Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Cooper
The restaurant was too warm, the conversations too loud, and the lights too dim—or maybe that was just me.
Seacliff Steakhouse was my father’s choice, naturally.
The same place we’d been going to for family celebrations since I was a kid, where the menu hadn’t changed in twenty years and neither had my father’s opinion of me.
I tugged at the collar of my button-down shirt and already regretted my decision to dress up. I was uncomfortable enough with this dinner as it was without feeling like I was being strangled. The familiar scents of grilled meat and spices wafted through the air, but my knotted stomach rebelled.
“Uncle Cooper!” Lily’s voice cut through my anxiety as she spotted me approaching the table in the back. She bounded toward me, her light curls bouncing with each step, arms outstretched for a hug. “You came!”
I scooped her up, grateful for the enthusiastic welcome. “Of course I came, munchkin. It’s your dad’s birthday, isn’t it?”
Over Lily’s shoulder, I could see the rest of the family already seated at a round table. Ryan stood with a genuine smile, while my parents remained seated, their postures stiff.
“Uncle Cooper, I made Daddy a card and put glitter all over it,” Lily informed me as I set her down. “Grandma says glitter has a shelf life longer than Twinkies. What does that mean?”
I bit back a laugh as my mother’s face tightened.
“Lily, we don’t repeat everything we hear,” Ryan said quickly, shooting our mother an apologetic look.
“It’s what you said when I got it on the couch,” Lily replied innocently.
Ryan’s ears reddened. “Let’s sit down, shall we?”
I greeted my brother with a hug and clapped him on the back. “Happy birthday, Ry. Sorry I’m a few minutes late.”
“You’re right on time,” he assured me, relief clear in his eyes. He’d probably been enduring our parents’ company alone for at least twenty minutes.
My father stood reluctantly and extended a hand for a formal handshake instead of a hug. “Cooper.”
“Dad.” I shook his hand, a familiar distance in the gesture.
My mother offered her cheek for a perfunctory kiss. “You look tired, dear. Are you getting enough sleep?”
And so it began. “The coffee shop opens at six. Early mornings are part of the job.”
“Well, it certainly shows,” she said with a taut smile.
We settled around the table, with Lily insisting on sitting next to me. Ryan sat on my other side and created a buffer between me and our parents. The server arrived to take drink orders, and I requested sparkling water. I knew I’d need my wits about me for this dinner.
“No wine?” my father asked, one eyebrow raised. “It’s a celebration, after all.”
“I’m opening the shop tomorrow morning.”
“Surely you have employees for that.” My mother smoothed her napkin across her lap. “That Jessica girl seemed competent enough when we stopped by.”
Jessica would laugh herself sick at being called a “girl” at twenty-five. “She is competent, which is why I like to model the work ethic I expect.”
My father made a dismissive noise. “That’s the problem with small businesses. They own you more than you own them.”
My jaw clenched, but I forced a smile. “I like being hands-on.”
“Uncle Cooper makes the best hot chocolate.” Lily came to my rescue without realizing it. “He puts cim-a-nim on top and draws pictures on Daddy’s coffee.”
“That’s called latte art, sweetheart,” Ryan explained.
“Cooper’s always been artistic.” My mother’s tone suggested this was not necessarily a compliment. “Remember those pottery classes we signed you up for?”
“I remember you pulling me out when the instructor had long hair and an earring,” I said, unable to keep the edge from my voice.
Ryan cleared his throat. “So, Dad, how was that golf trip to Arizona? You mentioned the courses were exceptional.”
I shot him a grateful look as our father launched into a detailed breakdown of his golfing adventures in Scottsdale. But his enthusiasm for golf quickly morphed into another topic entirely.
“Speaking of the club in Scottsdale.” My father set down his wine. “I met a fellow with a daughter about your age, Cooper. Lovely young lady, works in finance. When are you going to meet a nice girl and settle down? You’re not getting any younger.”
The question hit like a poorly tamped espresso shot—bitter and unwelcome. I stared at my father, momentarily speechless.
“Dad,” Ryan warned quietly.
I carefully slipped my phone out of my pocket and made sure it was on silent. My fingers moved over the keyboard in my lap.
Dad just asked when I’m going to “meet a nice girl.”
I hit send, then tucked the phone back into my pocket. A small weight lifted from my chest just by sharing the moment with Jack. He’d understand how absurd this all was.
“I think we’ve had this conversation before.” I kept my voice level. “Several times.”
