Page 120 of Lips Like Sugar

“Thanks, Benji.” Cole knew he was a walking, barely talking, wide-open wound right now, but hearing everyone around him apologize for it, for the mess he’d made of everything, made him desperate to snap out of it. He needed something to help him move on, something to remind him of who he was and what he wanted, especially since what, or who, he really wanted didn’t want him back.

Dragging his phone out of his pocket, he punched out a text.

Cole: Hey Nancy. Can we talk?

* * *

It wasodd that Nancy hadn’t responded, since she usually texted back the second he’d pressed send. But when he pulled into his driveway, seeing her Escalade sprawled sideways in front of the garage, taking up so much space he couldn’t park in there even if he’d wanted to, he realized why.

Walking through the door, tossing his mail and his keys down on the counter, he followed the sound of voices to the nursery and knocked on the door.

“Oh look,” Nancy cooed to Ruby when he opened the door. “It’s grumpy Grandpa.”

“Ha ha,” Cole deadpanned, unable to hide his grumpiness even long enough to prove Nancy wrong. Because she wasn’t wrong. He was grumpy, and sad, and miserable. And he had no one to blame but himself. He was the one who willingly entered a sex-only relationship, caught every feeling imaginable, and just assumed Mira had too.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor with Ruby while they stacked colorful plastic blocks on top of each other, Nancy squinted up at him. “Not to be too blunt, but you look like shit.”

“Thanks, Nance,” Cole said, sarcasm dripping from every word.

“Mom, don’t swear in front of the baby.” Becks handed Ruby a red block. “I don’t want her first word to be a chain-smoking curse.”

Nancy rolled her eyes. “I don’t smoke anymore, and…sorry, fine. I’lltrynot to swear.”

“It’s actually good you’re here, Nancy.” Cole leaned against the crib.

“It is?” Nancy and Becks asked at the same time, equally dubious.

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I wanted to talk to you. To both of you, actually.”

“Oh god.” Nancy looked horrified. “Are you sick or something? You’re sick, aren’t you? I cannot handle that type of shi—stufftoday.”

He raised his hands. “No, I’m not sick. Calm down.”

“Well, we’re of the age,” Nancy said distantly. “For beekeeping and heart disease. And like I said, you look like…poop.”

Accepting a very slobbery blue block from Ruby, Becks stacked it on top of the other slobbery blocks and asked, “What did you want to talk to us about?”

Cole rolled his neck, preparing himself for the punishing gravity of the words about to leave his mouth. “Nancy, I want to take the gig. I’ll come drum for you on your tour.”

“You what?” Becks cried, which made Ruby cry. “Oh no, baby,” she soothed, scooping Ruby into her arms. “Shh, it’s okay. Grandpa’s just being ridiculous.”

“I’m not being ridiculous,” he said while Nancy assessed him, her eyes narrowing by degrees. “Your mom needs a drummer, and I need a break from Seattle”—and everything else—“for a while.”

Giving him a look he couldn’t begin to decipher, Nancy said, “Wow, Cole. That’s amazing. Thank you.”

“You’re wel—”

“But,” she cut across him, letting the moment stretch, “I’m going to have to pass.”

“What?” he blurted out, some good old-fashioned outrage coursing through him.

“You’re not hired.” Nancy picked up a light blue block, pointed it at him. “Sorry, Cole. But I don’t want some mopey, lovesick puppy dog who’d be wishing he was somewhere else the entire time shi—poopingall over the mood in my tour bus.”

Mildly offended, he put his hands on his hips, and said, “That’s… I wouldn’t…poop—”

“Dad, come sit with us.” Setting Ruby back down near her blocks, Becks tapped the floor beside her. “We need to talk to you about something too.”

“We?” he asked, suddenly suspicious. “What do you mean?”

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