Chapter 19
HARLOW
“She broke her arm?” Poppy exclaims once the morning rush has died down and I’ve had a chance to fill her and Pablo in on what happened.
“Yep.” I set about making myself an iced oat milk espresso since there currently aren’t any customers to serve.
I didn’t get much sleep last night and I wish I could blame it on being worried about Monroe and her arm, but the star of my dreams—or nightmares, I should say—was Spencer.
In my dreams, he didn’t stop at kissing my cheek.
His mouth moved to my lips and down my neck until he had me stripped bare in the kitchen.
He hefted me up into his big arms and carried me down the hall to my room where he removed his clothes.
When he sank into me it was like coming home—so sweet and so right and so fucking perfect.
I woke up panting, my underwear damp, and my body on the verge of an orgasm.
“I can’t believe Hot Daddy let that happen,” she snipes. “Did you rip him a new one?”
“At first,” I admit, adding the oat milk to my drink and snapping the lid on before giving the cup a swirl with my wrist to mix it up. “But then I realized accidents happen and something similar could’ve just as easily happened on my watch. He was torn up about it. I didn’t need to add to that.”
Poppy shakes her head. “Poor Roe.”
“She’s not fazed by it. At all.” I laugh and reach for a straw. Ripping the paper off, I stab it into my drink. The paper straw will be soggy in no time, but I can’t stand not using one. “I’m not sure anything could shake that girl.”
“She’s resilient. Like her mom.” Pablo gives my arm a squeeze as he passes with the bucket, headed to the back to fill with ice.
“Do you think she’ll let me sign her cast?” Poppy asks, popping her gum.
“I’m sure she’ll request it.”
“Sweet.”
The chime dings, signaling a customer and I turn around with a ready smile plastered on my face. Spencer might be the actor, but there’s a certain amount of performance that comes with working in the service industry.
Hours later, my back aching, I head over to my parent’s house to pick up Roe. I smell like coffee, my feet are tired, and I still need to go home and make dinner and work on a paper. One day, all this will be worth it. And it’s not that it isn’t now, but I’m just so damn tired most of the time.
I pull in the driveway, and I’m tempted to text and ask my mom to send Roe out, but I haven’t seen both my parents in a while so I figure I might as well muster up some energy and say hi.
It’s the least I can do for the support they’ve always offered with Roe.
I can’t imagine what it felt like to have their teenage daughter announce she was pregnant, especially when they’d spent so many years worried about Willa and she’d finally gotten her transplant and was on her way to being her healthiest self.
I knock on the front door and wait for it to open.
“Oh, hey, sweetie.” My dad smiles in surprise and pulls me in for a hug. Tears nearly prick my eyes at his familiar scent. Sometimes I’m still just a little girl who needs a hug from her parents to feel better.
“Hey, Dad.” I squeeze him tight. “Where’s my little monster?”
“In the kitchen making cookies with your mom.”
“Oh, god,” I groan.
He locks up the door. “Don’t worry, your mom told her no cookies until she eats dinner. She made lasagna since you worked late, figured you might want to take it with you or eat here if you want.”
“That was nice.” Really nice. I don’t feel like cooking, and I hate to admit it, but with how I’m feeling I’d probably stoop to getting Monroe a McDonald’s Happy Meal just so I wouldn’t have to think about cooking.
“Sure, sweetie.” He squeezes my shoulder. Perry, our family golden retriever, brushes past me in greeting and I reach down to scratch his head. “You know we’re always happy to help.”
Dad disappears into the family room to sink into his favorite chair to watch the game—what game that is, I have no idea, but there’s always a game.
I head straight back to the kitchen and smile when I find my mom and daughter.
My parents both still look great for their age, but my mom is starting to get more than a few streaks of gray in her hair.
“Mommy!” Roe cries, jumping off her stool and running over to me. She throws her arms around me and nearly knocks the breath from my lungs thanks to her cast slamming into my hip bone.
“Hey, Monster. I missed you.” I kiss the top of her head.
“You should’ve seen the way Grandma had to give me a bath, so I didn’t get my cast wet,” she giggles. “It was so funny.”
“You gave her a bath?” I ask, shoulders sagging.
“I thought yesterday was probably draining for you and since you worked a full day today…” My mom trails off. “I wanted to help however I could.”
Fuck. I’m going to cry.
