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Seven
Laila
“You two are so beautiful together!” Savage’s grandmother, Mimi, exclaims, beaming at Savage and me on Savage’s phone. Mimi is in her bed in Chicago, while Savage and I are leaning over the island in our new kitchen. And if I thought Savage resembled the grouchy, snarling Beast during our tour of the house, he’s turned into the sweet version of the Beast—the one who had the famous snowball fight with Belle—while talking to his grandmother on this call.
With his grandma, Savage is surprisingly gentle and easygoing. A man who smiles easily and chuckles often. A man who reminds his grandmother to “get plenty of rest” and “drink lots of water” and not to “overdo.” Basically, he’s the guy I’ve observed hanging out with his bandmates, with half the swearing and twice the adorableness.
“Don’t take any of his crap, Laila,” Mimi says.
“She never does,” Savage says.
“Oh, I take some of his crap,” I say. “But only because he’s so charming.”
“Yes, he is,” Mimi replies wistfully. “That’s why I still take some of his crap, too.”
We giggle together.
“Oh, guess what, Mimi?” Savage says. “I checked the shooting schedule, and it looks like I’ll be able to visit for Christmas. You’ll be moved into the new house by then, so I’ll get you a big ol’ Christmas tree. The biggest tree you’ve ever had.”
“How wonderful! Will you come to Chicago, too, Laila?”
I look at Savage and his eyes are saying, Please, please, please. “I’ll be spending Christmas day with my mom and sister,” I say. “But I’d love to come for a few days before then.” I’m curious to find out some details about the house Savage bought his grandmother, but if I were truly his girlfriend, I’d already know all about it. So, I ask a question that seems pretty safe. “Are you excited to move into the new house, Mimi?”
“Very excited. But I feel guilty, too, that Adrian did this for me. When he told me what he did, I told him to return it. But he wouldn’t do it.”
“A house isn’t like a pair of shoes,” Savage says. “But even if I could ‘return it,’ I wouldn’t do that. I bought the house for you, as a gift to myself. I want to see you in that house, Mimi. Now, please, let’s not talk about this again. What’s done is done.”
Mimi addresses me. “See what I’m dealing with here, Laila?”
“He’s incorrigible.”
She flashes an adorable smile at her grandson. “Thank you, Ady.”
“You’re very welcome.”
Mimi’s dark eyes widen. “Ooh! Isn’t it time to add the clams and mussels?”
Savage shrugs. “I have no idea.”
“Well, what does your timer say?”
“I didn’t set a timer. I forgot.”
“Adrian!”
Savage laughs. “I got distracted.” He pulls me into the frame and cups my face in his palm. “Wouldn’t you get distracted, looking at this face, too?”
Mimi giggles. “Yes, I suppose if I were a young man, I most certainly would. Now, show me the pot, sweetheart. I’ll be able to tell if it’s time by looking at the broth.”
Savage points his phone at the pot on the stove, and Mimi confirms her hunch is correct: it’s time to add the shellfish to the soup.
“Okay, now what?” Savage says after completing his task.
“You tell me,” Mimi says.
“Mimi, come on. It’s been forever since I’ve made this and I’ve had a long day.”
“Okay, okay.” She gives her grandson direction, while Savage repeatedly says, “Oh, yeah!” And I must admit, the entire exchange makes me giggle and swoon. They’re adorable together. Endlessly entertaining.
“Laila?” Mimi says.
I peek my head onto the screen, my eyebrows raised.
“Next time Adrian makes my cioppino for you, please remind him to set a timer at each step. It’ll work out fine this time because I’m here to save the day. But next time, he might not be so lucky.”
I look at Savage and, not surprisingly, sadness washes over his handsome features at the implication of Mimi’s comment—that she won’t be around forever.
“I’ll remind him, Mimi,” I say, taking Savage’s hand.
Finally, when the last ingredients are simmering, Savage says, “Okay, now that we’ve got everything added to the pot, let’s get you to bed, Mimi. Close your eyes.”
Mimi gets situated for the night, with the help of her caregiver. Sasha peeks onto the screen to say goodnight. And, finally, Savage begins to sing softly, in a hushed, soothing tone, “Mimi, Mimi, Mimi, I made you out of wishes. Mimi, Mimi, Mimi, and now I’m sending kisses. Hugs and kisses to you, I send them through the air. And when they reach you miles away, you’ll feel how much I care.” He sings the same refrain again, before finally whispering, “Sleep tight, sweet Mimi. I love you.”
Mimi doesn’t respond. Apparently, Savage’s lullaby had its intended effect.
Savage whispers, “Stuart?”
Mimi’s caregiver comes onto the screen, and Savage converses with him briefly before ending the call. As Savage puts his phone down onto the island, his Adam’s apple bobs. He takes a moment to collect himself, and then takes a seat next to me at the kitchen table. When he doesn’t speak, I rub his back in silence for a long moment, feeling the weight of his burden wafting off him. From what he said earlier today, I could tell he loves his grandmother. But watching him with her—watching his face as he sang to her—made me understand their bond in a whole new way. She’s everything to him, clearly. A central figure in his life.
