Cooper
I sighed, glancing at my digital calendar as I tried for the fourteenth time that morning to rearrange my meetings in some way that allowed me to squeeze the most into my day. Too bad that wasn’t the only thing on my mind. As I shifted one mixer and another golf outing, I stared at the orange highlighted dates on the screen. They were colored but blank—I hadn’t typed the words on the calendar, but I knew what they meant.
Time with Corinne.
In the past three weeks since our night at the museum, we’d seen each other three or four times a week, but try as I might, there was still something between us. An invisible wedge. A bridge that I wasn’t allowed to cross.
Not that I hadn’t tried. I’d taken her to movies and readings and art galleries. Cooked her dinner at my place and asked h
