7
RORY
Cooper drove, Ivy sitting up front beside him so we didn’t get lost in the endless maze of cul-de-sacs and tree lined streets in her picturesque Seattle suburb.
My foot kept bouncing as we drew further and further into the labyrinth of ranch-style homes and closer and closer to our daughter.
Our daughter.
Since the rental car was short on leg room, my knee kept hitting the back of Cooper’s seat.
“Would you quit it? You’re making me nervous,” Cooper said.
“Then join the club,” I muttered. I wasn’t too macho to admit that I was nervous. Hell, I was scared shitless. We had a f*****g daughter. The phrase had been repeating on a loop since the moment we found out. It was like my brain thought that if it repeated the phrase enough, it would suddenly register and make sense.
It was
