Coda Books 06 - Fear, Hope, and Bread Pudding (MM) by Marie Sexton

Author:Marie Sexton [Sexton, Marie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B00D749D1I
Published: 2013-10-02T16:00:00+00:00

AFTER a bit of discussion and a couple of phone calls, it was decided that Thomas would bring Taylor to our house for dinner. The day we were to meet her, Cole sent me off to the store for a dozen different last-minute items, including one of every kind of juice or soda they had, since he couldn’t serve her wine. He was more nervous than I’d ever seen him, but it wasn’t until I returned home that I realized how bad things were going to be.

“Cole?” I called when I didn’t find him in the kitchen. I wondered briefly at the unattended pans on the stove and the food strewn across the countertops. “Cole?” I left the bags of groceries on the counter and went in search of him. I finally found him in our bedroom, standing in front of the closet, swaying in the breeze. “What are you doing?”

He turned to stare at me with wide, scared eyes. “I have no idea what to wear.”

I laughed, although it died in my throat when I saw the hurt expression on his face. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with what you have on?”

He looked down at himself. He was dressed as he often was—slim-fitting pants and a silk V-neck sweater in pale green. He’d been wearing a scarf around his neck earlier, but it was nowhere in sight. And I was surprised when I glanced down at his feet. He was wearing both socks and shoes.

“I think what you’re wearing is fine.”

“Don’t you think I should find something more”—he waved his hand in circles—“appropriate?” He turned to face our closet again. “I wish I had a real suit.”

I flashed back nearly three years to the night we’d gone to the theater. I’d expected him to wear a suit, and he’d said, “not even if this was my own funeral.” And yet now here he was, suddenly wanting one. His unease was contagious. A dark sense of foreboding began to bloom in my chest. “You don’t need a suit.”

He turned to face me again. He reached up to touch the hair that fell across his eyes. “This too. I think I should have had it cut.”

“No.”

“But Jonny—” He flipped his bangs out of his face, and what I’d thought was only a shadow on his right temple revealed itself as a small bruise.

“What happened to your eye?”

He put his fingers on it. “I ran into the pantry door.”

“You what?” It was so unlike him to do anything clumsy. It was proof of how flustered he was. “How did that happen?”

“I was cooking dinner and—Oh my God!” He put a hand to his cheek. His expression of dismay was so comically dramatic, I might have laughed if I hadn’t known how serious he was. “Good Lord, I forgot all about dinner! I hope it’s not ruined!”

Five minutes later, I knew without asking that dinner was a mess. The stovetop was spattered with sauce, the air tinged with smoke. Cole’s normally unflappable demeanor was in shambles by the time the doorbell rang.

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