Coda Books 06 - Fear, Hope, and Bread Pudding (MM)

her, Cole sent me off to the store for a dozen different last-minute items, including one of every kind of juice or soda they had, since he couldn’t serve her wine. He was more nervous than I’d ever seen him, but it wasn’t until I returned home that I realized how bad things were going to be.
    “Cole?” I called when I didn’t find him in the kitchen. I wondered briefly at the unattended pans on the stove and the food strewn across the countertops. “Cole?” I left the bags of groceries on the counter and went in search of him. I finally found him in our bedroom, standing in front of the closet, swaying in the breeze. “What are you doing?”
    He turned to stare at me with wide, scared eyes. “I have no idea what to wear.”
    I laughed, although it died in my throat when I saw the hurt expression on his face. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with what you have on?”
    He looked down at himself. He was dressed as he often was—slim-fitting pants and a silk V-neck sweater in pale green. He’d been wearing a scarf around his neck earlier, but it was nowhere in sight. And I was surprised when I glanced down at his feet. He was wearing both socks and shoes.
    “I think what you’re wearing is fine.”
    “Don’t you think I should find something more”—he waved his hand in circles—“appropriate?” He turned to face our closet again. “I wish I had a real suit.”
    I flashed back nearly three years to the night we’d gone to the theater. I’d expected him to wear a suit, and he’d said, “not even if this was my own funeral.” And yet now here he was, suddenly wanting one. His unease was contagious. A dark sense of foreboding began to bloom in my chest. “You don’t need a suit.”
    He turned to face me again. He reached up to touch the hair that fell across his eyes. “This too. I think I should have had it cut.”
    “No.”
    “But Jonny—” He flipped his bangs out of his face, and what I’d thought was only a shadow on his right temple revealed itself as a small bruise.
    “What happened to your eye?”
    He put his fingers on it. “I ran into the pantry door.”
    “You what ?” It was so unlike him to do anything clumsy. It was proof of how flustered he was. “How did that happen?”
    “I was cooking dinner and—Oh my God!” He put a hand to his cheek. His expression of dismay was so comically dramatic, I might have laughed if I hadn’t known how serious he was. “Good Lord, I forgot all about dinner! I hope it’s not ruined!”
    Five minutes later, I knew without asking that dinner was a mess. The stovetop was spattered with sauce, the air tinged with smoke. Cole’s normally unflappable demeanor was in shambles by the time the doorbell rang. “I can’t meet her like this!”
    “It’s too late to change anything now.”
    “We could reschedule!”
    “Are you serious?”
    No, he wasn’t serious, but he was panicking, something I hadn’t actually thought Cole was capable of. I wished like hell my father was around. I was sure he would have been able to defuse the situation.
    I let Taylor and Thomas in while Cole stood wringing his hands behind me.
    Taylor Lewis appeared older than her twenty-two years. Then again, it might have been the enormous belly and waddling walk that threw me off. She had long hair that was too dark to be called blonde but too light to be called brown. She was average height and had probably been average in weight as well, but now her stomach stuck out ahead of her in a way that had to be horrendously uncomfortable. It made my back ache just looking at her.
    “Have a seat,” I said. Our living room wasn’t very homey, but given her condition, it seemed rude to make her walk all the way through the house to the family room at the back. She sank into one of the chairs, although she didn’t look much more comfortable sitting than she had standing. “I’m Jonathan.”
    She shook the hand I held out to her. “Taylor,” she said. “But you know that.”
    “Nice to meet you.”
    I let go of her hand and stood there for a second, feeling awkward. What was I supposed to say now? I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so uncomfortable. In social situations, Cole was usually ahead of me, talking a mile a minute and charming people before I had a chance to speak, which begged the question, where was he now?
    I turned to find him still frozen in the middle of the room, staring at Taylor. “Cole?”
    He jumped into motion as if I’d