Chapter Thirty-One
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
LIESEL
W e’re all teary when Coop introduces us to his family, even my big, dumb brothers. If they had any lingering doubts about what a great guy Coop is before this, they’re gone now. Seeing him with his mom could thaw anyone’s heart.
He’s holding his mom, tears rolling down his cheeks, and beaming brighter than the setting sun against the snow.
“Michelle, John,” my dad says after they’re introduced, “would you want to come inside?”
Coop’s mom’s eyes flit around the backyard and I can almost see the moment the panic sets in.
“Or is there space for all of us in your RV?” I ask. “I’ve always wanted to see one.”
The look of gratitude on Coop’s face is mirrored by his dad’s.
“There’s plenty of space,” Coop’s dad says. “Come on in.”
We all stomp through the snow and out to the driveway, where a huge RV is parked. My dad and brothers go in after Mr. and Mrs. Kellogg, and then Coop and I join them.
Coop’s parents are sitting on one side of a dinette table, while my dad is sitting across from them. My brothers are at a small sofa. Coop is about to sit in the driver’s seat when he looks at the roof and his eyes light up.
I laugh. “Mistletoe?”
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Coop says, dropping me into a dip. “Now we can make out with impunity.”
“You really can’t,” my dad says.
“Not the wisest move, son,” Coop’s dad agrees.
Coop’s mom is laughing at all of us, and the happiness on her face makes me feel like I’m glowing from within.
Coop pecks my cheek, and I laugh. “We should let you guys celebrate together,” I say.
“Oh, please stay,” Coop’s mom says. “The three of us have spent enough Christmases alone. I didn’t come all this way to go back to where we were. Of course, you’re welcome to go into your house, and we can go to?—”
“You’re welcome to park here and use our facilities. And we’re happy to hang out as long as you can put up with us,” Dad says. Then he smiles. “You’ve raised a fine young man.”
“No take backs!” Coop says, pointing at my dad.
“He’s okay,” Coop’s dad says. “A bit of a punk sometimes.”
Everyone laughs except Coop’s mom, who defends his honor and then pulls out some games. Coop’s dad turns on a football game on the TV in the background.
“Why don’t I go grab snacks?” I offer.
“I’ll come help,” Coop offers.
We head outside to see that the snow has started falling again, but the flakes are soft and fluffy and take forever to melt when they land on my eyelashes. When we get into the mudroom, I start shaking off, but Coop stops me.
“What—” He puts his hands on both sides of my face, pulling me toward him, and then his mouth fuses into mine. His kiss is hot enough to melt us together. All of our tension—our constant push and pull—syncs up perfectly in an intricate dance of kissing, nibbling, smiling, and laughing. I feel his cheeks lift in a grin as he slides his hand up my cheek and into my hair, knocking off my hat. Fingertips press against my scalp, making me sigh and fall into him, as happy as I can remember being in a long time.
I don’t beat myself up for feeling happy. The fact that I’ve gotten to this point at all is a miracle nearly as big as Coop’s mom being here.
It’s Christmas, and my mom’s gone, but I can still be happy. It’s not betraying her to enjoy the things we loved together; it’s honoring her. Every laugh is a tribute to the legacy she left me and my family. And it’s taken Coop to help me see that.
“You’re amazing, you know that?” I say.
“I do,” he says. “But feel free to list all the reasons you think so.”
“I should let my brothers beat you up a little,” I laugh.
“Only if you promise to kiss me better.”
“I can do that.”
He drops his face and kisses me again, slowly, his lips lingering tenderly on mine. “I need to say something, and I want you not to freak out.”
My eyes fly open to see his closed ones. “Okay …”
“I think I love you.”
I smile and close my eyes again, letting my lips brush against his. “Oh, that? Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Why don’t you?”
“Why don’t I what?” I ask, our breath mingling together in puffs of warm mist.
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“The circumference of the earth is twenty-four?—”
“Something else.”
“A cloud weighs around a million?—”
“Liesel.”
“Yes, Coop?”
“Tell me you love me.”
“You’re not the boss of me.”
“LIESEL SUGAR PLUM FISCHER.”
“Yes?” I ask, my lips very much on his.
“If you love me, kiss me.”
I kiss him.
He grins. “I knew it.” I kiss him again. “Oh, wow. You love me a lot ,” he says.
“Nah, I just thought it would finally shut you up.”
“Never,” he says.
Then our voices stop but our lips keep moving in a conversation all on their own.
And I love every word.