I turn away and open the refrigerator to grab a drink, using it as an excuse to hide my face to get my shit together.
“Thank you,” I say, shutting the fridge door and popping the tab on the soda can.
“You’re welcome. Roe and I are just finishing up the second batch of cookies, but I can send you off with the first if you’re ready to go. There’s lasagna too. You can take it to go or heat it up and eat here.”
“I’d love some lasagna.”
She points to the pan still sitting out and I make myself a plate, popping it in the microwave to nuke it.
When the lasagna is warmed, I grab a fork from the drawer and sit down at the same kitchen table that’s been there since I was a little girl.
My stomach rumbles, reminding me that I skipped lunch. I dig into the lasagna, bringing the first bite to my mouth. I nearly scald my tongue but catch myself just in time and blow on the bite.
“These cookies are going to be so good,” Roe says to my mom.
“The best,” she agrees.
While they finish the cookies, I scarf down my dinner and wash up the plate when I’m done.
“You look tired, honey,” my mom comments, taking my cheeks in her hands after she’s washed them.
“I’m always tired,” I counter. And I still have schoolwork to conquer before I crash.
She frowns and smooths my hair back from my forehead. I might be an adult now, but I’m still her baby the same way Roe will always be mine.
“I’m worried about you.” She frowns and lets me go.
Roe, thankfully, has run off to hang out with my dad before we go so she can’t overhear.
“Please, don’t worry about me.”
“I can’t help it.” She pulls a glass container out of the cabinet. “Can I at least send you home with some lasagna for tomorrow?”
“That would be great.”
She cuts up the lasagna—giving me a much larger portion than necessary, more than enough for me, Roe, and even Jameson—and secures the lid on top.
“You’re working too hard,” she says, sliding the container my way. “If things are too much—”
“They’re not,” I groan.
“If they are,” she reiterates, “you know your dad and I are always here for you. You can always move back in, so you have the extra help.”
I shake my head. I can’t do that to them. They don’t need to deal with my bullshit.
“I’m good, Mom. I promise. It’s just a lot going on right now.”
“I understand,” she says, grabbing the cookies that are already done and setting the baggy on top of the lasagna, so I won’t leave without it.
“But I can’t help but want to make sure you’re okay.
I don’t want you to burn out. You’ve had to take on so much responsibility at such a young age.
” She grabs a piece of my hair and loops it around her finger.
“You’ve done far better than we could’ve ever hoped or dreamed, but sweetie, just remember your dad and I are always here.
We’re always going to be your safe place to fall, okay?
Don’t be afraid to ask for help if you need it. ”
Tears prick my eyes. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Come here.” She pulls me into her arms and squeezes me tight.
I don’t care how old you are—nothing beats a hug from your mom.
“Thanks for this,” I say once she lets me go and I grab up the food. “I won’t have to cook tomorrow.”
“You’re welcome. Take care of yourself, sweetie. Please?”
“I will,” I promise.
“Come on, Roe. We gotta go,” I holler out for my little gremlin. “Get your shoes on.”
It takes another fifteen minutes to get in the car, because of course it does. I’m not sure how parents with multiple kids do it, because one is hard enough to corral.
We make it to the apartment at the same time as Jameson. He hops out of his car and leans against the side. His dress shirt is slightly wrinkled, and his hair is mussed like he’s tugged on the wavy strands relentlessly today.
“Jae!” Roe cries, undoing her belt and hopping out of her seat. She’s already talking his ear off by the time I extract myself from the car.
He smiles my way and my heart squeezes.
I gather up my bag and the food from my mom, but almost immediately it’s plucked from my hands.
“Hi.” He presses a quick kiss to my lips. “You look tired.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “Just what every girlfriend wants to hear.”
He takes my hand, and I take Roe’s as we make our way to the stairs up to the apartment.
“My mom made lasagna if you want any,” I say once we’re in the apartment and he sets down the dish. “I’m going to go shower if that’s okay with you. I’m not feeling too great.”
He frowns in concern. His cool hand touches my forehead, and I nearly sink into his touch in relief. “You’re warm.”
“I’m just tired is all,” I argue. “Once I shower, I’ll feel better. I have to work on my paper.”
Concern brackets his mouth. “I think you should take Tylenol or something.”
“I’ll be fine,” I mumble. “You’ll see.”