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Lifting my ice tea to my lips, I discover I’ve drained my glass. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to go to the bathroom and then refill my tea. You need anything?”
“Not right now. I might come in and grab something in a minute.” Luca gives me a saucy wink, and I turn away before he can see the instant effect his words have on me.
I finish up in the bathroom and head for the kitchen to pour another glass of tea when there’s another knock at the door. After my last visitor, I’m not too eager to answer.
Opening the door, I find sweet Meghan holding a large tray covered in tinfoil. “Oh, come in.” I usher her through the doors, having forgot all about her. My hand flies to my chest. “I’ve been in the backyard all night. I hope you haven’t been out there long.”
“No. Just got here. Thanks again for doing this.”
“Well, I need to find somewhere to put them so they don’t suffer the same fate as the night shift at the hospital. It’s hard to keep my kids away from goodies.” Maybe I’ll put them on top of the fridge and leave a note to myself to remember.Because it’s clear, my mind is on other things lately.
Meghan looks through the sliding glass doors and beams. “Oh, how fun. You’re the best mom, Jill. Look at them.”
I follow her eyes, and my heart warms. This wasn’t my doing. But she doesn’t need to know?—
Suddenly, Luca is directly in front of us, sliding the door open.
My eyes connect with Meghan, who’s wearing a shit-eating grin. “Well, hello.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Jillian
“Jilly! You here?”
Coming out of the laundry room, I greet my mother, who has Truitt asleep in her arms. “I think story time at the library was a little too much like bedtime story time. He barely made it through the first few pages before he started curling up in my lap.”
“Aww, he’s had a big week. It might be catching up to him. I’ll go put him down,” I say.
“I’ll make some coffee. Watching him fall asleep was making me want to curl up and do the same.”
After a few snuggles, I’m able to deposit Truitt in his crib and return downstairs as the coffee drips into the carafe. Mom gathers two mugs and creamer. “You having one, too?”
“Yeah. I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Oh? I thought the nightmares were getting better.”
“For the most part, they have. Then Myla will have one. I’m thinking it might be time to go back to therapy.”
Mom grabs the coffee pot and pours the rich dark roast into both of our cups. She hands me the one that says “Woke up sexy again,” and she uses the other imprinted with “Surely not everyone was kung fu fighting.” She gives me a new one every Christmas, although most are on the top shelf, rarely used, because they’re PG13, or higher.
My mom has a great sense of humor. I think it’s how she’s managed to keep a great disposition all of these years. It takes a special type of person to be a social worker. She helped a lot of people. I think that’s what encouraged me to enter the nursing profession. And though it’s a very tough profession, it’s given me the opportunity to work in a field I enjoy. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that I feel good about what I’m able to put back into the world.
“You seem down, Jilly bean. You’d think with your newfound friendship and the kids spending time with a new friend or two, you’d be smiling more.”
I could never hide anything from my mother. She’s a shrewd woman. “I think that’s the problem.”
She gives me a quizzical glance before bringing her steaming cup to her lips.
“Luke is different. When we met, it was purely a patient nurse scenario. But it feels like the universe keeps bringing us together somehow.” My mother smiles over her cup, until I add, “But he’s made it clear he’s not interested in a relationship.”
“Well, you wouldn’t know it from where I sit.”
“Mom, you know men as well as I do. They might want company. But that’s very different from a relationship.” I pop the p. “I’m trying to remain friends, but he’s making it difficult. There’s always that underlying innuendo. Little flirty things he says and does. But I don’t want to fall any harder for this guy just to get my heart broken. And I don’t want my kids to have to recover from another man leaving them. It’s different when there are kids involved.”
My mother covers my hand with hers. “It sounds like he’s scared.”
My eyes snap from my coffee cup to her. How does she know? “Yes.”
