The Sixth Wedding (28 Summers #1.5)(12)

“She had a light inside her,” Coop says. “A funny, innocent light. A good person light.”

“I should have left Ursula and married her,” Jake says. “There were dozens of times I wanted to do it, but I was afraid. I was afraid of life without Ursula, I was afraid your sister would turn me down, and I think we were both afraid that once we were officially together, our love would seem regular, and like regular love, it would die.”

“Remember that one year Mal and I met you at PJ’s at Christmastime and the two of you were dancing by the jukebox? I should have figured out what was going on with you two back then.”

“You should’ve,” Jake says. “But you were too busy chatting up Stacey.”

Coop splashes him. “I’ve got first shower.”



Right before dinner, Jake gets an idea. He searches through the cabinets until he finds a mason jar and then he goes out the back door and snips the last remaining hydrangea blossom off the bush and puts it on the harvest table as a centerpiece.

Now it feels like Mallory is there.



They all sit at the narrow table, which is lit only by votive candles. Jake recalls the year Mallory decided to use tapers and one fell while Jake and Mallory were in the bedroom fooling around and the cottage nearly burned down, and one of the firemen who showed up was Mallory’s ex-boyfriend, JD.

After he finishes his second glass of wine, he considers telling this story, but it feels too precious to share.

Leland says, “Let’s go around the table and say which of Coop’s wives was our favorite. My favorite was Tish.”

Cooper laughs. He really is a good sport, Jake thinks. “Tish was my least favorite,” Coop says. “She was in love with someone else when she married me—her ‘family friend,’ Fred from San Francisco. They’ve been happily married for over twenty years and have a business flipping houses in Nob Hill. Their daughter goes to Stanford.”

“My favorite was Valentina,” Fray says. “She was a sweet woman.”

“Sweet,” Coop says. “But using me to escape an arranged marriage.”

“Did she go back to Ecuador?” Jake asks.

“Oh, yes,” Cooper says. “I’m not sure if she ended up with Pablo. That was the guy her parents wanted her to marry. I haven’t heard from her in nearly twenty-five years.” He stabs a piece of steak with his fork. “It seems surreal that I could have stood at the altar at Roland Park Presbyterian and taken a lifelong vow to stay with someone and then that person and I split a few months later and I never see or hear from her again.”

Leland digs into her twice-baked potato. “I hate to say this but I can’t even remember who wife number four was. Did I meet her?”

“Tamela,” Coop says. “Poli sci professor at Georgetown. She had three teenagers that took up a lot of her time and energy. One was gender transitioning. Her first husband was killed in a highway crash, the kids were devastated, and they resented me. We eloped in Antigua. That was romantic, but then it was back to reality, and reality was challenging.”

“How long did that one last?” Jake asks. He can’t remember much about Tamela either. He does remember Coop eloping, because Ursula had been relieved to be spared another wedding, and Jake had felt robbed of a chance to see Mallory.

“Two and a half years,” Cooper says. “The irony is that I’m still in touch with the kids. They love me now.”

“Amy was nice,” Jake says. He met Amy at a Johns Hopkins alumni event in DC. She had kind brown eyes and a way of tilting her head to let you know she was really listening to you.

“That was the problem,” Coop says. “Amy was nice, sweet, accommodating, eager to please. There was no mystery, no intrigue, no edge.”

“And that’s what you’re attracted to?” Leland asks. “You fall in love with the edge? The crazy parts, the dangerous parts?”

“I’m not sure,” Coop says, draining his wine. “I’m not sure what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Coop,” Leland says. “I mean, this group isn’t exactly filled with spokespeople for successful relationships.”

Jake frowns at his plate. It’s true that he and Ursula are divorced—but that they stayed married for so long feels like a success. However, he would say his most successful relationship was the one he had with Mallory. He’s probably deluding himself.

“I notice nobody chose Krystel as his or her favorite,” Fray says.

Coop groans. “Krystel.” He whistles. “In some sense, Krystel is the reason we’re all here. Thirty years ago, when we did this the first time, Krystel called and demanded I come home.”

Oh yes, Jake remembers it well. He’s always wanted to send Krystel a thank-you card. It was because of Krystel that he and Mallory got together.

Cooper says, “I wonder how life would have been different if I’d just ignored Krystel when she called. What if I stayed and went to the Chicken Box like I was supposed to? Maybe she would have called off the wedding, and maybe without making that first mistake, I could have avoided the others as well.” Coop leans in toward the candlelight; his face, now weathered with age and experience, glows a pinkish-orange. “If I’d stayed on the island on this night thirty years ago, so much would have been different.”