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Best invention ever.
Or I’ll grab something out.
Hello, Taco Loco. Where have you been all my life?
But tonight, I told Lola that I’d whip up dinner for her and her mother. Trust me, it’s not going to be anything fancy. Just spaghetti and garlic bread.
I should be able to handle that.
Open a jar. Throw some noodles in a pot. Toss the frozen garlic bread into the oven.
And voilà—dinner is served.
Lola has a lot on her plate right now.
What am I saying?
That girl’s plate is always overflowing. How she’s gotten this far without self-combusting, I have no idea. She deserves all the best things in life, and I want to be the one who gives them to her. Every time I do something unexpected, surprise fills her expression. It’s quickly followed by a thousand questions that churn silently in her dark depths.
I hate it.
Hate that the people in her life have let her down so completely that me doing something small and seemingly insignificant gives her so much joy. It makes me want to tug her into my arms and hold onto her with all my might.
All right, so maybe that’s exactly what I end up doing.
No matter how much I have of her, it’s never enough.
I want more.
I want everything.
There’s been a few times when she’s muttered that she doesn’t understand what I’m doing to her. The funny thing is that I get where she’s coming from. I feel different when I’m with her. I’m not the same guy I was just a short month ago. I’ve spent the last twenty-two years fairly content with who I was. But that’s no longer enough.
I want to be better.
Lola needs someone.
Someone who will look out for her best interests and protect her. Maybe I haven’t voiced my concerns because ultimately, this surgery is her decision and I want to support her no matter what, but it fucking terrifies me. I’ve only just found this girl.
I don’t want to lose her.
We stroll through the produce aisle before grabbing a pint of strawberries. If I have my way, we’ll be doing something interesting with these tonight. That reminds me, whipped cream should be added to the shopping list we put together. I want to do something that will take her mind off this decision. Even if it’s for a few short hours.
We also grab a Caesar salad kit that includes everything in one handy dandy bag. How’s that for easy?
It’s practically foolproof.
Then, we meander up the world foods aisle and stop in front of an endless array of pastas.
Ridiculous.
“Why are there so many choices?” I point to the shelves. “And look at all the different shapes.”
Lola flashes me an easy smile before pulling a long blue box from the shelf. “I usually buy thin spaghetti noodles.”
Does it really matter?
Noodles are noodles.
“And what about the sauce?” Because there are just as many options as the pasta.
She peers closely at the middle shelf before picking out a bottle. “This one is good.”
As she sets the glass jar in the basket hanging from the crook of my arm, I tug on her fingers and pull her close, needing to feel her soft lips against mine. It’s getting increasingly more difficult to keep my hands off her.
Just as she sinks into the caress, someone clears their throat from behind us. Lola startles before drawing away in embarrassment. There’s already a blush tingeing her cheeks. I, on the other hand, don’t give a rat’s ass who sees us.
Walk on by, asshole. No need to disturb.
Lola stiffens as I glance at the couple now standing a few feet away.
Tony and Charlotte.
Of all the rotten luck to run into them here.
We haven’t seen them since the day of the testing. He’s texted and called Lola a dozen times, wanting to know about the results. When he wouldn’t stop bombarding her, she told him that when a decision had been made, she’d be in touch. By his snappish response, he hadn’t been happy.
If they didn’t have a cartful of groceries, I’d think they were stalking her.
Charlotte’s lips lift into a tight smile. There’s even more strain filling her face than the last time we were together. “Hello, Lola.” Her gaze flickers to mine before darting back to the girl at my side. “How have you been?”
“Good. And you?” Lola winces, and I can tell she wishes she could snatch the question out of the air.
Pain leaks from the older woman’s bruised eyes as her smile wobbles. “We’re holding in there the best we can.” There’s a pause before she adds lightly, “Just waiting to hear from you.”
When Lola inches closer, I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her to me. I hate that I feel the need to protect her from these people who should have embraced her into their family years ago.
