“I’ve only talked to him that one time, actually,” I said. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“I bet you’ll have plenty more opportunities to talk to him! I’ve bumped into him in town and stuff before.”
“So…there’s no girlfriend or anything? Declan’s mom?”
Amy shook her head. “No. And you know, I’ve heard a couple different things about what happened there; I’ve never asked him about it, obviously. That would be so weird, like, Hi, you’re here to pick up Declan, but before I let you sign him out, why don’t you tell me what the story is with his mother?” She giggled. “Talk about awkward!”
“What are some of the things you heard?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Hmm, let’s see. I heard that Declan’s mother cheated on Cole a bunch, but she was the love of his life, so he kept taking her back, and then she finally ran off with this guy, another doctor, but older. I’ve heard different variations of that one from a couple people. I also heard that his parents, who are super well-off, didn’t like the mom because she was from a working-class family, so after she had the baby, they basically paid her off.”
I frowned. “That’s terrible. And hopefully not true.”
“Yeah, I don’t know if I believe that one. It sounds like such a soap opera or something! But it is a little weird, don’t you think? That it’s just him?”
“I don’t know,” I said, shrugging. “It’s not that weird. The single parent thing is pretty common.”
“I just mean that a guy that good-looking, you’d think he’d be with someone.”
“Just because you’re good-looking doesn’t mean you’re not a complete asshole,” I said. Amy had a slightly horrified look on her face. “I’m not saying that he’s an asshole,” I added quickly. “From what I know, he seems pretty nice. I’m just saying that being good-looking doesn’t mean you’re always going to be with someone. That’s all.”
“Right,” she said, though she gave me a funny look like she thought maybe I didn’t know what I was talking about after all.
Chapter Two
Cole
I stood at the end of the driveway, watching as Declan proudly rode his little 16-inch bike without training wheels. I was trying to appear more awake than I felt. We lived on a quiet street, so he was weaving from one side to the other, pedaling wildly, a grin on his face.
“Lookin’ good, buddy!” I shouted as he turned a 180 and came zooming back toward me. It was Saturday morning, bright and sunny, the air warm with a refreshing breeze. Declan and I had been up since 7, and I tried not to start thinking about past weekends, years ago, when I’d sleep in until sometimes 10 or 11. I couldn’t remember the last time that I’d slept in that late.
Declan came to a wobbly stop in front of me, sliding off his seat first though, and putting his foot
down.
“See, Dad?” he said. “I did it the right way.”
“You did,” I said. “And you look great. Uncle Ben will be here later, and he’s going to think it’s about the coolest thing ever to see you riding your bike. Did you know there are some 4-year-olds that have never even ridden on a bike before, never mind ride one without training wheels?”
He nodded. “Maybe I can help them,” he said.
I smiled. He was always so willing to help other kids. “That’d be nice of you. You’d be a good teacher.”
He looked past me, toward Allie’s house. “Like Miss Allie,” he said. “She’s a really good teacher. Hey, can I go over and show her how I can ride my bike?”
I glanced over my shoulder. Her car was parked in the driveway, but the front door wasn’t open, and there didn’t seem to be any signs of life indoors. I imagined her slumbering peacefully, no alarm set, waking up whenever her body decided it was time to.
“Maybe not yet, bud,” I said. “It’s still on the earlier side. If we see Allie out later, you can show her.”
“Will you ride your bike with me?”
“Sure,” I said. I went into the garage and got my bike off the stand. I’d been a pretty serious road cyclist since high school, though that had definitely taken a back seat since Declan had arrived. I didn’t bother to put my cycling shoes on or a helmet; I just swung my leg over the top tube, settled myself into the saddle, and remembered how glorious it used to feel to wake up late, throw on my kit, hop on the bike, and ride for 80, 90 miles.
It was a little torturous, being on the bike but not being able to just ride in the drops, pedaling as hard as I could just to get into that zone where it felt like you could go on forever. It almost felt as though the bike—a carbon Domane—was quivering underneath me, like a Thoroughbred on Derby day that was being held back while all his brethren raced onward without him.
Declan pedaled after me, his legs going three times as fast as mine. I coasted, letting him catch up.
We rode to the end of the street and then back, and as we approached the driveway, I saw that Allie had just walked out the front door toward her car. Declan saw her, too, and swerved right in front of me. I braked hard, almost endo’d, but since I wasn’t clipped in, ended up sliding off the saddle and smashing my balls right against the top tube. The word FUCK reverberated through my head as I gritted my teeth and tried to keep from falling to the ground and curling up in the fetal position. It didn’t seem that Declan or Allie was aware of the agony I was in, so I tried to pretend that everything was perfectly fine and I didn’t feel like I was suddenly going to hurl that morning’s coffee all over the side of the road.