“The one who doesn’t ask for permission, the one who takes chances and ignores your judgmental comments. She’s someone I’d like to get to know.Withoutyour input.”
She sucks her teeth. “Since when do Black girls give their mothers this kind of mouth? As if me and your father didn’t give you everything just so you could have the life you’re so carelessly throwing away?”
I let out a heavy sigh, just as my bedroom door swings open. Instinctively, I pull the covers over my chest, my black silk gown is thin enough to leave nothing to the imagination.
It’s Luca. He’s hobbling in with the walker, but he’s managed to balance a tray of toast, fruit, and coffee across the front bar. He looks completely ridiculous trying to maneuver the whole setup toward me, and despite myself, I can’t help but grin. And it’s a big one.
“Penny, I—”
“Hey, Mom, I’ve got to go,” I interrupt, my eyes locked on him. “My husband just brought me breakfast in bed.”
It’s her turn to huff. “Well, at least he has manners. I hope he’s well-hun—”
“Bye, Mom! Talk soon.”
I can’t help but laugh as I hang up. I love how she manages to be equal parts “proper lady” and “pragmatic auntie” the moment a man enters the conversation.
I know there’s more that my mom and me have to get into. I know there are a dozen other variables to this mess that I still need to lay out for her. But honestly, I feel like I just took a giant leap by saying what I did. By standing my ground and taking up the kind of space I’ve seen her do my entire life.
The fact that she could pivot so fast and jump right back to being my Bertha and best friend makes me wonder. Maybe this accident was actually the best thing that could have happened for us.
I sit up straighter as Luca approaches.
“To what do I owe all this?” I ask, gesturing to the spread.
He grins, and I can tell he’s pleased with himself. “For saying yes, I guess. I’ve spent the last week watching you come and go—taking care of business, your patients...me. I just wanted to make your mornings here feel like a respite. Especially on a day when you don’t have to rush off to work.”
I lunge forward, grabbing the edge of the tray before the coffee can slosh over onto his white sheets.
“Easy there, delivery boy,” I whisper, carefully lifting the tray off the walker. “This setup is a disaster waiting to happen. You’re definitely not supposed to be using your medical equipment as a catering service.”
The scent of fresh fruit and caffeine finally hits me, and I can't help but settle into it. “Have a seat,” I say, gesturing to the spot on the mattress next to me. “Before you fall over and I have to explain to Coach Jones how you reinjured yourself in bed without a single bit of sex being involved.”
He smiles, but stays put. “I think it’s best if I don’t. Best behavior and all, remember?”
“You don’t think you can behave yourself just sitting next to me?”
“While you’re in my bed, wearing that black nightie? Absolutely not.” His gaze darkens, tracing the silk. “I don’t think you realize how much I’m aching to touch you again. So I have to keep my distance. For both our sakes.”
I raise a brow, gesturing to the tray. “And coffee and breakfast in bed was supposed to be ‘distance’?”
“It was a thank you,” he says, his voice dropping.
“Well, thank you,” I say softly as he starts to maneuver himself back toward the door. He pauses at the threshold, giving me one last look and a slow smile before pulling the door shut behind him.
Lord, have mercy. That man is fine.
One week down…Which is more than I can say for his dick.
It was rock hard.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Love Languages, Lessons + a Dime-Piece Legacy
Aspen
I’m currently perched on the edge of the leather armchair in Ms. Lilly’s living room, which is my favorite place to be on a Friday afternoon. She’s my last patient of the day, and I deliberately scheduled it that way so I could sit with her without having to constantly check my watch.
