33. Leah
33
Leah
M y heart is suddenly invested in every single Bailey ever born.
I cling to my box of orange rolls as I tread up the walkway to Lucy’s home, wondering if Cooper took my advice and asked his mother about Delaney and Miles. Maybe she could give him better insight.
Every summer, I spent time with my grandparents in Puerto Rico. And every summer, my abuelo gave me his little antics. One being, you need your family. Family supports family . It sounds like Delaney and Miles need some support.
I tap on the door of Lucy’s home, feeling less anxious than I did the day before. I am purposely here at 6:15—which means Cooper’s siblings and spouses should be gone. Lucy and the kids I can handle with very few antsy nerves bouncing around inside of my body.
Cooper opens the door, his six-foot, one million inches filling the entire frame. Bergamot and mint waft out into the cool evening air and attempt to consume me—in the very best way. I might choose death by drowning if it’s in Cooper’s cologne. His button-up shirt is open at the collar, and my eyes lock on the triangle of bare skin peeking out at me.
I force my gaze upward. “Hi.”
“Hey,” he says, and I’m pretty sure he just brushed his teeth. I can smell it. Apparently, my superpower is inhaling Cooper Bailey. He is minty, sweet, and oh-so good at making very innocent girls drool.
I swallow and nibble on my inner cheek. I’m not drooling. You’re drooling.
“Oh.” He shakes his head and laughs nervously in a way that would make anyone else think I was here for more than babysitting, for more than decorating cookies. “Come inside.”
“Leah!” Alice says, sitting on Lucy’s couch, head to toe in Taylor Swift pajamas. Her smile falters. “Uncle Coop—” Alice groans, but she doesn’t get out her thought.
Lula bounces on her knees beside her sister and chants loudly, cutting Alice off, “Muncle Poop!” She slaps the legs of her pink PJs, sprinkled with rainbows and clouds.
But Alice isn’t finished. “You said you’d tell her it was a pajama party.”
“He didn’t,” I say, quickly throwing Coop right beneath Taylor Swift’s party bus.
“She’s right. Sorry, princess, I forgot.” He glances at me, and I suddenly understand the old saying— a twinkle in his eye . Coop has one. He forgot nothing—he saved me from the discomfort of wearing my pajamas to this family party.
Don’t get me wrong, I like pajamas. I am a fan. But I’m not quite at the comfort level of wearing my satin two-piece in front of Cooper or his mother yet.
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “I’m super comfy.” I’m not uncomfortable . After work, I changed into jeans—yes, my cute jeans— and my new red top. It goes well with my tennis shoes. And my hair. And it’s Valentine-ish.
It’s possible I changed into one of my favorite outfits, okay?
“Jeans?” Alice says, looking me up and down, that button nose wrinkling.
She does not believe I’m comfortable. Not for one second. She isn’t even impressed with the cutest shirt I own.
“Jeans are not comfy. My BFF Amanda taught me that jeans are cute. But I know comfy, and jeans are not it.”
“Really?” Cooper says, and he’s putting the best curious tone into his voice. “I think jeans are very comfy.”
“You’re a boy.” Her eyes flick to the ceiling like this is Cooper’s excuse for everything he does wrong.
“And a lawyer. I went to school for a really long time. Doesn’t that say something in my defense? Come on, Alice, I’m a smart guy.”
Alice sighs. “I guess.”
“Besides, I heard there was a cute boy in your class this year.”
Alice’s blue eyes bug out. But she says nothing. Uncle Coop just hit a nerve.
“Gross, Coop,” I say.
“Yeah,” Alice says. “ Gross .”
I wrinkle my nose and throw a thumb over my shoulder toward her uncle. Then, in a long, exasperated sigh that I am certain Alice will appreciate, I say, “ Boys .”
Alice shakes her head. “Sometimes they’re the worst.”
My lips twitch, but I rein back my smile.
“Hey,” Coop protests.
“And sometimes they’re nice,” I tell her, all while my peripheral keeps an eye on Cooper.
“That’s true. I have a lot of uncles, and for a long time, it was just me and Dad.” She lets out a tired breath—like this means she’s been through a lot. Maybe she has. “They do have some positives. For my whole entire life, Miles has been bringing me M&Ms. Owen buys the best birthday gifts. Uncle Levi needs a lot of advice. I’m always helping that guy. Plus, he lets me run the remote.”
“And Uncle Cooper?”
Her eyes switch to Cooper, and her lips pull into a wide grin. “He’s the most fun to play with. He doesn’t just let me win at Sorry. He kicks me off every time he can.”
“You bet I do,” Cooper says.
“So, when I beat him—and I always beat him”—she grins at her uncle, wide and sassy—“I know that it’s because I’m the very best.”
“Hey, I won once. And who always wins at Mario Kart?” Cooper plops onto the couch beside her, wrapping one arm around her and pulling her in for a side hug.
“Because you cheat!” Alice laughs.
A soft fluttering moves in my chest, and a swirl bubbles in my stomach as I watch the exchange.
“Someone should probably teach him a lesson,” I say to Alice. And then, despite my better judgment, I hold out a hand, offering to help Cooper from the couch. “Help me put these orange rolls away?”
“Orange rolls?” Alice says. “I hope you brought Silvia!” She peers over at her little sister who is too enthralled by the cartoon dogs on the television to pay us too much attention. “We love Silvia, don’t we, Lula?”
Lula leans her head on Alice’s shoulder, her eyes still on the screen.
Cooper reaches for my outstretched hand, sliding his soft, warm palm against my own until my fingers wrap around his .
