Cooper makes his s’more while Ford glances up at the house. “I’m going to miss this place. It was our first real home. Our first safe place. It holds so many memories—I can’t imagine saying goodbye to it.”
“It was one of the reasons Mom and Dad didn’t want to sell initially, because they knew what it meant to you and me, Ford. This house, this safe haven,” Cooper says. “But they can’t keep up with it.”
Ford nods. “I can understand their decision. If Dad can get more help in the city, then I want him to move. A house is a house; we can replace that. We can’t replace Dad.”
“Hey, remember the time you decided to go skinny-dipping with Mallory Henderson when you thought Mom and Dad were sleeping?” I ask Ford.
He throws his head back and laughs. “I can still feel Dad’s fingers pulling me by the ear while I tried to cover up my junk, soaking wet. I think he lectured me for two straight hours.”
“It was a long time. I remember sitting at the top of the stairs while you sat on the couch naked, only a washcloth to your name, because that’s how brutal Mom and Dad were,” I say.
“It was the one and only time I did something I shouldn’t have. And it was all because of Mallory.”
“I would say Mallory and hormones,” Cooper says, taking a bite of his s’more. “Those hormones will get you every time.”
“Speak for yourself,” Ford says. “I recall you getting yourself into a few predicaments.”
“Tell me about it,” I say, butting in. “I’d always hear Mom muttering in the kitchen about how Cooper was going to get some girl pregnant because he used his eyes to his advantage.”
Cooper lets out a belly laugh. “Mom always complained about our eyes. Loved them but said they would be the death of her as well.”
“Well, congrats on not getting anyone pregnant,” I say as I lift my perfectly toasted marshmallow out of the fire. Cooper helps me with my s’more, and Ford makes one as well.
“For the amount of fear Mom and Dad had of us growing up, I think we all did pretty damn well,” Cooper says.
“We did,” Ford adds.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
COOPER
“Dude, the boob book—I remember stealing this on occasion.”
“I’ve never been more fascinated and disgusted at the same time,” Palmer says, lying on Ford’s bed and flipping through the pages for me while Ford buries his head in his hands. “I can’t believe you let Larkin see this.”
“Not like I wanted her to see it.”
“Man, if she saw this and still kissed you after, you found a good one.”
“Yeah, I did, but once again, I fucked it up like everything in my life.”
I sit up. “It’s nothing we can’t fix.”
“We?” Ford asks.
“Yeah, we. I mean, I’m guessing after the other night we’re all suffering in our relationships?”
“You could say that,” Palmer says, sitting up as well.
“Nora’s the same. Wants nothing to do with me. Which means we’re all in the same boat, and we all need to show them that we’re mature enough to be with them. You know, since maturity was seriously lacking during that dinner.”
Ford chuckles. “That was one of those nightmare dinners you see on a TV show that makes you so incredibly uncomfortable, but you can’t look away because you want to see if it gets any worse.”
“Oh, it got worse,” Palmer says. “I think Beau was mortified to be sitting across from me, and I don’t blame him. I don’t blame any of them.”
“So, what are we going to do about it?” Ford asks.
“I have an idea,” I say, my mind whirring through possibilities and plans. “Palmer, do you still have Mom and Dad’s wedding book in your room?”
She thinks about it. “Maybe. Let’s go see.”
Together we file out of Ford’s room and head down the hallway. Ford and I stop at the door when Palmer walks into her room. Her disaster of a room.
“Jesus, Palmer,” Ford says. “Even as an adult you can’t keep your room clean?”
She glances around. “It’s not that bad.”
“I can’t see the floor,” I say.
“You are so dramatic.” She steps over clothes, pushes past some papers strewn across the floor, and then opens her closet by yanking on the doorknob and pushing some blankets out of the way. “You two are welcome to come in.”
I shake my head. “I’d rather not be swallowed whole by your clothes. I have a long life I want to live.”
She rolls her eyes and looks through her closet, pulling a few boxes down until—
“Found it. Want to look at it on my bed?”
“No,” Ford and I say together.
She chuckles and makes her way to the door. I take the book from her, and together we go down to the living room, where I spread it out on the coffee table. Back in middle school, Palmer went through a serious scrapbooking phase. She’d spend hours at the kitchen table putting together memories for the family. One of the first albums she did was Mom and Dad’s wedding album. Mom helped her, of course, and as she started to get better, Mom and Dad invested in more scrapbooking materials for her. But with the wedding album, we’re at the bare minimum of supplies and skills.
“Why did I like scalloped scissors so much?” Palmer asks, wincing at the pictures she cut up.
“I think it looks classy,” I say as Ford and Palmer both give me their snooty looks. I chuckle. “I guess some things will never change.” I flip through the pages until I get to the reception. “This is what’s going to happen. We’re going to re-create Mom and Dad’s wedding. Redo the party. Give them the recognition they deserve.”
“That’s a great idea,” Palmer says. “And we can obviously use this for reference. But how can we pull it off on such short notice?”
Ford smiles. “Well, we have money, after all.”
“You do,” Palmer says.
“You have money too,” I say. “You just haven’t gotten it yet.”
“What?” she says, looking confused.
“When you turn thirty, there’s a trust fund waiting for you. Did you really forget about that?”
Palmer looks between the two of us. “I thought . . . I thought that was lost with the fire. Like, they had to use it to recover.”
“Who did you hear that from?” Ford asks.
“I don’t know; I thought Mom said it, or—”
“I said it,” I say. “I was pissed at you; I offhandedly said it while talking to Dealia, knowing full well you could hear me.” I shake my head. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Palmer.”
“But . . .” She looks so confused. “You mean there’s still money there for me to invest?”
“It’s still there,” I say.
“I don’t deserve that money.”
Ford lifts her chin. “Before the fire, you worked your ass off in the store, and if I have it my way, you’re going to continue to work your ass off.”
“What do you mean?” she asks.