She sees it, and she also chuckles. “We’re probably going to want to clean that up.”
“Yeah. Eventually,” I tell her, and bite the back of her neck.
Later, we’re both draped over the VIP chairs—which are hella comfortable—Chloe in my lap and me just sprawled as much as I can get myself sprawled. I’m wrung out, and the post-sex glow has me feeling almost high. Or maybe it’s just Chloe. Her scent is an intoxicant, and I can’t get enough of it.
I slip my fingers through her hair, letting the soft strands drift and separate. Everything about her is a sensual feast. We don’t have to fuck for me to feel fulfilled. All I have to do is be close to her.
That’s, like, love or something. My inner voice is about as tipsy as I am. Love, though? I don’t think so.
There are feelings. Definitely feelings.
Okay, there are feelings. That doesn’t mean I’m in love with her.
But it could mean I’m heading that way. Surprisingly, the thought doesn’t freak me out. Not even a little bit.
I lean forward to kiss the top of her head. “You know… For a fling, this is a pretty damn nice one.”
A small, satiated smile curves her mouth. “Yes. It is.”
“Do you think maybe we could…” I trail off then, suddenly realizing what I’m about to ask her. Am I going to fast? Pushing too hard? Am I about to ruin everything?
She turns her head, peering up at me from her relaxed position sprawled across my body. “Could what?”
I take the jump. “Not end it. You know…after my treatment is done.”
A small frown creases the space between her brows, but it’s a thoughtful look, not angry or anxious. “You mean…actually date?”
“Something like that.” Again, I stroke a hand through her hair. I could sit like this all night, just enjoying her nearness. “I just don’t want to see you go so soon. I want to keep you.”
Her smile quirks up a little higher on one side. “I want to keep you, too.”
Relief floods me. I was afraid she’d dismiss me out of hand, deny any feelings for me. But it sounds like we’re on the same page. This is new territory for me—I’ve never liked a girl enough to have this conversation.
I shift a little under her, adjusting so her body connects with more points on mine. I like the warm weight of her on me. I can feel her heartbeat thudding in a counter-rhythm to my own. “So…” Again, I’m hesitant to say what I want to say, but finally I push forward. “I was wondering if you might do me a huge favor.”
“What’s that?” There’s no hesitation in her voice, no wariness.
I draw a slow breath. This is going to be hard for me to ask, for a lot of reasons. “It’s my mom.”
She turns to look into my face. “Your mom?”
“Yeah. Do you remember when we ran into each other at the hospice?”
“Sure.”
“I wasn’t there doing charity work.”
She frowns, then her expression shifts as she puts the pieces together. “You were visiting your mother?”
I nod. The last piece of the puzzle falls into place, and her mouth goes round. “Oh. Austin. I’m so sorry. How bad is she?”
“She’s not good. She’s been there for a few weeks though. Sometimes it seems like she’s getting better, but the doctors say that’s temporary. All in all, I think she’s doing better than they initially expected, but that doesn’t mean she’s not—” I break off. I can’t finish the sentence.
She’s dying. I know it, Mom knows it. It’s just that neither of us has actually said the words.
Chloe lays a hand on mine where my arm is draped over her shoulder. Her fingers squeeze gently.
“Anyway,” I go on, “all she’s ever wanted is to see me with a nice girl. Somebody who makes me happy. If she could see us together, I think it would make things a little easier on her.”
I realize what the request sounds like. Chloe could easily conclude that I’m implying she and I will be together forever, that we’ll ride off into the sunset together to achieve my mother’s dream that I be happy after she’s gone. That’s not what I’m after, though. I start talking again before Chloe can protest.
“I’m not asking you for a commitment. I just want her to know I’m okay. That I’ll be okay.”
Chloe’s soft voice breaks the silence. “She means a lot to you, doesn’t she?”
“She’s my mom. She raised us, made sure we had clothes and food when Dad was out of work, made us feel like we could do any damn thing we wanted if we just worked hard enough. I wouldn’t be where I am if it weren’t for her.”
