Chapter 18 #3
“I get where you’re coming from, but how long are we expected to put our lives on hold? For the rest of Mom’s life? There’s no right or wrong answer here. For what it’s worth, I say go for it. We’ll figure it out the way we have already.” Paul pushed open the door. “See you back at the ranch?”
“I’ll be right there.”
“Don’t forget to lock up.”
“Yes, Dad.”
Paul’s raised middle finger was the only indication that he’d heard Alex’s snide comment.
Alex swept up the glass, turned off the lights, shut down the computer and locked the main door.
As he walked up the hill to the house, he thought about what Paul had said about timing and also tried to figure out why he’d gone so ballistic on his brother.
He was about halfway home when it dawned on him.
He was jealous—jealous of his own brother and the easy rapport he’d found with the woman Alex considered his.
“When was the last time you were jealous because of a woman?” If he were being truthful with himself, he’d never experienced that particular emotion before.
He’d felt the same way the other night when he heard her invite her old friend Jared James to visit her at the lighthouse.
Alex had felt then like someone was peeling back his skin to reveal a rather ugly interior.
Jealous.
As he showered off the grime of the day and shaved, he thought about the other thing his brother had said, the part about Alex being in love with Jenny.
Was that even possible so soon after meeting her?
Yes, it was more than possible, he decided.
That realization had him questioning whether she felt the same way and what he’d do if she didn’t.
“Christ, you’ve got it so bad for her,” he whispered as the water cascaded down upon him. Was it too soon to tell her how he felt? Probably. The last thing he wanted was to scare her off by pushing her for more than she was ready to give. But maybe she was ready, too.
He had no earthly idea how to approach this latest dilemma as he wrapped a towel around his waist and reached for his phone to text her.
Running a little late. Will be there soon.
No worries, she replied. I’m running late, too.
No worries, he thought. That was an apt description of their relationship.
It was easy and peaceful and calming and somewhat effortless.
All of those things were exactly what he needed when he had so much else to contend with.
Since the heat had finally broken, he pulled on faded jeans and a cotton button-down shirt that could use some time with an iron.
Hopefully, Jenny wouldn’t care that he hadn’t taken the time to iron his shirt for her.
He could always say he was in too big of a rush to get to her to bother ironing, which wasn’t far from the truth.
Alex combed his hair, brushed his teeth and splashed on a bit of cologne. Then he went out to the living room to spend a few minutes with his mother before he left.
When she looked him over from top to bottom, he could tell she was in one of her more lucid periods. “You look nice.”
“Thank you.”
“You should’ve ironed your shirt.” Marion Martinez had made sure both of her boys could do their own laundry and knew how to handle an iron before they left her house. She’d tried and failed to impart some basic kitchen skills, however.
“I know. I’m already running late, though.”
“That’s no excuse to go out looking rumpled.” She surprised him when she stood. “Take it off. I’ll do it for you.”
“Oh,” he said, stunned by the offer as much as the lucidity. “You don’t have to.”
She looked at him with the eyes of the mother he used to know. “Please let me.”
Overwhelmed by her request, Alex unbuttoned the shirt and took it off, following her to the laundry room off the kitchen to keep an eye on her while she operated the iron.
But he needn’t have bothered. She ironed the shirt with the kind of skill that came from a lifetime of doing such things for the men she loved.
When she was finished, she held it for him while he slid his arms into the cooling sleeves.
He turned to face her and watched in stunned amazement as she buttoned it and then patted his chest.
“Much better.”
“Yes, it is. Thanks, Mom.”
“My pleasure.”
He could see that doing something for him had indeed brought her pleasure.
“Are you seeing that nice girl who was here the other day? I can’t recall her name.”
Alex saw to putting the iron away and stashing the ironing board. “Yes, I’m seeing Jenny.”
“I like her.”
“So do I.”
“Bring her to see me again soon, will you?”
“I will.” As tears stung his eyes, Alex hugged her. “Love you, Mom.”
“Love you, too, honey. Now don’t stay out too late. You know how Daddy and I worry when you boys drive at night.”
Alex wasn’t sure what hurt more—the stark reminder of who she’d once been or the sudden return to dementia. “I know, Mom. I won’t be out too late.” He pulled back from her and looked down at her. “Thanks again for ironing my shirt.”
“Your shirt? What about your shirt?”
“Never mind.”
She might not remember, but he’d never forget.