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“He passed a couple years ago. I sank all of my inheritance money right back into my father’s dream. I know he’d be happy with what I’ve done. Mom was forced into an early retirement because of a battle with breast cancer. She’s needed a lot of help lately. The fatigue is hard on her. She’s used to being independent and active.”
I watch him closely as he concentrates on his driving. It’s a chance for free rein to stare as much as I’d like. His brows draw together in a frown, tension obvious in his taut arm muscles as he tells me of his mother’s illness.
“Is she going to be okay?”
“The doctor said her cancer was curable, so she decided to fight. It’s been tough on her. Chemo is a beast. She kept saying if the cancer didn’t kill her, the chemo would.”
“She sounds brave.” I can’t promise I would’ve fought. It sounds horrible. I hope it’s a decision I never have to make.
His hands grip the steering wheel until his fingers turn white, another glimpse of the stress his mother’s sickness has caused. “She actually hates when people tell her she’s a brave warrior and all that. She says she’s just a regular person fighting to live her life.”
“The very definition of brave.”
“Exactly,” he agrees.
“Is she still doing chemo?”
“No, she’s done with chemo. Then she had a lumpectomy. She just completed four weeks of radiation yesterday. It was every weekday morning at six a.m. I drove her to and from. She’s not up to driving herself yet. Good thing the radiation treatments themselves were quick, because I had to rush back to Sheridan House and get breakfast started. It’s been a crazy schedule, but it was only for four weeks. So glad she’s done.”
“How is she feeling now?” I close my eyes, hoping for good news.
“She’s officially in remission. The entire journey has been tough. Even though she was weak from chemo, they had her in surgery three weeks after her last dose. Then they gave her almost three months recovery time before starting radiation. It’s one relentless battle. Facing the fatigue from radiation is doing her in. I’ll tell you what, she’s a trouper. I wanted her to move back into Sheridan House where I could keep a closer eye on her, but she insisted she wanted to stay in her condo. She likes her independence.”
“Should I wait in the car? I’d rather not disturb her.”
“She’d ground me for life—for the tenth time—if she knew I left a young lady waiting in the car. No, she loves visitors for short periods. She tires easily, so we won’t stay too long.”
I glance at my phone. “I’ll keep an eye on the time.”
“Hmmm. Time is the one thing I want more of when it comes to you.”
“You want time withme?” I ask, stunned.
“I do. Does that surprise you?”
If I knew how to flirt, I’d say,Not at all. I’d love as much time as possible with you too.I’d love to get to know you better.
“No, I love time,” passes my lips instead. Inwardly, I cringe. Oh, brother.
Slade doesn’t comment. I think he’s giving me a free pass on that one.
When we pull up to his mom’s condo, I’m not surprised by the beachy vibe. There’s nothing square about the architecture. It’s all angles and slopes. I love the roughened plank wood exterior and the large square windows—simply unobstructed sheets of glass. She must have amazing ocean views.
Both Slade and I load our arms with several bags of groceries, and we head for the entrance where he rings the doorbell. “Mom, it’s me,” he hollers.
“Come on in, Slade,” I hear his mother say.
Slade uses his key to open the door.
“Hi, Slade. Just put the bags in the kitchen, and I’ll get to them in a bit.”
“Nope. Not a chance. You sit while I put these away for you.”
I find his stern attitude charming when it comes to insisting on helping his mother.
“Yes, sir.” She rolls her eyes, but she also hides a smile.
Slade gets to work organizing her kitchen. “This lovely young lady with me is Marin James. Thought maybe you two would enjoy a chat.”
