CHAPTER 10
Claire
“Are you done with this, Mom?”
“I am. Thank you, sweetie.”
Claire looked at the lunch tray she had brought her mother, her brows furrowing at the sight of the untouched chicken and dumplings.
She knew the chemotherapy drugs cut appetite, and for the past two weeks, nearly everything she had attempted to feed her mom had ended in failure. Even this, her favorite.
With a sigh, Claire bent to pick up the uneaten lunch, her throat tightening.
Nora tipped her head. “You’re looking at me like that again.”
“I’m just worried, that’s all,” Claire said.
“Don’t be. I’m fine. Remember, I always told you to listen to your body. My stomach is just telling me not to eat right now. I will when I’m hungry.”
Except she wasn’t hungry, and the oncologist had stressed that eating, regardless of appetite, was necessary to maintain a healthy weight.
“To what food would your stomach say yes?”
“Nothing right now. Maybe at dinnertime.” Her mother eyed her expectantly. “How is the handsome Dr. Jake?”
“He’s good. He asks about you a lot.”
“You didn’t tell me how your last date went.”
He’d taken her to a fine dining restaurant. Again.
Not that Claire didn’t enjoy going out to eat.
She did. Jake loved fancy places that required dressing formally and sitting upright while suit-clad waiters brought out designer food that looked pretty and used exotic ingredients.
It was a good thing she’d found a thrift shop with beautiful clothes at very reasonable prices.
“It went well,” she said.
“Where did he take you this time? Somewhere nice?”
Claire heard the enthusiasm. “Very nice. A place named London House.”
“Never heard of it.”
She smiled. “You have to be a member.”
“Oh!” Her mother beamed.
The date at London House had been quite the evening.
Jake seemed right at home from the get-go, with the other two colorful Lamborghinis lined up in the parking lot.
A red Ferrari, too. Her mother soaked in all the details and seemed to regain some energy as Claire described the atmosphere and decor and showed her pictures of the place.
“Wait, go back. Is that Jake in a suit?”
Claire swiped to the right. Indeed, Jake was in his black suit and button-down, grinning in a selfie. He must have grabbed her phone and snapped the pic while she’d gone to the ladies’ room.
“Look at him, so handsome! He looks so different out of that white coat!”
“Yes, he does.”
Nora adored him, and Claire thought her mom was far more enthusiastic about Jake than she was herself. She suspected that if Mom had met someone like him, she would have married the man in a heartbeat.
Nora sighed. “I am so happy for you, Claire.” A sly smile curved her lips. “How’s he in bed?”
Claire blinked. Heat rose up her neck and up her cheeks. “I can’t believe you just asked me that.”
“Oh, come now. You can tell me anything. This may come as a shock to you, but your generation didn’t invent the horizontal tango.”
Oh my God. Please make it stop.
Claire knew Mom wanted to see her with Jake, but she wished she wouldn’t push so hard.
She didn’t want a relationship right now, and were it not for her mother, she wouldn’t be seeing anyone.
She had told Jake exactly that, yet he kept asking her out, saying he would give her as much time as she needed.
“It’s casual, Mom. Things with Jake aren’t hot and heavy. I have nothing to tell you. Besides, it’s only been three weeks.”
Nora’s shoulders sagged. “Hmm. From what I hear, after two dates is the norm these days. Sometimes, right out of the gate.”
A vivid image of Ian, gloriously naked and aroused, beckoning her, flashed across her mind.
“Who told you that?” Claire’s voice sounded high to her own ears.
Her mother laughed. “I may be old, but I’m not living under a rock, Claire. At least, not yet.”
Claire scowled. “You are not old.” She ignored the morbid last part, not finding it in the least funny.
Her mother smiled. “Sometimes I feel that way. I look back, wonder where so many years have gone, and question some of my choices. Regrets are hard to live with. It’s impossible to know how life would have gone if you took a different path, but you can’t help wondering, and, in some respects, I’d really like a do-over. ”
Claire frowned. This sort of talk wasn’t like her mother, who had always looked forward and stressed the importance of optimism. Claire cursed the illness that was surely making her think this way.
She placed a hand on Mom’s arm, wincing at how thin she had become. “You might think you deserve the self-criticism and negativity, but that’s not true. To paraphrase Maya Angelou, you did then what you knew how to do. I happen to think you did it well.”
Her mother smiled. “You’ve always been my biggest fan. Even when I didn’t deserve it.”
“You always deserved it.”
What she didn’t deserve was this disease that was slowly robbing her of time.
Claire felt a chill run through her. She was waiting to find out if she was a match to donate bone marrow for a transplant.
If she wasn’t, they’d have to find a donor or a cord blood unit, but they’d been told that could take a few weeks to a few months or more.
Sometimes, a closely matched marrow donor or cord blood unit could not be found at all.
Claire refused to think of that horrible scenario.
Then again, perhaps the chemotherapy would be enough to kill the cancer, making a bone marrow transplant unnecessary. Dr. Dawson had said there was a chance.
“Oh, look at your face. I’m sorry to be all gloom and doom. Have I told you lately how much I appreciate you taking a leave of absence to be with me?”
“Numerous times.”
“Well, I’m telling you again. Really, Claire, I do have insurance. I could hire a home care person to do all this. You shouldn’t be stuck here; you should be going out and having fun.”
“We’ve already discussed this, Mom.” No way was she letting a stranger in here, knowing how Nora cherished her privacy. At least, not if she could handle it. “You’ve done so much for me. It’s my turn, now, to take care of you.”
