She hastily moved on before he could get out his next one. “May the best of your past be the worst of your future.”
“That’d be something,” Cooper said softly. “I’d be happy with the worst of my past just being far away from the best of my future.”
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“It will be.” She was willing to go head-to-head with the universe to make sure of it.
She wondered if too much of that showed in her eyes, because Cooper cleared his throat and looked away. His eyes seemed brighter than ever.
He said, “Just one more, if that’s okay.” He brushed his square of chocolate against hers. “To you, Gretchen. You believed me when no one else did. You saw me when no one else did. And you bought me chocolate of as-of-yet undetermined quality.”
She shook her head. “I’ve determined the quality. It’s too bitter. And you’ve had too much bitterness already.” She curled her fingers around his hand, knowing her chocolate would start melting from their combined body heat. “I’d toast to you. You served your witnesses and your team faithfully, and you had it all stripped away from you, without even a tenth of the defense and support you should have had. You waited in prison when you didn’t even know if you ever had any hope of getting free. And Coop, you stayed good. You’re still the man you were before you were locked up—someone kind enough and brave enough to try to save a stranger. To you.”
“To us,” Cooper said.
She could live with that. More than live with it, actually: it sent a pleasant shiver up her spine, a shiver that was hot instead of cold.
They ate the chocolate in unison.
As always, Gretchen’s nose wrinkled as her mouth automatically puckered around the ultra-bitter chocolate. She liked dark chocolate, but there was a line.
This was just blech.
Cooper’s expression was more thoughtful. He chewed slowly, his eyes half-closed like he was taking the taste in. Gretchen didn’t see what there was to take in: she’d rather just spit it out.
But maybe he liked it. She could try to be nonjudgmental about his very incorrect taste in chocolate.
“What do you think?”
“It’s definitely bitter. But it’s still chocolate, and I like chocolate.”
“It’s barely chocolate,” Gretchen emphasized. “It’s like pure cocoa held together with wishful thinking. You deserve better chocolate.”
“To be fair,” Cooper said, a spark of humor in his eyes, “you didn’t buy me better chocolate. You bought me this chocolate.”
She couldn’t really argue with that.
“I also bought you a Milky Way Midnight. But that’s not really fancy enough to qualify as better chocolate. I mean, better than this—”
“It’s not that bad,” Cooper said, breaking off another square.
He only thought it wasn’t that bad because he was used to having the bare minimum of sweetness in his life. She wanted him to get back to expectations where the hint of bitterness would add pleasant contrast. Not be the main feature.
But there was nothing she could do about that while they were stuck in a snowstorm. She reluctantly took another piece of chocolate. It wasn’t like they had a big enough picnic here for her to be choosy.
If they’d been in her personal car, they would have had a lot more options. Gretchen kept her trunk stocked with all kinds of emergency goodies just in case she ever got stranded; she was usually loaded up with granola bars, dried fruit, water bottles, flares, and more.
But hey, wait a second. They weren’t in the official government car. They were just in Martin’s personal vehicle, and Martin might be just as careful about that as she was. She’d never known him to run into a situation he was unprepared for.
Even the thought of it made her feel a little better.
Plus, if she was right, it meant she could leave the tongue-twistingly bitter chocolate to the guy who actually seemed to enjoy it.
She tugged her hat down over her ears. “There might be a blanket in the trunk. Maybe even some extra food. I’ll go out and check.”
“I’ll go.”
“I’m more bundled up than you are.”