He takes longer in the kitchen than he might have under any other circumstances but it's because he had to take a moment to grip the counter, knuckles whitening with the strain, and take a deep breath to accept the fact that this is happening and there's not a goddamn thing he can do to change it. He hates that she's here, he's relieved to see her; he wishes she'd just walk back out of town, he doesn't know if he can handle her leaving again. He's at war with himself, completely incapable of making a decision one way or the other about how he wants this conversation to go or what he wants to hear. How can she explain throwing away what they'd had together in one evening? How can she expect to fix anything after it's been four years, after she's given him this much time to grieve and then move on?
The worst part is that he'd thought he had moved on. The first time he'd realized he'd gotten through a day without hoping that she'd be next to him in bed in the morning or that she'd be downstairs cooking breakfast or that she'd welcome him home with a kiss when he came home from work, it had been such a strange feeling. He'd welcomed it, had already been sure that he'd never see her again, and as time has gone on and he'd started to become the flirty vet so many people know him as now, Coop had felt like himself again. The Coop he'd been before Sylvie, before idea of commitment, before heartbreak.
He likes who he is now, but he hadn't hated who he'd been with her and maybe that's why he can't seem to figure anything out right now. It's with a heavy sigh that he pours the wine into two glasses and shuts his eyes tight for a moment before carrying them out to the deck where Sophie's standing with her arms wrapped around herself by the infinity pool that looks out at the beach. The stars are bright tonight, the moon a mere crescent, but Coop doesn't need much more lighting to be well aware of how beautiful she is.
He holds one of the glasses out as he approaches her, offering a tight smile that doesn't reach his eyes as he holds his own up in a weak attempt at a cheers. "So." He doesn't know what else to say, rendered speechless not for the first time tonight, and his eyes wander to the shoreline as he watches the waves crash against the sand.
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The worst part is that he'd thought he had moved on. The first time he'd realized he'd gotten through a day without hoping that she'd be next to him in bed in the morning or that she'd be downstairs cooking breakfast or that she'd welcome him home with a kiss when he came home from work, it had been such a strange feeling. He'd welcomed it, had already been sure that he'd never see her again, and as time has gone on and he'd started to become the flirty vet so many people know him as now, Coop had felt like himself again. The Coop he'd been before Sylvie, before idea of commitment, before heartbreak.
He likes who he is now, but he hadn't hated who he'd been with her and maybe that's why he can't seem to figure anything out right now. It's with a heavy sigh that he pours the wine into two glasses and shuts his eyes tight for a moment before carrying them out to the deck where Sophie's standing with her arms wrapped around herself by the infinity pool that looks out at the beach. The stars are bright tonight, the moon a mere crescent, but Coop doesn't need much more lighting to be well aware of how beautiful she is.
He holds one of the glasses out as he approaches her, offering a tight smile that doesn't reach his eyes as he holds his own up in a weak attempt at a cheers. "So." He doesn't know what else to say, rendered speechless not for the first time tonight, and his eyes wander to the shoreline as he watches the waves crash against the sand.