“Well, I’m glad you’re here, honey. I don’t see your sister much, bless her heart.”
I nod and reach forward again to pat her hand as the nurse leaves the room. “Last I talked to her, she was having to travel a lot for work.”
It’s true, but that doesn’t make it any easier on Mom. With the nurse gone, I move to sit next to her bed, taking Emma out of her carrier and settling her on the blankets next to Mom. Emma can sit up pretty well by now, but I hover close, not wanting her to fall off the bed.
“And how’s my little grandbaby?” Mom coos. She reaches out, letting Emma close her tiny fingers around her own. Emma’s grinning a wide, drooly grin with two little teeth in the middle of it.
“Ga ga,” Emma says again, which makes Mom smile.
Still focused on the baby, Mom says, “How is she doing? Is her Momma still crazy?”
I shake my head a little. “Her Momma’s not crazy—she’s just young.”
“No, she’s crazy.” Mom gives me a narrow look. “You should look into getting full custody before something happens again like last Christmas.”
I don’t even want to think about last Christmas, much less discuss it, so I just nod. “I’ll think about it.”
“Honey, this little girl needs a momma who’s not handing her off to the nearest available almost-relative every time she gets a chance. And the money—”
“There’s nothing I can do about the money, Momma.” This is definitely not a discussion I want to have again. “It’s either that or have Emma’s face plastered all over the Internet. You know that.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Emma is frowning now. Mom lowers her voice, keeping her tones pleasant.
“I mean what is Emma going to think when she gets older and finds out her Momma only keeps her around so she can take your money? She needs a real mother, Austin.”
My thoughts drift to Chloe. It’s a surprisingly gentle drift—a natural thought that feels weirdly right. Emma likes Chloe, and Chloe likes Emma. And Mom’s right—Megan’s never going to think of Emma as anything but her goddamn meal ticket.
Mom’s still giving me a look. “Y’all are thinking mighty hard there, Austin. What are you thinking about?”
For a split second, I consider telling her. Then I shake my head. If I tell Mom about Chloe, I’ll never have a moment’s peace until I’m standing at the altar.
“Nothing, Momma.”
“That doesn’t look like nothing.”
I smile. “It’s not important. Not right now. Maybe later.” I lift a finger when she starts to respond again. “Now, you know Krissy’s only going to let me stick around for a few hours, so what would you like to do? Do you want me to read for you again?”
“Only if you’re dead set on not telling me anything more about this ‘nothing’ you’re thinking about.”
“I’m dead set.”
“Fine, then.”
She tucks Emma a little closer to her. Emma’s starting to look a little sleepy, her eyelids drifting even as she giggles at her grandma. I pick up the copy of Wuthering Heights, open it to the bookmark, and start to read.
I read until Momma falls asleep, then I set the book aside, give her a kiss on the forehead, and leave her be. She needs her rest if she’s going to get better. If there’s any way at all for her to get better. I keep hanging on to that hope.
Carefully, I pick up Emma, who has also dozed off—apparently Wuthering Heights isn’t the most exciting read for infants. Her head lolls a bit as I slide her back into the carrier, facing me this time so she can curl up against my chest. She makes a few soft sounds but doesn’t wake up.
As I head out into the hallway, I’m so caught up thinking about Momma and Emma that I almost slam right into a woman coming the opposite way down the hall. I swing to the side just in time.
“’Scuse me,” I say and offer a smile, and then she turns to acknowledge the apology and freezes in her tracks.
I freeze too. It’s Chloe. She’s wearing a grey pencil skirt, nude pumps, and a white blouse. Her black hair is piled on her head in a messy bun. It’s as though she heard my unspoken prayers for her to wear a sexy librarian outfit. Goddamn.
“Austin?” she says, eyes wide.
“Nice to see you, Doc.” Or should I call you Teach?
“Um…yeah.” She collects herself a little more quickly than I do and smooths a hand down the front of her skirt. “What are you doing here?”
To visit my dying mom.