Her fingers tighten on mine again. “I’d be happy to meet her, Austin. I really would.”
Her acceptance hits me hard, right between the eyes. I swallow hard, and then I kiss her hair.
I hate that I can’t just swing by Chloe’s house or office and pick her up, but she was right when she said we should just meet at the hospice. At this point, her being seen with me probably isn’t the best game plan. I don’t want to trash her life—I’ve come close enough to that already.
She’s waiting for me, leaning against her car, and she doesn’t see me when I pull up and park. I take advantage of the moment to watch her. She pushes a hand through her hair and the sunlight catches it, sending bright highlights all down its length. She’s so goddamn beautiful she makes it hard to breathe for a second.
I get out of the car then, and she turns and catches my eye. Her smile widens across her face, and I feel like somebody hit me in the chest.
You’ve got it bad, Sherwood. Quit trying to convince yourself you don’t.
My little voice has a point. That’s a hell of a lot of energy I could be using more productively. Because there’s no point denying anymore that I’m into my physical therapist.
She comes toward me as I walk to her car and doesn’t protest when I slide my hand into hers. I give it a quick squeeze.
“Thanks so much for doing this,” I say. “You have no idea how much it means to me.”
“I think maybe I do.” She lifts our joined hands to her lips and kisses the back of mine gently. “And I’m happy to do it.”
Inside, Krissy seems taken aback that I’ve shown up with a woman. “Hello, Mr. Sherwood. How are you today?” She pointedly doesn’t look at Chloe, but then gives her a careful look and a smile.
“I’m fine. This is my friend Chloe. Chloe, this is Krissy.”
They exchange friendly nods, then I ask the usual question, the one I ask every time but which I always dread hearing the answer to. “How’s Mom?”
Krissy’s nod is firm. “She’s doing well. Had a few minor setbacks this week, but overall…” Her voice trails off. It’s not the worst assessment she could give me, but my stomach falls a little. I have a feeling Mom’s entering a downward spiral.
“I wish you’d called about the…setbacks.”
“She asked me not to. Doesn’t want to worry you. And seriously, they were minor, or the doctor definitely would have had you on the phone right away.”
I decide I believe her. “Okay. Can we see her?”
“Of course.”
We head back to Mom’s room. Chloe squeezes my hand, but I get the impression she’s trying to encourage me rather than indicating anxiety on her part. I’m glad she seems comfortable with the situation.
When we walk in, Mom’s lying with her head turned to one side, and for a split second I feel like I can’t breathe. She looks so fragile, so tiny. Her skin is papery, shrunken. Her fingers look like little more than bone.
Then she looks toward me, opening her eyes, and a beaming smile fills her face, and she’s Mom again, alive and hopeful.
“Austin! I was hoping you’d come today.” She glances at Chloe. “And who’s this?”
“This is Chloe,” I tell her. “She’s my physical therapist. We’ve been…” I break off. How does Chloe want me to phrase this?
“We’ve been seeing each other,” Chloe says firmly, and steps toward the bed to extend her hand to Mom. Mom takes it. Chloe’s so gentle with her, not squeezing too hard but not acting like she’s afraid Mom will break, either.
“I’m so happy to hear that,” Mom says. “Austin needs a good woman in his life. And so does Emma.” She cuts me a sidelong glance. “She’s met Emma, right?”
“I certainly have. She’s quite the charmer.” Chloe pulls up a chair and sits next to the bed. “I haven’t spent much time with babies before, but I think Emma and I have really hit it off.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful.” Mom looks genuinely pleased, and I’m sure she’s planning my wedding already.
There’s a sudden pang in my chest at the thought that, even if I were to get married, Mom probably won’t be there to see it.
Chloe gives me a grin, as if to tell me everything will be okay, and then she turns her attention back to my mother.
“So, Mrs. Sherwood. I think you need to tell me every single embarrassing story you can think of about Austin.”
Chloe flashes me a grin. I move a chair up next to hers, and we sit together, holding hands, while my mother embarrasses the ever-loving shit out of me.