“Your father is just concerned about your future,” my mother interjected. “We both are.”
The appetizers arrived—calamari and bruschetta for the table—providing a momentary respite from the conversation. Just as I was beginning to relax slightly, my phone vibrated. I slid it out and surreptitiously glanced at Jack’s response.
I’m just a text away if you need an emergency extraction. Want me to quickly get in drag and stop by?
The corner of my mouth twitched upward involuntarily. Jack had been offering me emergency extractions from uncomfortable situations since college. I quickly typed back.
You’re the best.
“Cooper, are you texting at the dinner table?” My mother’s voice cut through my moment of relief. “That’s hardly polite.”
I slipped the phone back into my pocket. “Sorry. Work thing.”
“Always working,” my father commented. “Though I’m not sure running a coffee shop counts as a career.”
My fingers tightened. “The Coffee Cove is doing well, actually. Last quarter was our best yet.” I’d been able to pay my brutal loan payments. But my finances were still on the edge.
“That’s wonderful!” Ryan said quickly. “I told Dad how packed it was last weekend when we stopped by.”
“It’s certainly a…quaint little place,” my mother said with the faintest emphasis on little.
I took a deep breath and reminded myself of the promise I’d made to Ryan. Keep it civil. Don’t rise to the bait. I’d been navigating these waters for years. Even so, each interaction felt like being scalded by steam.
“So, Cooper,” my mother began with forced casualness, “I ran into Linda at church last week. Her daughter Melissa is back in town. Single, I might add. She’s a doctor now.” She paused, her smile too bright. “Maybe you could give her a call.”
The table fell into an awkward silence as I realized where this was going. My mother’s eyes lit up with interest, while my father’s gaze pinned me in place.
“Cooper’s very focused on his business,” Ryan interjected smoothly.
“Nonsense,” my father said. “A man your age should be settling down. Giving us grandchildren. Melissa sounds perfect—smart, career-oriented, from a good family.”
“And female,” I added flatly. “Which, as I’ve mentioned for the past sixteen years, isn’t my type.”
The temperature at the table seemed to drop by ten degrees. My mother’s smile froze in place, and my father’s jaw tightened.
“Cooper,” my mother began in her let’s be reasonable voice, “you know we only want what’s best for you.”
“And what’s best for me is pretending to be straight?” The words slipped out before I could stop them, sharper than I had intended.
“No one is asking you to pretend anything,” my father said stiffly. “We’re simply suggesting that perhaps you haven’t met the right woman yet.”
The familiar argument washed over me like stale coffee, cold and unpalatable. I felt my throat tighten, the rehearsed responses dying on my tongue. Sixteen years of this, and they still couldn’t accept the most fundamental truth about me.
“Uncle Cooper, what does ‘straight’ mean?” Lily piped up, her innocent question landing like a bomb at the table.
Ryan choked slightly on his wine. “It means, um—”
“It means Grandpa and Grandma want me to date girls instead of boys.” I met my father’s glare head-on. “But I like boys, just like your daddy likes girls.”
Lily considered this for a moment, her forehead scrunching in concentration. “What’s wrong with that?”
A startled laugh escaped me, the tension momentarily broken. “Exactly, munchkin.”
Ryan’s shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. My parents, however, were not amused.
“This is hardly an appropriate dinner conversation,” my mother said tightly.
“I agree.” Ryan came to my rescue. “Mom, did I tell you Lily had an excellent parent-teacher conference?”
As Ryan diverted the conversation, I excused myself to use the restroom. Once safely behind the locked door, I pulled out my phone and typed.
Mom keeps talking about her church friend’s single daughter. Not subtle. Contemplating hiding in the bathroom. Send coffee. Or whiskey.
Jack’s response came quickly:
I’ll bring both. And a fire extinguisher for when things get heated.
I smiled, and some of the tension drained from my shoulders as I typed back.
Don’t know what I’d do without you, Anderson.
Thank God I’d never find out. Jack was my rock, and I’d never do anything to jeopardize that.
I splashed some cold water on my face, took a deep breath, and returned to the table.
The main courses had arrived during my absence, and I settled in to focus on my salmon, having lost my appetite for anything heavier.
Ryan masterfully kept the conversation flowing.
I focused on my food and contributed just enough to appear engaged while internally counting the minutes until I could leave.
“So, Cooper,” my mother said during a lull, “have you given any thought to expanding beyond coffee? Perhaps a bakery or a small café? Something with…growth potential?”