“But—”
“Butts are for pooping,” Claire interrupted, deploying what her mom always said when Claire was in preschool and attempting to argue.
That earned her a surprised smile. “I can’t believe you remember that.”
“Oh, I remember just about everything you said to me.”
“I don’t know where you get that stubborn streak.”
Claire grinned. “No idea.”
A gleam entered Nora’s eye. “Speaking of having fun. Has he called you this week? When are you seeing him next?”
She didn’t need to ask who “he” was. “This weekend.”
“Where is Jake taking you?”
“He says it’s a surprise.”
Nora clasped her hands. “Oh, I just love surprises.”
Claire took a deep breath and quietly expelled it. In all honesty, she wasn’t in the proper frame of mind to go on any date. But if this were the bright spot in this nightmare her mother was going through, Claire would give it to her. She bent to kiss her cheek. “I love surprises too.”
Her mother yawned. “I’m tired.” She tipped her head. “Was that a knock?”
“I didn’t hear anything.”
The next second, Claire did hear someone rapping on the door.
“I’ll get it,” she said, instantly feeling foolish. These days, Nora was too weak to do anything but lie in bed.
It didn’t take long to cross the tiny trailer and open the front door.
“Delivery for Miss Claire Burns.”
A young woman stood there, a white box in her hands. Nestled in tissue inside the box was a small vase, and peeking out of it were sunflowers, along with a few orange tulips and, this time, rosebuds too.
A jolt kicked Claire’s heart into a faster beat.
The young woman plucked a little yellow envelope out of the box. “Are you Miss Claire?”
“I am.”
“I was told to make sure I hand this to you directly.”
Claire accepted the card and flowers. “Wait just a moment.”
“Oh, no need. The tip has already been taken care of.” A big grin. “You’re lucky is all I’ll say.”
Claire thanked her again, heart hammering as she closed the door and stared down at the beautiful little arrangement, then at the bold, masculine scrawl on the envelope.
Open me.
She closed her eyes.
“Open for me.”
The glass was cool beneath her palms, the only part of her body that wasn’t on fire. On fire, too, was the naked man standing behind her, his hands gliding down her back and over her hips.
She glanced over her shoulder, shuddering as he lifted her hair and trailed kisses all along her neck, his hands becoming more urgent as he caressed her backside, kneading her bare flesh. Her breath was coming in short rasps, nerves firing all along the path his skilled hands traveled.
He kissed between her shoulders. “Those heels are so damned sexy. You look so beautiful in this light.”
Not as beautiful as you, she thought. Maybe this had been a grave mistake. Because, somewhere in the night, the things he made her feel had turned emotional, and he scared her to death.
She felt him go lower, lower, kissing as he descended until he pressed his warm lips to the back of one knee, and his hands slipped upward along her inner thighs.
“Open, Penny.” His voice was a deep rumble. “I’m on my knees already. Do I need to beg?”
She turned her head and looked down, needing to see him. His upturned face looked otherworldly in the glow of the blazing Las Vegas lights. Her shoulders hummed with a strange effervescence, and wild jolts of electricity raged, unbridled, through her core.
This … this was almost too much.
“I don’t think I can take any more,” she said.
He chuckled. “Oh, but you can. You said you weren’t multiorgasmic, and I’ve already proved you wrong. Let me show you how good it can be.”
With that, he coaxed her thighs apart, and she let him, the Vegas lights blurring as she braced herself against the huge glass window panel, nearly coming undone the moment he opened his mouth over her, erotically, from beneath.
Claire shuddered at the memory, so vivid, she felt lightheaded.
She tensed, expecting her mother to call out and demand to know who had come to the door, but all Claire heard was the whoosh and hum of the compact dishwasher.
Nora must have dozed off.
Grateful for the respite, Claire hurried to her bedroom on tiptoe. She closed the door and placed the vase on the glass top of her nightstand with a little clink, staring at the vibrant, deep-orange sunflowers. She’d only seen yellow ones before.
Her heart began to pound; she sat on the edge of her bed and eased a finger under the flap of the small yellow envelope.
I’ll be at this Five Guys location every day at noon this week.
In case you’d like to join me for a burger. Or a shake.
Or both.
I hope you do. I’ll even wear ketchup if that helps sway you.
Ian
P.S. These reminded me of your hair.
She stared at the note in disbelief. She’d never called him, and Claire thought he’d be long gone by now, back in North Dakota and out of her life. Why was he still in Florida?
Ian was still in Florida.
Taking her phone out of her pocket, she checked the time.
10:15.
The place was about twenty minutes away. She caught a glimpse of herself in the small dresser mirror. Ugh. What a mess. She’d need to hurry and shower and change, and … What was she thinking?
Could she? Should she?
Date me too.
Impossible. She couldn’t date him. But he wasn’t giving up, and Claire sensed this would continue if she didn’t tell him to stop pursuing something that could never be.
She could do that today. Face him and put an end to this.
Besides, she seriously craved a burger. Five Guys had such good fries, and adding a shake would be decadent.
She could practically taste the sweetness and feel the creamy texture on her tongue.
Maybe she could bring something back for Mom to tempt her to eat.
Paradoxically, all her health-conscious mom would eat these days was junk food.
She’d have to text the next-door neighbor, Susan, to sit with Mom while she was away.
Fingers flying across the screen, Claire did just that, then plugged the address into the directions app.