. I just want this to be convincing for Bill.”
She slapped a smile on her face. “Of