by Anna Paige
AFTER THE MORNING’S admissions were behind us, we agreed to keep things light for the rest of the day. Though, spending time with Ali’s mom was sure to try our resolve.
That woman was a piece of work.
It was my understanding that she’d left Ali and her dad when Ali was barely a teenager to go in search of the almighty dollar. She’d certainly found it with husband number four—a ruthless vulture of the business world who had briefly circled our company before being sent packing. I had no respect for the husband and little respect for the woman herself, so my agreeing to this was strictly out of deference to my obligations as best man.
And maybe because I wanted to stay close to Talia. At least until I knew she was okay.
Or so I kept telling myself.
I escorted her to the lobby and left her to wait while I pulled the car around. When I stepped out to open her door, she was grinning.
“Classic American muscle.” She nodded in approval as she inspected the deep red metallic monster. “I’m more of a Camaro girl myself, but I must admit this is pretty hot.” She slipped past me and sank into the bucket seat with a sigh.
I chuckled all the way back around to the driver’s side.
She continually surprised me.
We arrived at the florist a few minutes later, miraculously finding parking right out front. D.C. parking was usually the stuff of nightmares.
Talia made no move to unbuckle her seat belt. Instead, she sat staring toward the tastefully-decorated store front and took a deep, steadying breath.
“Are you still fighting a headache or are you debating running away?” I knew damn well that Talia had no love for Ali’s socialite mother, so I wasn’t surprised when she indicated the latter.
“That woman tries my patience. Only for Ali would I willingly spend time with Eileen Shepard.” She shook her head ruefully and started to get out.
“Hang on,” I told her and rushed from the car, coming around to open her door and offer a hand. It was something I’d done all my life—instinct—but today it was also a precaution in case she was hit with another wave of dizziness.
She took my proffered hand with a sweet smile and waited for me to lock up before threading her arm through mine. “I’m going to chalk this up to you being a gentleman instead of assuming you are babying me because of my head.”
She was going to argue with every gesture.
Stubborn-ass woman.
It worried me how much I liked her feisty side. I wasn’t supposed to be noticing all the attractive things about her—and that list was continually growing—I was supposed to make sure she was okay and then carry my ass home before I got too entangled in her life. That wasn’t in my plans. Never going there again. Not even for the stunningly haunting beauty that was clutching my arm and consuming my thoughts.
I just couldn’t.
So why the hell was I still here?
The internal war that ensued on the heels of that question made my head spin.
No time to consider it now. Just do what you agreed to do and go home, dammit.
I made up my mind then that I would do just that.
TWO HOURS AT the florist with Ali’s social climbing mother was about as much fun as I thought it would be.
For her part, Talia handled things well but I could tell her patience was wearing thin. She only snipped at Eileen once and the woman was a bit less boisterous after that. It had been a damn good shot, too. I’d nearly high-fived her.
Eileen had started in on how Ali’s choices weren’t elegant enough, didn’t use enough rare flowers, and weren’t befitting an event of this magnitude. After several minutes of her tirade, Talia had had enough.
She leveled a slender hand in front of the woman, delicate finger pointed straight at her chest and told her in a deadly voice, “I’ve had about all I’m going to take of your snobbery, Eileen. There’s a difference between being well-bred and being well-funded. Don’t you dare forget that I know exactly on which side of the coin you fall. Now either focus on what your daughter wants or hand the reins over to me and go back to your house on the hill.”
The look on Eileen’s face had been priceless.
By the time we left, I had a whole new respect for Talia and a new level of sympathy for Ali and Clay. Shit, was I glad she was Clay’s future mother-in-law and not mine. I seriously considered sending him a sympathy card.
Talia checked her phone as we approached the car and seemed distressed.
I looked from the screen to her pensive face. “Everything okay?”
She glanced at it again and frowned. “It’s going dead already and I’m expecting a call.”
