“My daughter doesn’t tell me anything.” She squints at the machine, struggling to read the options and trying her hardest to focus. “She doesn’t need me anymore. She stopped needing me a long time ago.”
“You so sure about that?”
Renee ignores me, clearly choosing to live in denial, as she presses the button for a medium roast coffee, but nothing happens. She presses harder, then harder still.
“Piece of shit,” she mumbles.
Without saying a word, I pull three more quarters from my pocket and place them in the machine.
“Oh.” She presses the button again, not the least bit embarrassed or thankful, and we wait as her drink is dispensed. Making our way back to the room, Renee says nothing, nursing her coffee and staring blankly ahead. But the second we reach the door, she stops me with her hand on my arm. “My daughter deserves better than you.”
I know.
Chapter Forty
Leighton
The takeout pizza on my paper plate has hardened and my appetite has been non-existent since I got the call this morning from Aubrey.
“You need to eat something,” my sister says, perched on the edge of her hotel bed beside her husband.
“Not hungry.” I pick at a piece of greasy pepperoni. The thought of eating it makes me nauseous.
“The doctor seemed to be hopeful,” Adam says, ever the optimist. It’s easy to be optimistic when you’re bilking a seven-figure salary from one of the hottest up-and-coming Silicon Valley start-ups to hit the scene in years.
Aubrey married well. Mom is proud.
That’s all she ever wanted for us … to marry “up.” She was convinced if we married well, we could insulate ourselves from tragedy and hardship. She loved my father, but she felt wholeheartedly that had he took the job working for her father at his Kansas City Chevy dealership, he never would’ve taken over his father’s farm and never would’ve died so young.
Grief makes your logic a little fuzzy sometimes.
So does alcohol.
“You want this?” I slide my plate toward River, who shakes his head.
“You should try to eat. You haven’t eaten anything since breakfast,” he answers gently.
“Glad you’re keeping track.” I lift my slice a couple of inches, but I’m unable to bring it any closer.
“The doctor gave her a fifty-fifty chance,” Adam says, popping the cap off a bottle of local craft beer. “Don’t lose hope.”
“I’m allowed to be realistic,” Aubrey says. “I mean, we knew this day would come eventually. She’s almost ninety years old, I get that. But she was our grandmother. She took us in and gave us a place to stay, a chance at a normal life. She sewed our Halloween costumes when Mom couldn’t. She taught Leighton how to cook so she could feed us on the days my grandmother wasn’t feeling up to it. She cheered us on from the sidelines at all of our games when Mom was too drunk to remember to show up. After we lost everything, she was all we really had.”
Aubrey wipes away a tear before sliding off the bed and shuffling to the bathroom. She’s always hated to cry in front of other people. It makes her feel weak and powerless.
Checking my watch, I realize it’s almost eleven o’clock, so I tap River on the arm. “We should get back to our room.”
He nods, and I toss out my untouched dinner.
“Tell Aubs I’m down the hall if she needs me,” I tell Adam. “We’re in 307.”
I climb under the crisp hotel covers after washing up for bed. River’s body is warm, and I slink up to him, melding my body against his and slipping my arm over his side.
Pure, unadulterated comfort.
He rolls to his side, facing me.
“I thought you were asleep,” I say.
“I’m too tired to fall asleep.”
“Me too.” I kiss his mouth before burying my nose into his neck. The faint scent of aftershave fills my lungs. “Thank you for everything.”
I run my fingertips along his smooth chest before pressing my cheek against it, finding solace in the steady beat of River’s heart.
Chapter Forty-One
River
Leighton’s perched on the edge of the bed the next morning, cradling the hotel phone on her shoulder when I step out of the shower. She turns to face me, her free hand resting on her chest.
“That’s great news,” she says, exhaling. “Thank God.”
Our eyes lock and she smiles.
“Yes, we’ll stop by and visit this morning.” Leighton turns away. “Love you too.” She hangs up, twisting toward me. “That was my sister. My grandma apparently made some improvements overnight. The doctors say she’s going to be fine—for now. They’re looking into sending her home in the next day or two. She’s off supplemental oxygen and her stats are near-perfect.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Leighton rises, nuzzling into my arms and pulling in a lungful of steamy, soapy air. “Let’s go visit her this morning. I want to spend some quality time with her before we go back.”
“Of course.”
“River, can you come in here?” Leighton steps out of her grandmother’s room to where I’m lingering in the hall. I wanted to give them some time alone, before Renee, Aubrey, and Jackson showed up. “She’d like to meet you.”
Heading in, I stand at the foot of the woman’s bed, watching as a slow smile curls across her wizened face.
“Alone, please, Leighton,” she says, reaching a shaking hand in my direction. “I wanted to speak to him alone.”
“Oh.” Leighton’s eyes widen. “Right. Sure. River, this is my grandma, Joyce. I don’t think I’ve properly introduced you yet.”
“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” I say as she studies me.
Leighton sneaks out, turning to give me a reassuring wink before she vanishes around the corner.
“Have a seat, sweetheart.” She points a crooked finger toward an empty chair, and I oblige. “I wanted to have a minute with the man who put the twinkle back in my granddaughter’s eyes.”
Releasing a partial chuckle, I smirk. “I don’t know about that.”
“I never liked that Grant fellow,” she says, her scarce eyebrows meeting in the middle. “Leighton’s face never lit up around him. That’s how I knew she deserved better. Sure, he put on a good show, but that’s what men like that do. Never trust the charmers, that’s what I told my kids. That’s how Renee picked Leighton’s father. He was kind and genuine, with a good heart.”
For a woman who was nearly on her deathbed twenty-four hours ago, I sure can’t tell.
Joyce coughs, and I hand her a Styrofoam cup of ice water from a tray beside her bed.
“Thank you, dear,” she says, sipping. “As I was saying … I don’t know you … not yet … but any man who drops everything to take a woman to see her sick grandmother is a keeper in my book.”
“I was just doing the right thing, ma’am.”
She points, her lips pulling wide and eyes lighting. “But you did the right thing because you care about her. You put her needs before yours.” Her head tilts. “You like her, don’t you?”
I nod.
I more than like her, but I’ll keep that to myself until the time is right.
“She likes you. I see it written all over that pretty face of hers,” Joyce says. “Now, I know we’re not supposed to have favorites … but Leighton’s always been mine.”