Page 23 of Dear Debbie

It was so easy to tell when Izzy was lying when she was little. When she was about three years old, she stole some chocolate chip cookies from the kitchen, and she swore her innocence, but the whole time, her lips were stained with chocolate and cookie crumbs. Little kids are so clueless.

She’s a much better liar now, but I have no doubt that she didn’t quit soccer. She would never quit soccer.

“You’re not going to call Coach Pike, are you?” she asks in a worried voice.

“Of course not.”

“Because that won’t change anything.”

“I told you, I’m not going to call him.”

“You swear?”

“I swear.” I let the oven door bang closed. “Do you think I don’t have anything better to do than call your coach? He probably wouldn’t even answer the phone anyway.”

Her shoulders relax after my reassurance. “I’m going to do my homework. I’ve got a ton of homework this year.” The fog in her eyes clears slightly. “So it’s actually better I don’t have soccer.”

Bullshit. But okay, I’ll pretend to believe it if it makes her feel better. “Izzy?”

She avoids my gaze. “Yeah?”

I consider asking if Coach Pike ever peeked in on the girls in the locker room the way Lexi’s friend said he did. But I have a feeling that even if it’s true, she’ll never tell me the truth.

“Do you need any help with your homework?” I finally ask.

“Nope.”

She never does.

Izzy doesn’t ask me about my own day, but that’s not surprising. She couldn’t care less about my day. She’s a good kid, but it doesn’t matter to her that my magazine photo shoot got co-opted. She might care that I lost my job at the newspaper if it means less money for the family, but we’ve got Cooper’s job to rely on, so it probably won’t even register.

It’s not worth mentioning, honestly. My kids have more important things to think about than their mother’s drama. Besides, I can handle it.

Izzy gives me one last suspicious look, because she knows that I’m not good at leaving things alone when I’m upset over them. But she doesn’t question me further. After a minute, she picks up her backpack and heads in the direction of the stairwell.

I always keep my promises to my children. I promised Izzy I wouldn’t call her soccer coach. And I won’t.

I’m going to drive down there.

17

COOPER

After five miles on the treadmill, I don’t feel any better.

I used to run track in high school and the beginning of college. I was pretty good for a while, although I had some issues during my last two years of college and I dropped off the team. And later, I graduated and then got married, and especially after I had kids, I didn’t have time for exercise.

When you’re in your twenties and even thirties, you can stay in pretty good shape without hitting the gym. But at forty? Forget it. So when Jesse suggested the two of us join Titan Fitness, I decided it was time to get back in shape.

Jesse and I have been holding each other accountable. We both wanted to get back in shape, so we made sure to hit the gym at least three times per week. Jesse is better about it than I am. He often stays later than me, and today, he practically had to drag me here. Come on. It will make you feel better.

He’s usually right. Working out at the gym has been great for me in more ways than one. Jesse does a mix of weights and cardio, but I usually stick with the treadmill with just a little bit of weightlifting. Still, the difference is noticeable. Not only in my strength and endurance but also in my appearance.

After I cool down on the machine, I towel off the sweat on my face. Even though I’ve got a sweatstain on my collar, I notice a woman on the elliptical giving me an appreciative look. I look back for just a little too long, and she winks at me. That’s when I quickly avert my eyes and hurry over to where Jesse is lifting weights.

“I’m going to head out,” I tell him.

Jesse puts down the weights and takes a long chug from his water bottle. He wipes his mouth and looks up at me. “Are you okay, Cooper? Do you want to go out for a drink or something?”