I closed her door and walked around to take my seat behind the wheel. “What charger does it use?” She showed me the port and I leaned across her to open the glove compartment, catching a faint trace of her scent that made me inhale deeply. “I have one that will fit.” I retrieved it and grudgingly retreated to my side.
She seemed shocked when the vintage-looking radio face folded down to reveal a USB port, where I quickly attached the cord and handed it to her. “That’s really cool. I never would have guessed.”
“Oh, don’t let appearances fool you. She’s not all smooth lines and soft leather. In my experience, there’s always more than you see at first glance.” I winked at her as I started the car and thought for a moment just how accurate that statement was.
WE ARRIVED AT her apartment building around three o’clock and I insisted on escorting her inside. She’d been trying valiantly not to let on that she was still in pain but I saw her wince on more than one occasion and her voice had been noticeably soft all day, as if the noise was too much for her.
Just as we were entering the apartment, Talia’s phone began to ring in her pocket. I tried to mouth my goodbyes and make my exit so she could have privacy but she took my arm and ushered me to the living room, pointing at the couch and holding up a finger as she answered. “Hey, Cameron. How are you, sweetie?”
Her smile practically lit the room and it was stunning. Absolutely stunning.
She pinned the phone between her ear and shoulder, listening intently while grabbing two tall glasses from a cabinet and turning to the refrigerator. “That’s awesome, Cam. I’m so proud of you. Did your mom take lots of pictures?” A pause. “Be sure to have her send me a few. I want to add them to my album.”
My eyes roamed around the room then, realizing that there weren’t many pictures visible aside from a couple of framed photos on the foyer table. It seemed like I’d seen lots of photos on the walls when I was here helping Ali move.
Curious.
“Absolutely. Let me get my pen.” Talia walked to the aforementioned table and opened a slender drawer in the middle, taking out a stationery set. She placed it on the counter and took out a small note card. “Okay, I’m ready.” She wrote for a minute and nodded, nearly dropping the phone from its precarious position on her shoulder.
After she finished, she folded the card over and slid it into a tiny envelope, scribbling quickly on the front. “Got it. She’ll be so proud of you, honey.”
I felt awkward sitting there overhearing her conversation, so I stood thinking maybe I should step outside onto the balcony or something to at least give her the illusion of privacy.
“No, don’t go anywhere. It’s fine,” she told me, her hand partway covering the phone.
I nodded and retook my seat, studying her as she turned away. The way her body moved was pure sex and she had no damn clue, which made it even hotter. There was something to be said for unflaunted beauty.
“No, I wasn’t talking to Ali. She lives with Clay now, remember? But she said she’s coming for a visit in a week or two.”
“No, that was my friend Spencer.”
“No, he’s not my boyfriend. He’s just a friend who stopped by to look in on me.” She tossed me a look over her shoulder, smiling. “No, I won’t be moving in with him like Ali moved in with Clay.” Another pause. “You know
, you sure are asking a lot of questions today, sir. Did your mom take you for ice cream after the game?” The suspicion in her voice was laced with humor. She nodded. “I knew it. Well, you go enjoy your post-game celebration and be sure to keep me updated on your winning streak, okay?” More nodding. “I sure will. You guys come and see me soon, okay? We can go see her together.” Cameron—whoever that was—spoke again for a moment, then she nodded. “Okay, baby doll. Love you, too. Bye-bye.”
She hung up with a happy sigh, noticing my attention for the first time. “Sorry about that. He calls every Saturday at this time and I have to be here to take down his note for him.” I waited while she replaced the stationery and gathered our glasses, handing me one as she sat across from me on the couch.
“Niece or nephew?” I’d gathered that she was speaking to a child from the tone and mention of Cameron’s mother.
She shook her head. “No. My brother will probably never give me either of those. Picky bastard.” She laughed for a moment before sobering. “Cameron was at the children’s hospital with Amelia. They were best friends. The two of them together was the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen. He’s two years older than her and he became very protective.” She paused to sip her lemonade. “He went into remission right before they moved her to hospice. He was there with her until the end.”