Her question punctures the happiness growing in my chest. The truth is just too damn depressing to say out loud. Before I can consider what I want to tell her, I’m already answering, and I’m not telling her the truth. I’ve also moved all the way out of the space where everything comes out Southern fried.
“I come by every once in a while. It’s a thing for charity. You know.”
She doesn’t look convinced. “Doesn’t the team usually do that as a group?”
“Sometimes. I like to do it on my own from time to time. You know—keep it on the down low.”
“Charity visits with your baby?” She glances at Emma with a smile.
“Why are you here?”
“I volunteer here. I do twice a month here and then twice a month at the long-term rehab facility downtown.”
“You sure are busy. No wonder you never answer my text messages.”
Her eyebrow quirks up. That’s why I like to piss her off—she’s damn sexy when she’s giving me that look.
“I didn’t answer your messages because they weren’t appropriate.”
I lean a little closer. “What about the other day in the hot tub? Was that appropriate? I’m thinking no.”
Her face goes bright red—God, I love it when she blushes like that—and she pushes past me, heading for the lobby. I follow her all the way out as she heads through the front door and into the parking lot.
“What are your plans for the rest of the day?”
She rolls her eyes. “Austin.”
“What? It’s an innocent question.”
“Nothing’s ever innocent with you.”
“What about Emma?”
Emma makes a babbling noise at the sound of her name, capturing Chloe’s attention, who melts at my baby’s smile. “Are you using your baby to get on my good side?”
“How’s it working?”
Pretty fucking well, from the look on her face.
“You’re not playing fair.”
“All’s fair in love and war.”
Chloe lets out an exasperated sigh before stepping away from Emma and turning back toward her car.
“Are you hungry? There’s a nice diner a couple blocks from here. We could have lunch. Or they have a great Sunday brunch if you want to try that.”
“No.” She continues toward her car.
Emma lets out a plaintive cry the moment Chloe takes a step away.
“Come on. You’re making my baby cry.”
Her eyes narrow. “Not cool, Sherwood.”
“She’s insulted that you won’t join us for lunch. Can you blame her?”
She whirls around, hands on her hips. “Austin, the answer is no.”
“They make an awesome eggs Benedict.”
“Too high fat.”
“Live a little, Doc.”
She chews her lip, her eyes softening whenever she glances at Emma. “Fine. Just promise me you’ll behave yourself.”
I make an exaggerated “X” over my heart. “I promise.”
Her pumps crack loudly on the pavement as we begin the two-block walk toward the diner. I can’t take my eyes off the sway of Chloe’s hips. Something about the knit of her skirt makes them cling just right to the curve of her pert little ass every time she takes a step. Her heels are just high enough to add a sassy little sway, but not so high that she looks awkward or unprofessional. Not that I would object to a pair of six-inch stilettos on her.
She still seems hesitant when we walk in and take a seat at one of the tables. Emma babbles as I take her off the carrier and settle her down on the booth next to me. I open a menu and glance over the offerings.
“You’re serious about the eggs Benedict?” she asks.
“Of course. I never joke about eggs and Hollandaise.”
“What kinds of sauces do you joke about?”
Did she make a joke? “Well, there’s a sauce I use all the time that’s frequently the butt of jokes.”
She leans across the table, interested. “Oh yeah?”
“It’s homemade. Thick. Juicy. I’ve been told that it tastes creamy and salty.”
Her eyebrows rise. “Like Alfredo sauce?”
“Sort of. Except you have to tug on the bottle real good to get the sauce out.”
She makes a face as she finally realizes I’m talking about my cock. “You’re disgusting.”
But one corner of her mouth tucks back in a half-grin before she lifts the menu in front of her burning face. The waitress comes back, and Chloe orders the eggs while I order a turkey sandwich.
She glares at me. “I only came here so we could talk.”
“What’s up?”
“You made me a promise that you’d lay off, but you’re still sending me nasty text messages and staring at my ass when I walk in front of you.”