Chapter 31
“See, she’s fine,” Elijah said.
My mom was fine. Her scooter was by her bed.
In her bathroom, her toothbrush was out and resting on the side of the sink.
The only thing it looked like she wasn’t able to do was change out of her pants, but that wasn’t the end of the world; she’d been wearing comfortable, elastic-waisted pants to make both our lives easier anyway. I nodded and quietly left the room.
“You seem almost disappointed,” he said in the hall.
I wasn’t disappointed that she was fine, just disappointed in myself for making us leave the restaurant.
Earlier, I’d had another drink, definitely one too many, probably two too many, and then became preoccupied with the fact that this was her first time using the scooter.
How her muscles had been underutilized lately and this was a lot to expect of her.
“I left her,” I’d said, brushing the chip crumbs on the table in front of me into an orderly pile. “On her very first try. She hadn’t even wheeled it down the hall. What if it doesn’t fit through her bedroom door?”
“The wheelchair fits through the door, the scooter will,” Elijah had said quietly beside me, rubbing my back.
“But what if it doesn’t?”
“She would’ve called you.”
“True. But what if she fell? And hit her head and can’t call me?”
“Do you want to leave? I can take you home. I drove.”
“No,” I’d said. “She’s fine.” But five minutes later I was repeating the same statements over again.
“I’m taking you home,” Elijah had said. He stood and helped me up.
“I’m taking Sutton home,” he’d announced to Michael and Tara, who were having a private conversation of their own.
It looked kind of heated, but I was trying not to eavesdrop.
He’d led me outside to his car, where he’d helped me sit down and even buckled my seat belt.
“I can do it.” But I hadn’t moved to take over the task.
Now, we were standing in the hall of my house. “No, I’m not disappointed. I’m glad she doesn’t need me as much anymore. It’s nice.”
“It is.”
“Maybe I can even go check on the restaurant this weekend. Ease my mind there as well.” I moved toward the kitchen, suddenly feeling a strong urge for a glass of water.
“That’s a good idea. I know how worried you’ve been about it.”
I took a cup down from the cupboard and filled it with tap water, not willing to wait for the slower-flowing fridge-dispensed water. I downed it in several big gulps, then let out a loud sigh. “Oh, but you were going to feed me this weekend at your house.”
He smiled. “That’s okay, we can do it another time.” He took the glass out of my hand and put it on the counter. I wasn’t sure why. I wasn’t going to drop it.
“Do you want to come?” I said, spitting out the words without thinking too much.
“To LA?” he asked.
“I mean, I know you’re busy, but if you want to I—”
“I’d love to come,” he said.
“Do you think Tara would check on my mom? Or maybe she wouldn’t. She seemed upset with me tonight. Was she upset with me?”
“For what?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
“She wasn’t upset with you. She owes you. She absolutely would look in on your mom.”
I leaned against the counter, feeling tired or dizzy or something. “And maybe I can hire Lucy for Saturday just so Mom’s not alone all weekend.”
“Good idea.”
I gripped the edges of the counter and stared at the wall in front of me. The room was dim, lit only from the hallway. I hadn’t flipped on the light when coming in here, and the room was spinning. “I’m still very drunk.”
He laughed. “You are. You did good tonight, by the way.”
“I’m sure I will regret it in the morning.”
“Which part? The singing or the excessive drinking?”
“All.”
He pulled me close. “You keep surprising me.”
“I’m not actually full of surprises, I’m actually pretty predictable, so don’t expect much more than what you’ve seen.”
He pressed his lips to mine several times, lingering close to my mouth between each kiss. “What I’ve seen is what I need.”
My chest expanded with his words, and my arms snaked around his waist. “Don’t make me take you right here,” I said.
“You’re still very drunk,” he reminded me.
“Oh, right.” I grabbed a handful of his ass. “Later.”
He let out a quiet laugh, then gave me a slow, passionate kiss that set my insides on fire.
“Maybe I’m not that drunk,” I said.
“I should go. Do you need help getting to bed?”
“No, I’m good.” I walked him to the door.
“I’ll see you soon, Sutton.” He placed one more kiss on my lips and then left.
I leaned my back against the door, then sighed like a lovesick teenager.
“Okay, so here are her meds. She doesn’t take these anymore, but she does take these three, and she can take this one if she’s in pain. It’s all written down here.”
“You know I’m a nurse, right?” Tara asked, standing in the kitchen with me Friday morning as I was spelling everything out for her. Along with the chart I’d made weeks ago for her medication schedule, I’d made another one for where things were kept in the house and a list of emergency contacts.
“I know,” I said.
“She seems to forget I have a brain as well,” my mom called from the other room.
“I haven’t,” I said. “I just want to make sure more than one person knows.”
Tara put her hand on my arm. “She’ll be fine. You’ve done good.”
“Thanks for doing this,” I said.
“Of course. I’m happy to. Thanks for the four weeks of therapy you did for me.”
“It didn’t help you,” I said.
“But you tried and that’s what matters. Plus, you got a new toy out of it.” She wiggled her brows at me.
I let out a single loud laugh, then sucked in my lips.
“What’s so funny?” Mom asked from the other room.
“We’re just talking about Sutton’s new boy toy,” Tara called.
“He’s not younger than me,” I said.
“Does boy toy only work if the person is younger?” she asked.
“I think that’s what the saying means.”
“Well, I’ve decided it could also work if the person is more fun,” she said. “Younger at heart.”
“Thanks a lot,” I said.
“Oh, come on, you know you’re an old woman living in a twenty-eight-year-old’s body.” She lifted up the charts I had painstakingly made for her and Lucy.
“I guess I do know that.”
“Who’s her new boy toy?” Mom asked.
“Elijah,” Tara said. “You’ve met him.”
“Oh, yes. I don’t like that boy.”
“He’s fun, Andrea.”
My mom grumbled something that resembled fun, my ass.
“Your mom still doesn’t like him?” she asked me quietly.
“Apparently, he reminds her of my dad. But honestly, I think everyone reminds her of my dad.”
Tara considered this for a moment. “I guess I could see why he does.”
“You remember my dad?”
“I do! He was outgoing and friendly.”
“Elijah is not my dad,” I said. Maybe Dad was outgoing and friendly, but he was also private and sneaky.
“No,” Tara backtracked. “Of course not, I just meant I can see why your mom might find a few tiny commonalities.”
“Everyone has a few tiny commonalities.”
“Probably true.”
“Are we okay?” I suddenly asked.
“What?” she said in confusion. “Of course.”
“Just, when I sang karaoke the other night…”
“It just surprised me. I didn’t think you liked performing in front of a crowd.”
“I don’t,” I assured her. “That’s why I got very drunk.”
She nodded and then laughed. “You really did.”
I took a relieved breath. We were fine.
She tapped the edges of the papers she still held on the counter, then set them down next to the collection of things I’d compiled to properly care for my mom. “What time are you leaving?”
I looked at my smartwatch. “In like thirty minutes. We’re hoping to beat rush hour traffic. But seriously, Tara, please call me if I need to come back. I can always jump on a flight in an emergency.”
“You won’t need to,” she said. “Just have fun. You deserve a break.”
I wasn’t sure this weekend was going to be much of a break. It would just be a different kind of work. But at least it was work I chose and with people who appreciated all I did.