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.