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“Of course I’m serious. What is it?”
“Okay, rich boy, I’m gonna take you somewhere you’ve never been and blow your mind.”
I smile back at him, his enthusiasm contagious.
“Fine. I’m game. Take me to this dollar store, Matthew and blow my mind.”
Chapter Ten
Matt
“Is this place for real?” Coop gasps, and I bite back a grin.
“Yep. This is the dollar store.”
His mouth opens and then shuts. “You never told me. What does that mean?”
“It means everything in here is a dollar or less.”
His eyes are like saucers as we walk down the aisles.
“I need a cart. I’m a millionaire, Matthew. I’m going to buy it all.”
A laugh escapes me as he turns and jogs outside, returning with not one but two carts.
“Coop,” I say with a grin. “What are you doing? Half this stuff is junk.”
“Yeah, but it’s a dollar, Matthew. My world has been turned upside down. I’m a new man.” He rolls a cart to me. “Now push this, babe. I have things to buy.”
I watch him with rapt attention as we make our way down each aisle and he inspects everything, placing them in his cart.
“This lube is only a dollar, Matthew. I wonder if it’s any good. We’ll have to try it.”
“Oh my god. It’s remote control poop. It farts. Listen.”
“A pregnancy test. Sure, why not?”
“Escargot.”
I’m not sure I should let him buy that, but I don’t say anything. When I tried to reason with him about the maxi pads he plugged his ears and scowled at me.
By the time we make it to the register, both carts are full and the poor kid behind the counter just sighs, his shoulders slumping. Coop isn’t even apologetic about it, although he does leave the guy a hundred-dollar bill on the counter. A tip, he calls it.
My head shakes in disbelief the entire way home, bags of junk rolling around in the trunk and at my feet.
“I can’t believe I went my whole life not knowing about the dollar store.”
“Yeah, well when you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.”
“There were cans of fish, Matthew. In brine. That’s… I’m so intrigued.”
“We are not eating that. If we do, we may die.”
He giggles and turns to look at me, reaching out his hand. “I’m incredibly happy. I don’t want to die, so that will just go in the cupboard and nowhere near a plate.”
“Thank god,” I say as I hesitantly slide my fingers between his. His hand squeezes mine, and I turn my gaze to the window, watching the city go by as he drives us back home.
I just can’t get over being touched. It’s too much. And yet, at the same time, not enough.
