I reach for a strand of my hair, twirling it between my fingers. “Considering I once was a cheerleader, I think I should totally be offended somewhere in that statement,” I answer in a mock bimbo tone.
Tammy ticks her tongue as she pulls at Cora’s sheets, tucking them in around her body like she’s a five-year-old. “If Adam heard you girls going on like this...I think it would warm his heart to hear you getting along so well.”
“Don’t get too comfortable with it,” Cora warns her mom. “I plan to harass them at their wedding, and teach their children horrible habits, maybe give them obnoxious toys that make really loud noises.”
“Us or the kids?” I ask, breaking out in a deep grin.
Cora returns my grin. “I do think we’re going to be friends, eventually. I need a little time for you to grow on me.”
I walk to her side and lean down to hug her in that only awkward way a hospital bed will allow. “Thanks. You know. For being non-douche-y.”
This time when Cora smiles back, her eyes twinkle. “I’d say anytime, but I think I’ll need my other kidney.”
While Adam recovers in the hospital, I drive the hour commute to Rochester from home, a couple nights staying curled in his hospital bed at his side when our favorite nurse lets us by with the violation of hospital rules, and his family isn’t around trying to mend their relationship. In the time I spend with his parents, I learn Adam’s incredibly handsome dad is kind, and has Adam’s good humor, but he’s soft spoken and easily manipulated by his eager to please wife. They treat me like I’m some kind of hero for saving their oldest son, and go out of their way to make sure I’m well fed and rested.
Hopefully their affection for me never wears off.
At Adam’s request, the only visitors allowed are his parents and brother. I can’t say I’m anything other than relieved when Erik takes off after only one day, although when he announces he’s heading back to New York, my jaw drops to the floor. Adam told me his brother just finished his freshman year of college. It never came up where he was going to college. I can’t believe Adam didn’t say anything while we were in the city. I don’t bring this to Adam’s attention, however, because it never seems like the right time.
Eight days later, the doctors clear Adam to go home. Adam’s cousin, Davis—the one who loaned us the pickup truck—offered his spare bedroom to us so Adam could make his regular follow up appointments for the next month. At first my parents weren’t totally thrilled with the plan that involved me living with two men, but I think they eventually accepted that Adam would need my help. I think they finally understand I’m going to do whatever I want at this stage of my life.
When we show up on the doorstep of Davis’s modest apartment, it comes as no surprise that he’s handsome like the other Murphy boys I’ve met. He’s much taller than Adam and his messy hair is a shade of sandy blond, but he has the same square jaw and a slightly darker shade of baby blues. From the moment I first lay eyes on his relaxed posture and grunge-inspired wardrobe, I know he’s bound to be just as laid back and friendly as Adam.
He reaches out to slap Adam’s hand in greeting. “What up, cuz? Looking pretty tough. One of these times they should just install a zipper for all these surgeries they keep putting you through.”
Adam lets out a small chuckle. “Don’t I know it. Thanks again for letting us crash here. Beats staying in a hotel for however long it takes.”
“Anything for my brother from another mother.” Davis’s eyes fall to me. “Jewels.
Finally!” He flashes a row of perfectly straight white teeth. “I’ve been dying to meet the girl who finally talked some sense into my boneheaded cousin.”
“And I’ve been dying to meet the kind soul who loaned us his pickup.” I don’t know what else to say to him, because just like the rest of his family, Adam had very little to say about Davis.
“Hey. Getting to drive his sweet ass Challenger around for a few weeks? Totally worth it.” He takes our duffle bags from me and opens the door farther. “Make yourself at home. You guys are welcome to crash here as long as you want. It’s not the Hilton, but I managed to score a queen mattress from a buddy at work.”
It’s obvious the minute we step inside that Davis is an artist. The couch, television, and kitchen table are all covered with paint-splattered sheets. Murals in progress are everywhere, cans of spray paint lining the tile floor beneath them. The apartment feels smaller than it should because of the total chaos.