Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79499 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79499 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“Then we have to tell her how we feel. We have to show her that we’re worth it.”
“Worth losing her mom.”
“It won’t come to that.” Danny drops his fork as though he’s suddenly lost his appetite. He sounds so decisive and convinced, but I know my brother. He’s as worried as me that pressure from Cora’s mom will be too much for her.
“I know this is new, but I have this feeling about Cora and this situation that I’ve never had about another woman,” I admit.
“A feeling of home?” Danny asks.
It’s such a shock that he’s articulated exactly what has been just an unexplained sensation in my chest and couldn’t put a label to. “Yes. Exactly.”
“Well, she is living in our place. None of us has done that before.”
“It’s not just about the roof over our head…it’s more than that.”
“It is,” Danny says. “It really is.”
That night, when I return home from work, I find everyone in the den eating something that looks home-cooked.
“Your dinner is in the kitchen,” Cora says. “I made pasta.”
“It’s delicious,” Tobias says, stuffing in another forkful.
“Thanks.”
I make my way into the kitchen and serve myself from a pot on the stove. It smells of garlic with basil and sweet tomatoes. There’s even some grated parmesan in a bowl. This kicks the ass of takeout food.
When I find my way back to the den, I make a point of sitting next to Cora on the couch. “Good day?” I ask, glancing at her out of the corner of my eye, wanting to check her response for anything that might be worrisome.
“She’s been busy,” Alden says. “There’s a lot to do. Dustin handed over another seventeen orders that came in after the show.
“Really? That’s so awesome.”
“I’m flapping,” Cora says, using her fork to stab the pasta in front of her but not lifting it to her mouth.
“No need to flap. Just write a list of everything you need to do and check it off as you go. If you need help, just ask. You have five huge dudes here at your disposal.”
“Exactly,” Alden says, as though they’ve already had this conversation before I arrived. “Whatever you need.”
“You can’t help me with the orders,” Cora grimaces. “I’ve seen all your pottery skills.”
River clutches his chest. “You wound me.”
With a roll of her eyes, Cora finally eats a mouthful of her dinner. And so do I.
It’s as delicious as I thought it would be.
“By the way, I brought your pots home, and I’ve put them in your rooms upstairs.”
“Ugh,” Danny groans. “I don’t want that monstrosity disrupting my aesthetic.”
“It doesn’t look bad,” Cora smiles, but I think she’s just being kind.
“Don’t pander to him,” Tobias says. “And Danny, you sound like a douche.”
“Coming from a man who still showers with his buddies,” Danny says.
My brothers continue their back-and-forth comments, which mostly remains good-natured, and I eat, remaining hyperaware that Cora is lost in her thoughts. Every so often, someone will drag her into the conversation, but her replies are short, and she returns to quiet contemplation.
I want to tell her that I know what she’s worried about. I wish I had something to reassure her that everything would work out alright in the end. I want to tell her we’re worth whatever it’ll take to keep us all together. She needs to look at this moment the way I am, as a perfect end to an ordinary day, something that we’ll all be happy to replicate over and over.
But there isn’t anything I can do to make her feel better.
When she rests her fork in her dish, having only eaten half the portion she served herself, I shake my head. This inability to know how to help Cora is driving me mad. I like to be in control. I thrive on logic, but relationships aren’t logical. Love can’t be calculated by a series of equations, and what makes it work can’t be predicted using a formula.
“It’ll be okay,” I say, reaching out to squeeze her knee the way I tried this morning. This time she doesn’t flinch, but her shoulders sag.
“I hope so,” she whispers softly. “I really hope so.”
I really do, too.
23
CORA
Why does the universe do this?
Things start off great, and then it’s as though the rug has been ripped from under my feet, and I land flat on my ass.
I turn into Danny’s pillow, inhaling the scent of his ridiculously masculine cologne, stretching my limbs, and sighing. Since Mom called, I haven’t been able to face up to what she said. I haven’t wanted to imagine what it would feel like if I have to move out and never see the Carlton brothers again.
I’ve done what I always do when life gets tough and buried my head in the sand. I spent last night letting them fuck me into oblivion because while I was coming, I wasn’t thinking about real life and what needed to be done.