I swallow and give his hand the smallest of tugs. It’s not enough to lift that giant man from his seat, but he stands. He could have just as easily pulled me down onto his lap. And my betraying head says that doesn’t sound too terrible. But he doesn’t do that. He’s smart. He just stands, keeping his hand in mine.
That’s when my heart decides to work overtime.
I wrap my hand holding the rolls a little tighter around the bakery box, letting Cooper lead me into his mom’s kitchen. Pins and pricks race from his hand that holds mine up into my arm and shoulder, landing in my chest with a small explosion. There is a firework stand operating inside my chest, and Cooper’s hand is a lit fuse.
With that explosion, a thousand questions flood my brain for Cooper. Because I want to know everything.
How are things going with Mr. Macias?
Does he ever plan to move out of his mom’s place? If so, when? Where?
Does he plan to leave town once he’s back on his feet?
Is he going to tell his mother the truth about the job in Seattle?
Did he talk to Delaney again? Or Miles? Or his mom? Did he figure out how to help?
What are the chances he’ll ever try kissing me again? Especially since I told him not to.
I gulp down that last one and ask what’s most pressing: “How’s Delaney? How’s Miles? Did you talk to your mom?”
“I talked to my mom last night.”
“She knows?” I knew it. Those Bailey men love their mother—that was clear after one afternoon with them.
“Yeah, she knows. She’s hard to keep secrets from, and she’s always got some wisdom for us.”
“Hmm, so does that mean you’re the only one not fessing up your struggles to her?”
Cooper’s eyes narrow and his chest deflates. “Most definitely.”
I squeeze my hand in his. One problem at a time. “What did she say?”
“You were right.” He squeezes back, and pins and needles spread out over my entire body. “They just need some love and some support. Mom thought I guessed the news. She said Delaney doesn’t want the family knowing just yet.”
My throat clenches. An ache forms in my neck, and my eyes sting with unshed tears. “I’m sorry. Poor Delaney. Poor Miles. Lucy thought you guessed?”
He nods. “Believe me, when it comes to things like babies and marriage, I’m not intuitive.”
“I think you are. More than you realize. You love them and you want to help. You don’t need to be more intuitive than that.”
I know this isn’t his trial, his struggle—not personally, but it is his family, and I can see the heartache on his face for his brother, for the pain of his sister-in-law, for the loss of something yet to be. I can’t just stand here.
I loosen my hand from his hold and move my arm around his waist. I attempt to pull him into a side hug—very friendly-like—but Cooper’s arms have other plans. They slide around my back and pull me against him. He holds me so tight that I’m unsure he’ll ever let go.
Cooper buries his face into my neck and hair, clutching me close. My cheek is pressed against his T-shirt. Man and musk and bergamot surround me. I wrap my loose arm about his waist, feeling the contours of his strong back as I hold him like he holds me. I’ve put on my Cooper Bailey-shaped Snuggie, and I may never take it off.
“Wait a minute,” says a skeptical ten-year-old voice. “I thought you guys didn’t like like each other. Because it looks like you do. Uncle Coop, if you’re dating, you’re supposed to tell me. Didn’t we already go over this?”
I let go of him, my arms falling to my sides, but Cooper doesn’t release his hold on me. The bristles of his beard tickle my cheek as he moves himself upright. He pivots to the side, leaving one arm over my shoulders.
“We did. We went over that request in detail. I am never ever to date a girl without first getting your opinion on her,” he says, reciting Alice’s demands. “You’re right. I know better.”
“Hey!” I nudge Coop with my elbow, but his arm around me keeps me snug to his side. It’s a very pathetic nudge. “We aren’t dating, Alice. Your uncle hasn’t broken any promise to you.”
“Are you sure?” She tilts her head as if to look at me from a new angle. “Do you know what dating looks like, Leah?”
I swallow. “I do. I know. I?—”
“Because it looks kind of like that.” She nods her head toward me. “I know because my mom—not Coco, but my other mom,” she clarifies for me, “dates a lot . Like a lot a lot. So, I’m kind of an expert.”
That’s right, Coco’s her stepmom. I almost forgot.
“It’s true,” Cooper says, buttering the girl up. “She is the expert.”
I attempt another elbow nudge—but being so close to Cooper’s side makes it less impactful than I’d like it to be.
Alice nods, peering at her uncle as if his word is final on the subject.
“Well, we’re just friends. Friends can hug, right?” I ask, my eyes a little too wide, and yet I can’t seem to close them up. It’s difficult as my brain was nowhere in the friend zone during that hug.
“Hmm. Maybe,” she says.
Do friends get all fluttery on the inside with one another? Because that’s going on over here too. And do friends’ biological clocks begin to tick whenever one friend touches the other friend? Because if I’m being honest with myself, my ovaries get excited every single time Cooper walks into a room. Is that normal, Alice The Expert Taylor?
“Leah’s right,” Cooper finally says. “We’re friends. Good friends. Friends who help each other out, friends who hang out with one another’s families?—”
“You’ve never met my family,” I say.
But Cooper keeps going. “Friends who support each other. Friends who definitely hug.”
Alice crosses her arms. “I’m not convinced.”
I laugh, loud and fabricated. “Where’s your grandma? Isn’t Lucy hanging out with us too?”
“She’s rocking York. He’s fussy at night.” Alice shakes her head again. “ That kid. I do not know what we’re going to do with him. But I do think my parents should probably stop having children.”
“Oh yeah?” My brows knit.
“We just can’t risk another one like him. Not all babies will be as lovely as me or even Lula.”
I press my lips together, smothering a chuckle. “You really do have all the answers, don’t you, Alice?”
She grins. “I really do, Leah. I really do.”