Cassie cleared her throat and said, “He’s at work right now. Mami, we need to talk about that, too. But could you excuse us for a minute?”
In the hallway, Samson pulled her close for a hug and then tilted her face up so he could look into her eyes. He was big on direct eye contact, she’d noticed. “Cassie, you do whatever you need to do where your mom is concerned. You won’t hear a word of complaint from either me or Ivan. Being with you means being around your family, and we’re both fine with whatever you want to do.”
“But what about us?”
He didn’t look away or hesitate. “We let family dictate the course of our lives when we were teenagers. Both Ivan and I want to be a part of your life, and there’s very little which could change that, including your sweet, frail mom who obviously needs you. We can work out the logistics to our mutual satisfaction, I’m sure. Are you going to tell her?”
“That’s what I’m about to do. I’ll lay it all out for her. Samson, what you said…that’s what I want, too.”
He kept the kiss short, but that didn’t mean it was chaste or lacked heat. “I’ll be in the waiting room. Take your time, chiquita.”
Back in the room, she sat down on the side of the bed and took her mother’s hand in hers and said, “Mami, we need to talk about something. Don’t freak out, okay?”
“Now, mi hija, what could be so bad?”
A few minutes later, she’d hashed it all out for her mother. Finally looking into her eyes, Cassie waited for the questions, for the castigation. Her mom blinked, and merriment slowly crept into her gaze. “I wonder what Father Rodrigo will say.” Then she burst into giggles that were decidedly girlish.
“Damn, I was nervous for nothing.”
“Querida, do you think I don’t know about all the ménages in Divine? That I didn’t recognize the closeness between the three of you when you were together at the café yesterday, even more obvious than it was when you were teenagers?”
“We were obvious?”
Her mother flapped her hand. “Oh, I knew nothing was going on. Those Cutter boys were cut from high-quality material, but a mother knows.” She patted Cassie’s cheek. “It’s why I was reluctant to consider moving in with you. You need your space now that you are coming to life again.”
Cassie gathered her mom to her for a long hug and whispered, “Mami, maybe we’re both coming to life again. Come live with me. It’ll be fine.”
* * * *
It turned out to be a good opportunity for Samson and Ivan to meet some of her friends when they accompanied her to Violet, Josh, and Lucas Abbot’s wedding that weekend.
Violet had booked the Hourglass Inn, a Victorian bed and breakfast that had been gaining in popularity with tourists. The ceremony had taken place outdoors on the lovely terrace, and as the sun had set on the late autumn day, the guests had all come inside to eat, dance, and celebrate Violet’s binding ceremony to the two brothers she loved.
Everyone had raved about the beauty of the cake, which had confirmed Cassie’s trust in Ivan to complete the job for her, as well as the taste of it, which encouraged her and also earned her some more potential customers when guests asked if she had a business card. Samson and Ivan were also helping to promote her cake business.
Once her mother had been released from the hospital, they’d all put their heads together and decided to move her out of her efficiency apartment the following weekend. The word spread through the grapevine, and before Cassie knew it, she had so many volunteers to help pack, move, and set up that the chore would likely take less than a day to accomplish. For the weekend, however, her mom had packed a bag and was staying at Cassie’s house.
Cassie had been prepared to just set up the wedding cake, stay for the ceremony, and return home so her mother wouldn’t be lonely. But after her mother had reassured her numerous times that she’d be fine at her home alone, Cassie had gone ahead and attended the wedding and reception with Samson and Ivan as guests.
“Mom likes you being around, with me, you know,” she said as she and Ivan swayed slowly together in the ballroom to one of her current favorites, “Tennessee Whiskey” by Chris Stapleton.
Ivan’s eyes twinkled as he gazed down at her. “How could you tell?”
“If she didn’t like you, she would’ve been giving me hints that I should go out on a romantic date alone with Samson. And she wouldn’t be feeding you at every turn, either.” Her mother hadn’t been in her house fifteen minutes before she’d had her head in the fridge and the pantry, wanting to cook for them, and insisting he and Samson could call her Delicia.