“If Cooper had a sleepover, why wasn’t I invited?”
My finger goes in the air, and I’m about to answer before realizing I’m not sure I should say that. Um. You’d think I’d be used to the tough questions by now, but my mind goes blank.
Then Cooper says, “I just brought your mom coffee this morning.”
“Ew,” Reed replies, completely disinterested now. Wriggling in Cooper’s arms, Reed is set back down. He runs up the steps. “I need my backpack.”
Lila says, “Seems like you and Cooper need to wrap things up a little earlier next time.” Leaning in, she asks, “Is there going to be a next time?” My friend is blunt to put things nicely, but she’s also fiercely loyal and the best friend I could ever ask for.
“We had sex and said I love you. Not in that order.”
“Um . . . huh?” Her gaze pivots to Cooper, who gives us a little wave. Then a huge smile rises on her face. “Don’t you guys ever take your time?”
Reed hugs my middle and then runs between us. “Hey Cooper, want to walk to school with me?”
“Abso-fu—Absolutely, buddy.” When Cooper looks back at me, I tap my watch. I thought he was about to be late.
He shrugs. “See you later.”
Three words that beat goodbye any day.
I lean against the doorframe and watch them together—Reed bouncing in all his energy, Cooper carrying his backpack, both having a great discussion that, apparently, involves big arm gestures—until they turn the corner.
This is a very good day.
43
Story
Three Months Later . . .
* * *
Everyday life.
It wasn’t a series of great events that happened. Just life.
Nothing out of the ordinary to make a more interesting story to tell at parties. “He walked into the coffee shop needing Wi-Fi . . .”
His version starts a little differently. “I saw her across the party with some other guy.”
“Not for long,” I’m quick to add.
“No.” He always smirks at that part. “Not for long.”
Cooper and I eased into a routine that became the pattern of our days and nights. Weekdays and weekends. Sometimes, we went out, but mostly, we stayed in and spent time with Reed.
Maybe when so much trauma happens at the start of adulthood, you naturally crave the opposite. Excitement these days is found in different ways, calmer and more peaceful.
“Mom.”
I look up to see Cooper and Reed staring at me. Reed says, “It’s your turn.”
Ah. The game. I spin the wheel on the board, then move my car six spots. “Triplets? I don’t think so. I’m going to spin again.”
“You can’t.” Reed is giggling. “That’s a lot of kids.”
I start laughing. “Yeah, I can’t imagine that many kids.”
Cooper says, “I can. I can imagine it.”
Left speechless with my mouth hanging open, I widen my eyes. Well, shit. Does he want more kids? Do I? He makes it sound easy, but there’s so much to be considered before adding to our family. Guess it’s something to start thinking about.
“I’ll finish my residency next year, and I can apply in Brooklyn for a full-time position, either at one of the hospitals or in private practice.”
I’m still staring at him, trying to process how he has all the answers as if he’s already thought this through.
With Reed here, it’s not something I want to have an open discussion about before we can talk one-on-one. “I think that’s a conversation for another day.”
“You told me you’d give me a brother or sister if you could.” I side-eye the kid. He has no clue how to hold our cards close to his chest.
Cooper sits back and crosses his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow in challenge. “It’s your move, babe,” he says.
Challenge accepted. “Reed, I said that because you asked for one for your fourth birthday, and I couldn’t give you a sibling.”
His head jerks to Cooper. “But Cooper’s here now. I’ll ask again for my next birthday.”
Rapidly blinking with my mouth open again, I’m not sure what he is inferring about Cooper being here now to make a baby happen, and it’s definitely not a conversation I want to have over a game of Life and bowls of Cocoa Pebbles.
I shoot Cooper a hard glare, which makes him laugh.
He sits forward again, resting his elbows on the table. “Don’t worry, I can have that conversation with him,” says the pediatrician. Thank God.
I turn to Reed. “You have Jake. You’re basically brothers.”
“Yeah, but when he turned twelve a few weeks ago, he told me to scram.” He plonks his arms on the table and sticks out his bottom lip.
“I’m sorry, bud.” I rub his arm, hoping to soothe the hurt feelings.
But this whole thing is a lot to think about. “I’m not opposed to the idea. I just need to think about it. Can we back burner this conversation just for a little while?”
Reed and Cooper exchange a look before they start laughing. It’s the high-five that clues me in and gives them away.
These two are peas in a pod. I stand no chance. “I was just set up, wasn’t I?” Reed’s still giggling but gets up from the table. Although he’s up a little later than usual, I say, “We’re not finished with the game. Where are you going?”
“Gotta go, Mom. Cooper got a new tiger book. Roar. He promised to read to me before bed. If I don’t go now, you’ll say lights out before we can.”
Because I’m such the meanie mom. I’m thinking I just moved from the good cop to the bad cop in this relationship.
“Is this just a guy thing, or are moms invited, too?”
Cooper replies, “Moms are always invited,” just as Reed says, “It’s a Cooper and Reed thing.”
Reaching across the table, Cooper covers my hand with his. “You’re always invited. I’m still just the novelty dad.”
“No, you’re more than that, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
When Reed runs upstairs, well-aware that we don’t get to read our books until we brush our teeth and get in our pajamas, Cooper takes his car from the board game. Removing the little peg in the driver’s seat, he puts it in my car next to me. . . .and my four kids.
“Open your hand,” he says. When I do, he places the car on my palm and wraps my hand around it. “It feels like we’ve lived a lifetime, but we’re only twenty-eight. Is it such a far-fetched idea to want to expand our family?”
“You just got Reed in your life, and now you want more kids?”
“I want all the kids I can have with you, but I only want more if you do. That kid upstairs is more than I could have ever asked for.” He kisses my head and says, “You know you’re welcome to read the book with us.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ve been fortunate to have more than five years. I’m okay with you and him making up for lost time.”
He nods and then grins. “I’ll see you upstairs.”
“See you upstairs.”
Little moments that make up the most important times in our lives are what matter, and I’ve been given a second chance. I wouldn’t trade this for a fancy penthouse or mansion on thirty acres. The only thing that bears the legacy that tried to suffocate Cooper is his last name. He’s been given a fresh start and deserves it.
I put away the game but pocket the little car. When I turn the lights and lock the house for the night, I grab two glasses of water, then head upstairs. It’s good to be prepared after a heavy workout. I wink but then realize, like a fool, I’m winking for myself.
When I reach the landing, I’m unlatching the gate when I overhear Cooper say, “You’re turning six soon. What do you want for your birthday?”
“I want a fast car like Mom’s in the garage.”
I laugh to myself. The silence from the bedroom, though, tells me everything going on in Cooper’s head. I’m not sure how hard Cooper is biting his tongue, but I bet it’s painful. I stay long enough to hear Cooper reply, “Yeah, Mom’s car is amazing. I think you’re a little young for one like that, but maybe you’ll get the car when you’re older.”
“Promise?”