It’s a startling and completely uncomfortable need, but I want her to love me. It’s unfair, too, because I doubt I’m capable of giving love in return.
I’m sure my confession has Pop rolling his eyes in heaven, or hell. But I’m no fool. She deserves better than me and she knows it. Hell, considering what she’s learned about my parents, my background, and my love life, she’d probably run for the hills rather than give me a chance to break her heart.
Can’t say I’d blame her, either. Also, while she hasn’t mentioned Rob lately, it’s not over between them, in my opinion.
Her parents arrive today, sure to hound her to return home, and to him. Although I don’t stand a chance against them, I’ve decided I can’t let her take off without any fight.
This past week I purchased the first birthday gifts I’ve bought anyone in decades. I ordered a Wüsthof chef’s knife, a paring knife, and an apron. Although these things aren’t romantic, they’re sentimental, considering this whole thing between us began with a cooking lesson. I expect she’ll appreciate the intention.
She intimated to Jill she’d be staying through her lease term, which gives me a few months to wrest her from her past. I need to start with these gifts and get them to her before her mother arrives. I feel like a ten-year-old boy trying to impress a girl.
When did I become such a pansy? Scowling at myself, I straighten my shoulders and make my way to her house.
When I arrive, I knock on the screen door’s frame as a courtesy before I open the door, call out her name, and step inside. I’m greeted, however, by a glamorous older woman with a blonde bob; sharp, pale-blue eyes; and patrician features, just like her daughter’s. She raises one eyebrow.
“You must be Levi.” She steps forward with her hand extended. “I’m Helene, Lindsey’s mother.”
Her polite smile is dazzling but lacks real warmth. Her eyes fix on mine, attempting to discern my character in a few heartbeats. She’s shrewd, but she doesn’t scare me. I already dislike the way she condescends to Lindsey, so I’m hardly interested in impressing her. For Lindsey’s sake, I’ll be polite.
“Hello, ma’am. Yes, I’m Levi. Sorry to intrude.” I step back. “I didn’t expect you to arrive until a little later. I only stopped in to deliver something to Lindsey.”
Her gaze drops to the gift box, wrapped in pink paper and ribbons, held in my left hand. “How lovely. A birthday or thank-you gift?”
“Birthday. Haven’t found anything suitable to thank her for everything she’s done for me, but I will.”
“I’m pleased to see you’re recovering. I’m sure you’re enjoying your independence again.”
Her phony demeanor chills the room. The pale hair and cool-blue eyes remind me of Mama. What is it about me that makes mothers’ blood run so cold? Guess I’ll never know unless I insist on answers from my own—which pretty much means I’ll never know.
Thinking of Mama makes my blood run cold. Lately it seems I’ve been thinking about her, Pop, and the past far too often. I blame Pop’s death and Lindsey’s arrival for thrusting Mama to the forefront.
Helene clears her throat, awaiting a response.
“It’s great to finally be feeling stronger, although I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to missing Lindsey’s care. It’s a pleasure to meet the woman who raised such a fine, compassionate person. I suspect she learned how to tend to others by your example.”
From what I know of Helene, I’ve just lied through my teeth. But I needed to disarm her during this parry of ours. Her authentic smile convinces me she bought my line.
Lindsey is midway down the stairs when she sees me with her mother and stops short. Her eyes initially flash with alarm, but she contains her fear and smiles.
“Levi, I didn’t expect to see you today.” She slowly takes the final two steps. “Is everything okay?”
“I’m fine.” I raise the gift in the air, then place it on her dining table. “I came by to drop off a little birthday present. Didn’t intend to interrupt your visit.”
I’m used to seeing her in shorts and sneakers, or a robe, so her conservative minidress and ultrastraight hair tucked behind a headband throw me. Guess she dressed up for her mom. The short skirt practically begs me to run my hand up along the inside of her thigh . . . all the way up. Ah, hell. I’ve gotta get out of here.
“That’s sweet, thanks. You didn’t need to buy me anything.” Her eyes light up with curiosity as she tries to guess what would fit inside the box. “Can I open it now?”