Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 128430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“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?”
“I promise, but we’ll have to talk Mom into it.”
“You can. All I get is brush your teeth, live a good life, do your homework, and I love yous.” I’m still grinning like a loon. If that’s the worst the kid’s got, I’m doing a pretty damn good job. “But if you ask her, she’ll listen.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because she gets all gooey when you talk to her.” Reed sounds so annoyed.
Cooper chuckles, but then says, “I get kind of gooey myself . . . wait. Never mind. Come on. Lights out.”
I hurry to set the glasses in the bedroom and then make it sound like I’m coming up the stairs and stomp across the hall. Peeking in, I knock on the open door. “May I enter?”
When Reed looks at me, his little smile, that’s looking more like Cooper’s every day, hits me in the feels. “I’m ready, Mom.”
I cross the room. “Mom? Now I’m just Mom? What happened to Mommy?”
His shoulders bounce from the bed. “I’m almost six.”
“Yes, you are. Can I be Mommy until then?” I tickle his ribs.
“Yes. Yes,” he says, wriggling.
I lean down and kiss his cheek. Looking at him, I tap his nose, and say, “I love you.”