The Reunion(102)

More tears stream down my face as I stand there, staring at his closed door.

How am I supposed to find myself . . . when I loathe myself?





CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE





COOPER


Cooper: Did you make it home okay?

Nora: What do you think?

Cooper: I’m going to guess yes.

Nora: You guessed right.

Cooper: Can I call you?

Nora: I’d suggest not doing that right now.

Cooper: I want to apologize about tonight.

Nora: I figured as much, but I’m exhausted and I’m not in the mood, Cooper.

Cooper: I understand. But I am sorry.

Nora: I’m sure you are. I’m currently draped across my couch in my lingerie I wore for you, eating some ice cream.

Cooper: Fuck. I hate myself.

Nora: Once again, as you should.

Cooper: Are you going to let me take you out again?

Nora: Honestly, I don’t know. Tonight was an absolute disaster. I’m not sure I’m ready to be a part of that.

Cooper: They’re only here temporarily.

Nora: But they aren’t temporarily in your life. You’ve worked so hard at learning how to communicate your feelings, but they are a big trigger for you, a trigger that makes you revert to your old ways. They’re your brother and sister, and at some point you’re going to have to figure out how to effectively communicate with them.

Cooper: There’s too much history.

Nora: That’s what families are . . . history. They’re not perfect. They’re twisted and ugly at times, but it’s how you navigate through those twisted and ugly times that strengthens the bonds you have with them. Your bonds are threadbare at this point.

Cooper: They don’t understand me.

Nora: Bet they feel the same way. You never know until you talk to them. Call me once you do that.

Cooper: Are you coming to the anniversary party?

Nora: To drop off the cake.

Cooper: Can I talk to you then?

Nora: Probably not a good idea. Have a good night, Cooper.



TO: Ford Chance, Cooper Chance, Palmer Chance FROM: Peggy Chance

SUBJECT: Your rooms

My dearest seedlings,

This is a reminder that you still need to clean out your rooms. Ford, you started to clean it out but then left everything on the floor. Palmer, I can’t even walk through your room—there are clothes everywhere. And Cooper, your boxes are still stacked in the corner of your room. Didn’t you say you were going to sell your bed as well?

We really need you kids to follow through on this. Your dad and I can’t do it ourselves. Thank you.

Also, we are so excited about the anniversary party. We love you all for taking the time to plan this party out for us. We could not be more grateful for our three children.

I picked out a dusty rose dress that looks rather fetching on me, and I bought your dad a new pair of pants, no holes in the crotch. We might be old, but we know how to class it up when the opportunity presents itself.

Love you all,

Mom





CHAPTER FORTY-SIX





FORD


My feet pound against the pavement.

The dew from the night before glistens on every blade of grass.

And the sounds of Marina Island waking up fill the peaceful silence surrounding me.

But I feel anything but peaceful.

I feel a war raging inside me. A war I can’t seem to get a handle on.

After leaving countless messages on Larkin’s voice mail, I gave up calling her and went to bed, only to lie there, staring up at the ceiling, sleep eluding me.

And this morning, I woke up feeling empty.

Last night was not how I planned on things going. I planned on staying in Seattle for the night—I even booked us a hotel room so we wouldn’t have to rush to catch the last ferry to Marina Island. I planned on sharing a wonderful dinner with Larkin, maybe stopping somewhere to get ice cream, and then heading back to our hotel room, where I would show Larkin just how much she means to me, how much these last few days have meant to me.

But that was not the case. Instead, I went to bed alone, woke up alone, and now I’m jogging alone.

I turn the corner onto Marina Ave and head straight to the inn with a very simple to-do list: take a shower, get dressed, and find Larkin.

Legs worn out from a seven-mile jog, I make my way up the steps of the inn and take a deep breath. A few diners are in the breakfast area, eating the dry muffins. I move past them and head right up the stairs toward my room—and stop dead in the hallway, my breath catching in my throat. Larkin is sitting next to my door.

When she spots me, she stands and brushes off her backside.

“Larkin,” I say, approaching cautiously. “Have you been waiting long?”

“About ten minutes,” she answers quietly.

“Hell, I’m sorry. If I knew you were coming by, I wouldn’t have left.”

“It’s fine.” I move in even closer, reaching for her, but she takes a step back, sending a wave of fear up my spine.

“I just came here to grab some work. I left my computer in your room.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” I reach into my pocket and pull out my key. I unlock my room door and let Larkin in first. I follow close behind her and shut the door, tossing my key on the table next to the door.