That’s why it was important to him that Charlie love books and become a good reader.
“Which one should we look at first?” Cole spread the books out on the coffee table, amazed at all the bright covers and quirky titles. “I don’t know how you’re going to choose. They all look good.”
Charlie studied them for several seconds then pointed at a yellow book with a monkey on the cover. “That one.”
“Curious George’s ABCs.” Cole read the title as he picked it up.
“My teacher read it to us in class.” Charlie’s voice reverberated with eagerness. “Curious George is always getting into trouble. He’s a funny monkey.”
“I bet he is,” Cole said, smiling.
“You never read it?” Charlie scrambled to sit beside Cole on the sofa. “My teacher said he’d read all the Curious George books by the time he was our age.”
Cole thought for a moment, contemplating how to explain to his son that he hadn’t read a book for pleasure until he was in college. “I didn’t read much as a kid—”
“I don’t, either,” Charlie said immediately. “I don’t like books.”
“I love them,” Cole responded. The last thing he wanted was to turn Charlie against reading. “Where else but in books can you spend time with a pirate? Or a ninja? Or a funny monkey learning his ABCs?”
Charlie’s gaze narrowed. “I thought you said you didn’t read books.”
“My dad had difficulty reading and he didn’t like books in the house.” Cole hesitated. Should he tell Charlie that he’d also had trouble with his letters? Or was that too much information for a small boy to process?
He was still debating in his head how much to divulge, when Charlie spoke.
“We’re learning so many new words now and it’s hard.” A shadow briefly passed across the child’s face. “My teacher says it will get easier.”
“It will.” Cole offered the boy an encouraging smile. While it hadn’t gotten better for his dad, back then no one knew what dyslexia was, much less how to work around it. When Cole had been a boy, it hadn’t been much better.
Banishing the unpleasant memories, Cole picked up the book and flipped it open to the first page, then glanced at Charlie. “Shall we see what Curious George is doing?”
Charlie snuggled up against him. “Yeah.”
“Are you cold?”
“Nope.” Charlie rested his cheek against Cole’s arm. “Uncle Cole.”
“Yes, Charlie?”
“You’re not going to leave me, are you?”
Cole’s heart twisted. Until now he hadn’t realized the depths of the little boy’s fears. “Nope. You’re stuck with me, buckaroo. I’m not going anywhere.”
“What about Aunt Meg?”
With those blue eyes—so like his own—focused on him and shining with blind trust, Cole hesitated, not sure how to answer. While he didn’t want to lie—
“I’m not going anywhere, either, honey.”
At the sound of the feminine voice, Cole turned. Meg stood in the doorway to the kitchen, still wearing the blue wrap dress she’d worn to church. She wiped her hands on a red-and-white-checkered dish towel, the picture of domestic bliss.
“Of course, Uncle Cole and I probably won’t always live in the same house,” she added.
Cole knew there was no probably about it.
Charlie’s brows pulled together in distress. “Are you going to get a divorce?”
Crossing the room, Meg took a seat in the chair opposite the sofa, her eyes looking more green than hazel in the light.
“Do you really want to get into this now?” Cole murmured, his tone making it clear he preferred to wait.
“Yes,” she said in a soft but firm tone. “Yes, I do.”
Her gaze locked with his before she turned her attention to the boy, who was now sitting up straight as a soldier on the sofa.
“Charlie.” Meg leaned forward, resting her forearms on her thighs, her smile open and friendly. “Do you know what it means when a couple gets a divorce?”
“Dana Murray’s parents got divorced. They don’t live together anymore,” Charlie said, clearly warming to the topic. “Dana’s dad has a girlfriend and her mom is really mad. She hates him. Dana hates him, too.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t hate him.” Cole felt a pang of sympathy for Dana’s father, a man he didn’t even know. He couldn’t imagine how he’d feel if Charlie hated him.
“Yes, she does,” Charlie said. “She—”
“What’s happening between Dana’s parents has nothing to do with how they feel about her,” Meg said. “What’s between her mom and dad is grown-up stuff. I’m sure it makes her sad that her daddy doesn’t live with them anymore. But that doesn’t mean she and her daddy can’t enjoy spending time together.”
“But her daddy didn’t even come to conferences,” Charlie said.
Cole raised a brow. “Conferences?”
“I assume Charlie is talking about the parent-teacher conferences they have at school.”
“My mommy and daddy came.” Charlie nodded his head up and down. “Afterward, we all went out for ice cream.”
“Well, even when Uncle Cole and I don’t live together,” Meg said, “we’ll still come to your conferences together.”
She glanced at him for confirmation and Cole reluctantly nodded.
Tears filled Charlie’s eyes and his gaze sought Cole’s. “Don’t live together? You are getting a divorce from Aunt Meg.”
The words came out on a wail. If the boy wasn’t so distressed, Cole might have felt the urge to laugh. To get divorced implied you first had gotten married. He and Meg? Not a chance in hell.
“We’re not getting a divorce, buddy.” Cole gentled his tone and took his son’s hand in his. “Aunt Meg and I are friends.”
The statement was a stretch, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
“We’re only living in the same house now because I need help with my knee,” Cole continued. “And because Aunt Meg hadn’t found a place of her own yet.”
“That’s right,” Meg said. “Hopefully once Uncle Cole is better, I’ll be able to find a little apartment not far away.”
Charlie wiped his runny nose against his shirtsleeve, tears clinging to the tips of his lashes.
“You’ll have a bedroom at your uncle Cole’s place and one at mine.” Meg’s smile appeared forced. “Two bedrooms of your very own. Won’t that be fun?”
Charlie’s jaw set in a stubborn tilt and he whipped his head from side to side. “I like it here. I want all of us to live here together.”
The boy’s eyes might be filled with fire, but the trembling of his bottom lip gave him away. Cole realized that in their desire to be honest with the child, they’d caused him needless worry.
After all, Charlie wouldn’t be shuttled back and forth between two houses; he’d be with him. With his father. But too much had already been said on the topic. Changing the subject seemed wise.