10. Cooper
10
Cooper
L ula has cut off all the circulation in my leg. York keeps smacking me with the spoon Leah gave him, and Alice is looking at me like I’m a cinnamon roll bully instead of her hero taking her on a fun outing this morning. And then, of course, there’s Arnold, who may have a tracking device on me, because both times I’ve shown up here, he’s here too, waiting for me to buy him breakfast.
I’m getting two more rolls than I originally asked for, but at this point, I don’t even care. I was hoping to take my nieces and nephew out for a fun morning, all while possibly impressing a sour Leah Bradford. But no one is having fun, and no one is impressed.
“Uncle Coop, can we eat here?”
“You’re an uncle,” Leah says, taking the credit card from my hands. Her brows lift as she runs my card again—I have no idea how much my total is. She never tells me. One day my bill is going to come and I wouldn’t be surprised if I’ve paid Leah thousands. She grunts out a humorless laugh. “Huh. Not a very good one. ”
“Hey,” I say. “I’m a great uncle.” I look to Alice for help just as York smacks me in the eye with his spoon.
Alice peers at Leah, shrugging one shoulder. “He’s had better days.”
The girl with long pink hair, wearing a denim Sweet Swirls apron passes Arnold his roll and then holds out the larger box to me.
“Alice, could you—” I start just as I get yet another smack from York.
My niece huffs. “I told you he was trouble. I told you not to bring him.”
“Muncle Poop! Muncle Poop!” three-year-old Lula chants from where she grapples onto my leg.
For the first time since I reconnected with Leah Bradford, a hint of a smile lights up her face.
“Have a great day, Muncle Poop ,” Leah says.
I don’t even mind. My logical, very intelligent brain tells me I shouldn’t like this beautiful woman calling me Muncle or Poop, or any combination of the two. But Leah just smiled—well, almost. And it was truly something. That almost-smile is like a lit torch in a once-darkened room.
It’s one hundred percent worth a little name-calling.
“Are we staying here?” Alice says.
“Not this time,” I tell her. “Maybe next time, when we come without your brother.”
Leah crosses her arms, watching the four of us like we’re a circus act.
“Come on, everybody.” I start for the door, with York smacking me in the face, Alice grumbling at my side, and Lula tangled around my leg. I’m limping more than walking, dragging along my right leg weighed down by Lulabelle.
But I make it out, head high, knowing I made Leah Bradford smile. Almost.