I hate that he’s right in a sense. I am only doing this for Blake. Or at least I was. But something about his proclamation touches me. And maybe it’s only been a day, but I believe Connor. I believe he wants a new start a new life. And maybe it was Blake who mapped all this out, but I’m the one that’s here right now. I’m the one that can help this man find the life he wants. Why shouldn’t I try to help him wholeheartedly?
Walking up to him, meeting his gaze head on, I say, “This is your home now, too. You’re welcome here as long as you need or want to be here. In fact, it’ll be nice to have someone around. It can get a little lonely.” I can’t help frowning with the admission. It has been terribly lonely in this house since Blake passed away. When I move my eyes to Connor again, his mouth is in a flat line, his brows furrowed slightly in sympathy for me.
I take a deep breath and smile, fighting the melancholy I feel. “And yes, Blake set all of this up, every single thing,” I admit. “But Connor, I want to help you.”
He moves his eyes to the floor and swallows before quietly saying, “Thank you.”
Deciding it’s time to move on from the heavy, I change the subject. “I appreciate you working on the car for me, Connor. I’ll probably head to the store before you get started on it and before it gets too warm. Any special requests?”
“What’s your favorite meal?”
“Mine?” I question, surprised, as I slide a plate into the cabinet next to me.
“Yes. Yours. I’d like to cook dinner for you. Part of a huge thank you that I owe you.” I can’t help smiling even though he’s not looking at me. “I’ll cook for you Tuesday night if that works for you.”
“That would be nice.” And it would be. I can’t remember the last time someone cooked a meal for me. “My favorite meal, hmm . . . let’s see. Roasted duck with plum sauce.” Connor freezes and turns his head to me, his mouth twisted to the side. I try to fight it, but my laughter bubbles up and bursts from my mouth. “Spaghetti,” I chuckle as I toss the dishtowel at him. “I absolutely love spaghetti.”
He lets out a huge sigh of relief and a smile spreads across his face. “Thank goodness.” His hand rubs his head. “I was going to be in deep shit if I had to make roasted duck.”
“Your face was priceless,” I laugh again, heat blanketing my face as I do.
“What in the hell is plum sauce?” he questions as he shakes his head.
“I have no idea. It sounds disgusting.”
“Dinner tomorrow night then?” he chuckles, and I can’t help but notice how deep and real it sounds. He heads for the backdoor and stops, waiting for my confirmation.
“Sounds good.”
“Your sister says he’s covered head to toe in tattoos!” My mother practically shrieks at me.
I grit my teeth, threatening Lexi’s life in my head. No doubt she called my mother immediately after she left my house this morning, foaming at the mouth to tell her about Connor. Now, Gladys will be distracted with me and stop lecturing Lexi on what happens to loose women. FYI: they grow old, and their vaginas get saggy—according to Gladys. My mother, the wisest woman in all the land.
Holding my cell phone between my shoulder and ear as I push the grocery cart through the store, I reach up and grab two cans of spaghetti sauce. “Mom, you have to calm down. Yes, Connor was in prison, but he was Blake’s cousin. Do you really think Blake would do anything to put me in danger?”
“You didn’t have to move him in with you,” she argues, not answering my question.
“He’s not living with me. He lives in the apartment over the garage.”
“Do not give him a key to your house.”
“Mom, drop it,” I warn, having lost my patience. “You haven’t met him. You have no idea who he is.”