from now she’d know whether or not she needed to pee on a stick. She kept telling herself not to get her hopes up, but each morning when she woke, the first thing she thought of was that this time next year she could be a mother.
They were passing by the Creekside Park and Playground when Cooper reached out and put his hand on her arm. “Hey, why don’t we stop and eat? There are a few picnic tables here, and our food’s getting cold.”
“You want to eat in the dark? Are you crazy?”
“By the time I walk you home and get back to my truck, my stuff will be cold.”
“You didn’t have to walk me,” she pointed out.
“Yes, I did.”
She recognized that tone. Cooper was charm itself, but he was also incredibly stubborn. Not only that, but she was so hungry her stomach was actually hurting, and the food smelled unbelievable. “Fine. You’re going to pester me until you get your way, anyway.”
They crossed the grass to a picnic table and Melissa spread out the paper bag as a place mat. Cooper took the spot across from her and began pulling take-out containers from his own bag. She gaped as she counted three: an extra-large one holding his burger and fries, a medium-sized one with onion rings that smelled fantastic and a smaller one with the Wagon Wheel’s special recipe coleslaw.
“You’re going to eat all of that? Yourself?”
“I’m a growing boy.” He patted his flat belly and opened the container holding his burger.
She shook her head. “It’s a wonder you’re not the size of a barn.”
She picked up her plastic fork and dipped it into the mashed potatoes and gravy. The food wasn’t piping-hot any longer, but was still quite warm, and as she tasted the first bite she was struck by a pang so bittersweet it made her heart ache.
This was something they might have done in the old days: a bunch of them together, some takeout, hanging out on a Saturday night. Only it wasn’t a bunch anymore, but just she and Cooper. Some of their circle of friends had drifted away, some had left Cadence Creek and gone to work in bigger towns and cities. So little of the past remained. In some ways it was good, but in other ways, Melissa missed it. Up until things had blown apart, there’d been a lot of good times.
“You okay?” Cooper asked, pausing to look at her while holding a French fry.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking about when we were kids, and some of the stuff we used to do on a Saturday night. It sure wasn’t picking up takeout because we were too tired from dealing with ‘real life’ to cook.”
He chuckled. “We all have to grow up sometime. At least mostly.”
He held out the box of onion rings. “Have one. You know you want to.”
She wasn’t sure if she was glad that he remembered her fondness for onion rings or not. It was too much to resist as he waved them under her nose. She reached into the package and took out a round battered ring. When she bit into it, her teeth caught the onion and it came out of the batter. She pulled it into her mouth like a piece of spaghetti.
Cooper laughed. “Good, right?”
“So good,” she admitted.
He put the box between them on the table, an unspoken invitation to share. A peace offering? Was he hoping that the deep-fried treat would accomplish what time had not? It was a big thing to ask from a carton of onion rings.
For the moment, she chose to cut into her meat loaf and peas and carrots.
They were quiet for a few minutes, eating and listening to the breeze whisper through the leaves that still remained on the poplars lining the creek. She didn’t know what to say to him. Talking about the past would only bring up the painful way her marriage had broken apart. And anything else seemed…contrived. Awkward. He ate his burger in silence as she finished her meal, then he handed her another onion ring before taking one for himself and dipping it in ketchup.
“You still like doing that?” she commented.
“Yeah. Ketchup should be a food group all by itself.” He put his empty containers in his bag. She did the same with hers and they left the picnic table, stopping at the garbage cans to deposit their waste.
“Feel better?” he asked quietly.
She did, surprisingly. It wasn’t just the food, either, although she’d been very hungry. She’d had a few moments to breathe, to unwind. Funny how he’d seemed to know she’d needed that. Or maybe she was reading too much into his motives. Maybe it truly was all about eating his dinner while it was hot.
“I do feel better,” she admitted. “I was pretty spooled up after my day.”
“Give me five more minutes, okay? Come with me.”
She frowned but followed. He led her over to the swings. “Sit down.”
“Okay, now you’re being silly. I just want to go home and get off my feet.”
In response, he sat on the swing beside hers. It was set low for kids, and his long legs folded up like a frog’s, but he pushed off anyway and put it in motion. “This gets you off your feet. Look.” He held his booted feet up in the air. He looked ridiculous.
She felt foolish, but sat down and scuffed one shoe in the dirt, making the swing rock a little.
“Hold on to the chains and lean back.”
“Cooper, you’re crazy.”
“Do it, Mel. Lean back and then open your eyes.”
She pushed with her foot a little harder, then gripped the chains between her fingers and leaned back. The breeze from the motion ruffled her hair, making bits of it feather across her cheeks. Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked up.
There were stars. Not too many, but a handful that seemed to rock in the sky as she swayed back and forth. When had they come out? Sometime between leaving the restaurant and eating her dinner in the twilight.
The sky was so big, so endless. She heard a loud sigh and realized it had come from herself. As she watched, more stars appeared out of nowhere. One second vast emptiness, then the next time she looked, pop. There they were, twinkling down at her from the infinite blackness.
“Make a wish,” Cooper suggested.
Her throat tightened. What in the world was she doing, sitting on the swings in the dark with Cooper Ford? “I’m too old for that nonsense. Besides, that’s for the first star you see, and there are at least two dozen right now.”
His voice was low and warm beside her. “Then make two dozen wishes. Wish on every one.”
“Cooper…”
She knew it was stupid and juvenile, but she couldn’t resist. She closed her eyes and made a wish.
Let this time be the one.
All she really wanted was to be a mom. She’d wanted it when she was married to Scott,
