Chapter 55
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Leena
“You okay, Mama?”
Charlie breaks me out of my trance. I look up at her perched on the counter as I assemble soup for dinner.
“Yep,” I say, glancing back down at the soffritto in the pot I’m stirring. “Just a little nervous to show Julian the declaration paperwork I printed off last week.”
“Oh my gosh! Really? How come you didn’t say something sooner? Or give it to him right away?”
Sighing wistfully, I say, “You know he’s been so busy. In the last three days, he’s only left the hospital once. He practically fell into bed already asleep Saturday, only to be called in a few hours later.”
“So, will you give them to him tonight?”
Twisting my mouth, I think about it. “I don’t think so. You said he still had a couple cases on the board when you left. He may get stuck there late again, if he can even leave.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Mm-hmm.” I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips.
Hooting, Charlie kicks her feet. “To think he has no idea what is waiting for him when he gets off duty! You are going to blow his mind. He wants everyone to know you're his.”
Freely letting my smile stretch across my face, I gush, “I’m ready for everyone to know he’s mine, too!”
“I’m so happy for you, Mama. But . . . you're not, like . . . going to make me move out, are you?”
Horrified, I look up at her from stirring the pasta into my soup to see her eyes sparkling, teasing me. I decide to one-up her.
Softening my eyes and holding my breath, I will the tears to form. I can tell it’s working by the burning in my nose and moisture gathering quickly along my lashline. “I would never do that, Mama,” I whisper, full of simulated emotion. Blinking to push a tear out, it trails down my cheek.
“Damn it, Leena!” She squeezes her eyes shut and buries her face in her hands. “I seriously hate when you do that. You know it makes me cry, even when I know you’re faking it.”
A gurgling laugh escapes me, and I sniffle. “You deserve it for asking if I was going to make you move out.”
Turning to the island behind me and plucking a tissue from the box, I hand it to her.
Dabbing her eyes, she wails, “You’re the worst best friend ever, Mama.”
“Maybe, but I'm not letting you leave anytime soon. You’re stuck with me.”
“Debatable,” she snarks back.