“You’re exactly right, Cora,” he continued, his voice trembling slightly. “That’s called relative velocity. It’s a very important concept.”
“Are you a teacher?” she asked, tilting her head. “You sound like a teacher. Momma sounds the same, but she works in the office.”
“I was a teacher,” Cooper said. “But I’m on a sabbatical.”
She frowned over the new word. “What’s sub-bat-ical?”
He chuckled. “Just a fancy word for taking a break. I need to figure out what to do in my next chapter.”
“Like a book?”
“Exactly like a book.”
Scarlett appeared in the doorway then, her expression unreadable as her gaze roamed over the room before settling on them. He wondered what she thought of him sitting here discussing fancy words with their daughter, her workbook in his lap. The tension was palpable and he wondered who would break it first.
“Hey, Bug.” Scarlett opened her arms and Cora bounded into the hug. “Thanks for yourpatiencethis morning.”
Cora giggled. “I made a circus bear,” she declared. “He’s my new best friend.”
Sothat’swhat it was. Cooper studied the Lego creature again with better understanding. He needed to get better with the questions, and fast, to fit into her life.
“And did my math too.”
“Good for you,” Scarlett praised. “Lessons are over. Would you like to have a picnic with the fairies while Mr. Cooper and I take care of a couple of things?”
“Maybe.” Cora sent her mom a sly glance. “After the picnic can we go to the beach?”
“Maybe,” Scarlett said, mimicking her daughter’s tone. “Let’s see how the afternoon goes.”
Invited to help prep the picnic, Cooper washed his hands and then sliced up cherry tomatoes while Scarlett made a peanut butter sandwich, letting Cora drizzle the honey. Soon, Cora was settled outside, telling the fairy garden about her day.
Cooper struggled to tear his gaze away. “She’s incredible, Scarlett. Truly. The way her mind works... it’s like looking at a miniature version of you,” he added softly as they walked toward the back of the house.
Scarlett snorted. “Not even close.” Her guard slipped just a fraction, enough to reveal a flash of maternal exhaustion. “Every day she resemblesyoumore. When I look at her, staring back at me with your eyes, I’m so in love with her and so lost over you at the same time.”
Her honesty surprised him.
“I wish you’d told me.” He stepped closer, drawn to her.
She backed away. “Some days, so do I.”
He could see the faint spray of freckles across her nose and the pulse jumping in the hollow of her throat. “We could try a fresh start,” he suggested. “Just two people reconnecting.” Couldn’t she feel the spark? He was sure the chemistry was as strong as ever, but he wouldn’t push his luck and drive her away before they even had a chance.
“I’m not sure there’s a solution to this one, Cooper,” she whispered.
Just his name on her lips sent a jolt of heat and awareness through him. On reflex, he reached for her. He’d had that right once. Now, he needed to earn it back. “Show me what you need.” Her eyes went wide, her lips parting. “With the house,” he clarified. “I’ll fix what I can today, then we’ll take Cora to the beach.”
“All right.” She led him around to the back steps and pointed out the bit of rot near the bottom tread. “We had a lot of rain this winter and I haven’t gotten around to it.”
“I’ll handle it,” he promised. He considered this task a win because it meant he’d have to get supplies and come back. “Anything else?”
Scarlett hesitated, then nodded. “The garden gate sticks when it rains.”
“Not for much longer.” With a smile, he went back around for his tool box, taking a minute to chat with Cora.
He marveled at her imagination, her sheer, fresh happiness. She reminded him so much of his youngest sister at that age.
Scarlett was clearly doing all the right things, raising such a bright and confident child, but Cora had extended family who would love to know her, to include her. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins.
