Covering Kendall(81)

“Your mama should love this. My mama hasn’t taken hers off since I gave it to her.”

“What’s in the other bag, guy?” Drew dug the cash out of his wallet and handed it to Brandon.

“I got my wife a high-heeled shoe charm for her bracelet.”

“That’s nice,” Chuck said.

“What’d you do?” Neil said, and the men sitting at Drew’s table burst into laughter.

“Well, it’s actually what I didn’t do.” Brandon passed one hand over his face. “I told my bride that I would handle things with our twin sons yesterday so she could go to some shoe sale at Nordstrom with her mama and her sister—”

“That was your first mistake,” Chuck joked. Brandon grinned at him.

“I was having lunch with a couple of my colleagues, and time got away from me. When I arrived at home, her mama and sister couldn’t break away, and my wife very sweetly told me she wasn’t happy about my behavior.” Brandon shook his head. “She doesn’t like missing a good shoe sale. Plus, our boys are mobile now. A visit to the ladies’ shoe department wouldn’t have ended well.” He glanced around the table. “They take after their daddy.”

“Has she forgiven you yet?”

“Let’s put it this way: I apologized. She puts up with a lot from the three men in her life. She accepted my apology, but wait until she finds out what else I’ve got up my sleeve.”

“What might that be?” Drew asked.

“The shoe people are visiting our house tomorrow night. I’m taking the twins out for ice cream with their grandpas while my wife, her sister, and our mamas sip champagne, eat appetizers, and buy some shoes.”

“That’s going to get expensive,” Drew said.

“She’s worth it. I can’t wait to see the look on her face.” The other guys at the table teased Brandon a little, but he grinned at them. “My mama didn’t raise any stupid children. With that, I’d better be on my way home. Thanks for the beer, Drew, and we’ll be here at nine tomorrow for the interview, if that will work.”

“Sure,” Drew said. He gestured toward his shoulder. “I’ll try to find something to wear.”

“The production assistants will take care of that. Don’t worry about it.”

Brandon got to his feet, shook hands with everyone, and hurried out to his car.

Drew walked back into the dining room, picked up the Tiffany’s bag, and said, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“I’ll put a shake in the freezer for your mom, Son.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Drew trudged up two flights of stairs that he would have run up last week. He needed a little time to think. Maybe he needed to solicit advice from McKenna: The guy was obviously crazy in love with his wife, and he knew they had had to make some pretty big adjustments so his opera diva wife could keep working after their sons were born. If he wanted to get anywhere with Kendall (after he apologized profusely for hanging up on her) he’d better be willing to make some compromises himself.

He tapped on the guest room door next to his bedroom. “Mom? Are you awake?”

“Come on in, honey,” she said.

He shoved the door open with his shoulder while hiding the little carrier bag behind his back. “Are you okay? You were pretty upset earlier. I’m sorry for what I did.”

He saw his mom’s smile in the soft light of the lamp on the bedside table. “Don’t worry about it. I haven’t been sleeping well since we got here, and I . . .” She shook her head and flinched a little at the movement. “I have a headache.”

“Do you need some aspirin or something?” He leaned down to stash the bag next to the nightstand while she wasn’t looking.

“That might help.”

“I’ll get it,” he said. He walked into the attached bedroom, filled a drinking glass with water, and grabbed the ibuprofen bottle out of the medicine cabinet. He could still carry stuff in his right hand as long as he didn’t try to lift his arm or anything, which hurt like a mofo. He needed some more medicine himself, but he could do this for his mom first.

He sat down on the side of the bed where she lay, put the drinking glass down on the nightstand, and said, “Do you need me to help you sit up a little?”

“I’m okay,” she said. He thought she looked pale and worn out, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. She pulled herself into a sitting position. He gave her a dose of the ibuprofen and the water glass.

“Do you need me to shut off the light for you?” he said.

“No. I’ll be much better in a few minutes.” She slid back into the pillows and gazed up at him. “How are you feeling?”