“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” you hear yourself say before you can even think it through. “I’ll be staying with him.”
Mrs. Reinhart looks at you skeptically. “I can’t ask you to do that, baby. I’m waiting on my job to approve FMLA so that I can come stay down here for a few weeks. You’re busy, Sterling. I can’t impose.”
“It’s not imposing,” you say, more confidently this time, gaining momentum as the idea settles in your brain. “I don’t want you having to take leave from your job. Nothing I have going on can’t be pushed aside for a month or so. Besides, I want to be here. It’s where I belong.”
You can see the doubt on Mrs. Reinhart’s face writ large, and you don’t necessarily blame her for it. Despite having a good rapport, you two don’t know each other very well. It’s not hard to see things from her perspective: you’re just Kai’s very famous, very busy, very flashy boyfriend. She has no idea what you are capable of, especially given the decidedly unsexy but very important task of nursing her youngest son back to health.
Over your shoulder, Kai grunts out a sigh. “Y’all are doing too much. I don’t need any help. I’m going to crash in bed for a few days, and the team will drive me around to whatever shi… sorry, Mama. To whatever business they need me to handle. I don’t need a babysitter.”
His mother’s eyebrows nearly hit her hairline, and her brown eyes bulge. “Excuse me, young man, but you just had your brains scrambled like breakfast eggs. Someonewillbe staying with you, and, if it’s Sterling, hewillbe reporting back to me daily. If I don’t like what I hear, Iwillbe flying down from Macon and staying in your office. Do you have any questions about any of that?”
“No, ma’am,” Kai replies.
You’re still stuck onyoung manand don’t immediately realize that Mrs. Reinhart is also waiting on a response from you.
“Sterling?” she asks imperiously.
“Uh… yes, ma’am,” you echo. “I mean, no, ma’am. Absolutely. That is an excellent plan. I promise you that he will have the best care in Florida, Mrs. Reinhart. Anything that I can’t do for him personally, I can coordinate on this end.”
Bless the woman’s heart, she still doesn’t look completely sold.
“This is my boy,” she tells you, putting a hand on Kai’s shoulder protectively. “I don’t know if you know this, Sterling, but he’s very important to me.”
It’s a little bit of a warning, but it’s too sweet for you to mind.
“I know he is,” you say softly. “I don’t know ifyouknow this, Mrs. Reinhart, but he’s very important tomeas well.”
Her face softens at last.
“He’s a big guy,” the male nurse says, gesturing at Kai. “Want us to help him to bed before we go?”
“I don’t need help,” Kai begins to bristle, but you cut him off.
“His bedroom is upstairs,” you say. “It would actually be great if you’d walk with him. Just to make sure that he makes it in one piece!” you add as Kai glowers at you.
Mrs. Reinhart nods approvingly.
“That’s a real good idea. I’ll go with you guys and make sure he gets tucked in, and then y’all can get going. You folks have been a blessing.”
Kai is still mumbling under his breath about the indignity of his mother wanting to tuck him in, but he allows the man’s elbow under his shoulder when he stands from the wheelchair. You get a little panicky when he takes his first step away from its wheels, leaning down quickly to grab the blanket before it canget tangled in his feet, but he bats you away. He seems a lot more steady than you would have guessed, and makes it to the base of the stairs mostly under his own steam.
“Sterling, honey, don’t forget that I ordered those groceries,” Mrs. Reinhart calls. She’s in front of Kai on the steps like she’s going to coach his ascent. “I paid for a rush delivery, so they should get here soon. If you could start putting the cold items away, I would be much obliged.”
You tell her that’s no problem.
From the sounds of it, Kai makes it upstairs safely. Relieved at that fact, you pick the blanket up off the floor and wad it on the seat of the wheelchair, which you push to the side of the living room. Kai’s hospital bags are still by the door. These, you carry to the foot of the stairs, deciding that you will go through them and see how much stuff you can put away without bothering Mrs. Reinhart.
You don’t get much further than unzipping his duffel, however, when there’s a crisp rap at the front door that damn-near shocks you out of your skin, despite the fact that you should have been expecting it. You furrow your forehead, thinking that Mrs. Reinhart must have left areallygenerous tip, because that Instacart shopper made it over in record time.
It doesn’t even occur to you that you shouldn’t answer the door, what with being Sterling Grayson and all. It’s a rare slip-up for you, a breach in your carefully-constructed barrier of security that you don’t fully comprehend until you see the teenaged delivery driver on the welcome mat and watch the way his eyes bug out when he realizes who he is looking at. He’s holding an enormous bunch of tiger lilies, their vibrant orange petals nearly obscuring his torso.
“Can I help you?” you ask, having very little patience for his star-struck goggling.
“Umm…” His voice breaks. “I, uhh. I have a flower delivery? For Kaius Reinhart?”
More flowers?You wonder if you are going to spend the next few weeks organizing bouquets to the point that you both are drowning in them. “Okay. I can sign for them.”
“No signature necessary,” the kid says.
