Page 92 of We Are Never Getting Together
He smiled but didn’t seem convinced.
I nudged my knee into his. “You think I’m materialistic? That’s the problem?”
“It’s not that I think you’re materialistic. I just can’t forget that money is what my parents always fought about. It’s what broke them up. My dad never earned enough for my mother, and she had a lot lower expectations than you probably have.”
My dad and Ms. Nash had talked about their exes in the backyard when they’d been out s’moring that first night. I’d heard them discuss the reasons things had ended. And my father, who’d always been more than eager to pass on life lessons to me whether I wanted to hear the lecture or not, had made a point to use the Nashes’ divorce as just one more example in his arsenal of advice.
“Cooper,” I said, “your parents didn’t divorce because your dad didn’t make enough money. They divorced for the same reason my parents divorced, and my parents had more than enough.”
Cooper shook his head. “I heard the fights. They were all about money.”
I took his hand in mine, not because he needed the comfort, but because I did. “The money was secondary. They were fighting because your father was never around. All of his jobs took him away for long periods of time. And when he once again chose oil rigs over staying with your family, she figured she was low on his priorities and decided things were over.”
Cooper stared at me for several seconds without speaking. “How do you know that?”
“My window faces the backyard, and when it’s open, I hear what people say at the fire pit. Don’t look at me like that. Listening doesn’t count as eavesdropping if your father reiterates points from the conversation later in an attempt to save you from future mistakes.”
Cooper let go of my hand and rubbed his jaw, his blue eyes disbelieving. “If that was the reason, why didn’t my mother tell me that’s why she filed for divorce?”
I shrugged. Who knew all of a parent’s reasons? “It’s probably easier to claim irreconcilable differences than tell your kids they aren’t as much of a priority to the other parent as they should be.” It wasn’t a thought I liked admitting. “In my case, my father didn’t have to break that news to me since I’d already figured it out. I guess that’s one of the downsides of wealthy parents. You know your mom didn’t have to take a job in a different country to make ends meet.”
Cooper leaned against the couch, though he still lookedtense. “On Saturday night, my dad told me he’d just been trying to earn enough to make her happy. He was trying to be a good husband and father.”
“Apparently she would’ve been happier with more time and less money.” I put my hand on his knee. “He came back. That’s a really good sign.”
Cooper relaxed a little. “Yeah, it is.”
“All of that is to say, I don’t care whether you make it to the NFL or not. There are other careers you’d enjoy.”
He covered my hand with his, threading our fingers together. “What if we could never afford a Jacuzzi?”
“I’d live. But I would expect massages.”
Cooper smiled and leaned forward to kiss me. I pressed my hand to his chest to slow him. “Are we a couple now?”
“Yeah,” he said. “That’s what we decided, isn’t it?”
Had we? The boy was bad at his end of thedefine the relationshiptalk. I expected him to ... I wasn’t sure what. I knew he wouldn’t profess his love in sonnet form like Romeo did to Juliet, but I still needed more. I lifted our still-twined hands. “Are you going to hold my hand at school?” I paused, knowing the answer. “I mean, would you if you didn’t have that policy of no PDAs?”
“I’ll hold your hand at school,” he said.
I blinked at him. “You will?”
“Yeah,” he said and gave me a kiss that was worthy of a sonnet.
Talking about our relationship, I decided, was overrated.
He finally raised his head and glanced at his watch. “You need to get changed or we’ll be late.”
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“I made reservations at the Fire Grill.”
It was a sweet gesture but unnecessary. We’d just been discussing money, and he’d told me on the day we spoke backstage that he couldn’t afford that sort of restaurant. “You don’t have to take me there.”
“Our first real date should be special,” he said.
“It already is,” I said and kissed him again.
