Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Look, I didn’t know enough about Cooper’s situation with his ex to weigh in or—
No, scratch that. I didn’t know anything about them.
He’d inferred a communication breakdown of some kind. However, he’d never shared specifics and I hadn’t pressed. I could argue that made our dynamic a bit one-sided, but I wouldn’t snoop.
Okay. That was a lie. I’d tried to snoop. I’d asked the occasional question about Sarah and Frank, how he felt about his ex remarrying, what he thought of Frank’s relationship with Ivy and Chase. They obviously liked the guy—and that was a good thing, right?
Cooper’s replies were always vague and almost calculated. So much so that I didn’t dare ask the one thing I was dying to know. What had happened to his marriage?
He’d built a high wall around the subject and wasn’t willing to divulge any details. On one hand, I understood. I’d been on the other end of those questions too, and hadn’t appreciated the scrutiny. I mean, divorce was tough. With kids, it got even more complicated. Ivy and Chase were incredibly well-adjusted, which probably meant that both parents worked extra hard to make living in two separate houses easier for them. But I got the feeling, it came at a cost. A price only Cooper was paying.
“Oh. If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here.”
Cooper jolted slightly and pinned me with a shrewd stare. “I appreciate that, but…there’s nothing to talk about.”
See?
“Okay. Then get ready for me to kick your ass at Monopoly.” I pointed at the game being set up on the table in the adjoining dining room.
Cooper groaned, swiping the wine bottle from the counter. “We’re gonna need this. Let’s go, birthday boy.”
I licked frosting from my fork, admiring the cake once more before following him.
Life was funny. Not so long ago, my measure of a rockin’ birthday was the strength of the hangover I suffered the next day. I’d have laughed at the suggestion of a quiet night with homemade treats and a boardgame I hadn’t played in decades.
But this had been a good day. A great day. To wish for anything more would be greedy.
Yet somehow…I wanted more.
CHAPTER 19
COOPER
The summer months were popular in my house.
I didn’t have to shuttle Ivy and Chase to Fallbrook every day…at all. Not even for camp. This year they’d opted to do day camp with Reg’s kids, where their daily activities included swimming lessons and boating at the lake, dance and tennis at the rec center, and hockey camp for both of them in Elmwood. And of course, flag football.
Their schedule was better for me than Sarah by a long shot. I was surprised she hadn’t pushed back and insisted on doing some activities in Fallbrook. But then I realized there might be a motive behind her silence, and I wasn’t ready to unpack that just yet.
If I ignored the possible move she hadn’t mentioned in months and the niggling feeling that it wasn’t like my ex to go out of her way to appease me, I could admit that this summer was shaping up to be one of the best I’d personally had in years.
The kids were busy and happy, and I was in a rare zone where my work and home life seemed perfectly balanced. I had Silas to thank for that.
Everyone knew that we were friends by now and in the summer months when the whole town was in the streets, playing tag and football and organizing block parties, it was easy to blend in as buddies.
Well, maybe we hadn’t fooled everyone.
I’d thought it was a little strange the first time Reg suggested that I invite my neighbor to his place for a barbecue. But Reg was a friendly guy, and Silas was coaching his kids too.
And Aunt Rhona and Uncle Harry had been known to have total strangers over, so dinner at their house with Silas was…well, nice. Really nice.
Should I have been concerned that the invitation came while Ivy and Chase were at their mom’s? Maybe. But we went anyway.
“Oh, my God! Check out that hair. You’re like Mr. Grunge Lumberjack Man,” Silas hooted, pointing at the collage of family photos that covered every square inch of my aunt and uncle’s family room.
“He was in a band that year, weren’t you, Coop?” Aunt Rhona said. “Axe Life or Sex Life or—”
“Axin’ It,” I supplied in an appropriately mortified tone. “That lasted two months.”
Silas snorted. “What happened?”
My aunt beat me to it. “They were awful. Not one of them could play an instrument. Nails down a chalkboard, I tell you. Cooper slashing away at that poor guitar was almost as bad as Reg pounding on the drums like that furry fellow from the Muppets. Reg had more hair back then. See?”
She showed a high school pic of Reg and me sitting side by side in our football uniforms, legs touching and grinning like madmen. And another of Reg resting his head on my shoulder, drum sticks in hand while I posed with a borrowed guitar.