Chapter four
Tori
*2 months later*
“Muffins, Willow. Someone left a basket of muffins on my front porch.”
I fold another one of Cooper’s T-shirts before sliding it into the drawer of his dresser.
“Were they good muffins?”
“Yeah. Delicious.”
Willow lets out a huff. “Then what’s the problem? You moved to Dogwood Cove to be closer to your parents. You’ve been welcomed by everyone from the mayor, who happens to be your landlord, to the old guy running the hardware store, to some crazy lady wearing a weird hat. Now someone’s dropped off muffins, and you’re complaining? Welcome to small-town life, T. Everyone knows your name and your business, but everyone wants to help you out as well.”
Well, when she puts it like that, I guess I do feel like an idiot. “It’s just weird. No one would ever do this in the city.”
“Because no one bothers to get to know their neighbours in Vancouver. It’s pointless with how big most apartment buildings are.”
“That’s not fair, I knew my neighbours,” I protest weakly.
I swear I can hear Willow roll her eyes over the phone as I pick up a pair of Cooper’s shorts, noticing a hole in them and putting them in the discard pile.
“That’s because you’reyou.You want everyone to like you, and to feel like you belong wherever you are. But what you’ve always missed is that it’s not up to everyone else to decide whether you belong, it’s up to you. When you finally find the place where you can relax and just be yourself, then you’ll fit in and belong, wherever the hell you are.”
Tears prick my eyes. Willow’s the best kind of friend. The kind who will hold you when you break, but not let you get away with being a self-deprecating idiot.
“I miss you.”
A soft sigh comes down the line. “I miss you, too. Good thing it’s just a short ferry ride between us. I’ll come over the weekend after next if you want. Help finish unpacking since Lord knows your living room is probably stacked full of boxes.”
I wince at that all too accurate statement. “Thanks, Willow.”
“Thank me with one of your mystery muffins.”
I hang up the phone a few minutes later, and once Cooper’s clothes are finally put away, I go in search of the kid himself. At almost eight years old, he’s pretty independent, and the second we moved into the house and he discovered the tree house out back, he took off, declaring it his space.
“Coop? Let’s head into town and get some groceries, bud. Mom needs tea and you need cereal if we’re gonna survive tomorrow morning.”
His dirty blonde head pokes out of the window of the tree house, his latest comic book in hand. “Can I get Honey Nut Cheerios?”
My smile is automatic. How I got so lucky with him, I don’t know. “Sure can. But only if you pick some fruit to go with it.”
He grimaces. That’s the one challenge Cooper and I have — getting him to realize there’s more to eat than just sugary cereal and peanut butter sandwiches. Vegetables might as well be a dirty word in his mind, and even fruit is a struggle.
“Apples.”
“Deal.”
Once he’s buckled into the back seat of the car, and I’ve run back inside to grab the cloth shopping bags, we head out for the quick drive to the Grab N Go. According to Ethan Monroe, town mayor and my landlord as Willow pointed out, it’s the only grocery store in Dogwood Cove. I’ll have to head to Westport soon for a bigger stock up shop, but for now, we’ll grab the essentials here.
I’m so happy with my choice to move here instead of Westport, where my parents have been for the last decade. It’s a nice city, don’t get me wrong. But the second I saw the town square here in Dogwood Cove, with an honest-to-goodness white gazebo in the middle, I knew this was where I wanted Cooper and I to live. It’s small-town without being redneck, quaint and friendly without being oppressive. And when we toured the elementary school, the principal assured me there were tons of kids Cooper’s age.
Sure enough, when we drive past the school where Cooper will start next week, the playground is full of kids outside on their recess break. “You ready for school, bud?” I ask, my eyes checking his reaction in the back seat.
He’s always been outgoing and friendly, but I can’t imagine how he feels starting over in a new school with just a couple of months left in the school year. I debated waiting until the summer, but the city started feeling claustrophobic.
Probably had something to do with my ex deciding he was ready for the family life a few years too late forourfamily. Not that I’d ever actually wanted to marry Tim and settle down with him, heck no. He was never Mr. Right, just Mr. Right Now. Still, when those two pink lines showed up a few weeks into our dating, I figured he would at least want to be a part of our son’s life.