Her eyes shone with unshed tears but she was smiling. “He knows I go to the cemetery every Sunday morning, so he calls on Saturday to give me a message for her.” She pointed to the counter where the little envelope sat. “I had an extra vase added next to the original one on her headstone, this one with a hinged lid. I leave the notes there for her.”
She picked at a napkin that had been left on the end table, deep in thought. “I was at the cemetery every day in the beginning. I’d stay there for hours talking to her. Once Cameron started sending messages, I noticed they’d disappear from the vase after a while. One day I would go to visit her and they would just be gone. I was mystified as to where they went. The grounds keeper used to stop to speak to me whenever he saw me there and I caught him making his rounds and asked him about it.” Her mouth turned up at the corners, smiling at some remembered conversation.
“Did he know where they went?”
She nodded and dropped the mangled scrap of napkin to her lap. “He said that Amelia must have checked her mail. He told me it was likely that she would check it around once a week to keep the notes from piling up and overflowing.” She looked at me with a sad smile. “I told him that it was probably a good idea. Then he said that sometimes he liked to send balloons up to heaven with little paper confetti inside, just in case a message was missed. Ever since then, when I go on Sundays the vase is empty and there are new flowers there, probably ones that have been donated. Most of the time, they’re yellow.”
I blinked rapidly for a moment, trying to fight my burning eyes. “What about Cameron? Is he still doing well?” I had to refocus my attention or I’d lose it.
She nodded, her smile widening. “He’s doing great. He’s nearly eleven now, growing like a weed from the sound of it. Cancer-free and thriving.” There was no trace of jealousy in the statement. She was genuinely thankful that he was doing well.
“Do you get to see him often?”
“Unfortunately, no. His father is in the military, stationed overseas right now and his mother is still playing catch-up with medical bills. She can’t afford to take time off to travel but I know I’ll see him again one day. He’s wanted to visit Amelia for some time now. Bless his little heart.” She was thoughtful for a moment before returning her attention to me. “So, what are your plans for the rest of the day? I’m sure you’re anxious to get home.”
I shrugged and sipped my lemonade. “Not really. We have a gap in the schedule so there’s nothing to rush home to. I have no particular plans.”
“Except your tux fitting on Wednesday,” she said with a laugh.
I gave her a bland look. “Don’t remind me. I’m still pissed that Clay violated my Versace.”
Her responding giggle made my dick twitch. It was such a pure sound, unintentionally sensual.
Damn. Time to go.
I gulped down the rest of my drink and stood to take the glass to the sink. “I better get going so you can relax. I’m sure you didn’t intend on having to entertain company all weekend. You heading to the restaurant today or do you need more time to sort through things?”
I heard her rise from the couch and take a couple of steps but she didn’t respond. I set the glass in the sink and turned back toward the living room just in time to see Talia standing there with a blank expression on her face, swaying on her feet.
Shit! She’s going down!
I crossed the twenty-foot gap between us in a flash and barely managed to snare her around the waist before she hit the floor.
Her eyes closed and she wouldn’t respond to my voice. I was afraid to shake her but damn did I want to. I wanted to see her honey-brown eyes more than anything in the world.
We stayed in a heap on the floor, me cradling her in my lap as I took out my phone.
Aversion to hospitals or not, her ass was going.
She would probably fight me on it later.
At least I hoped like hell she would.
NO SOONER HAD I dialed the 9–1-1 than her gorgeous eyes fluttered open and she swatted the phone right out of my hand. “No ambulance.”
“Dammit, Talia, you just passed out. This is not a hangover, it’s a fucking head injury, sweetheart.” I tried to reach the phone with my foot. “You’re going to the hospital whether you like it or not.”
She laid her palm on my chest, her hand was cold even through the fabric of my shirt. “I’ll go but not in an ambulance. If there is a commotion and paramedics show up, Ali will hear about it. Someone will call her and she’ll walk away from her contract to be here.” Her eyes fluttered closed tiredly. “Please, Spencer,” she pleaded.
Of course, I agreed.
It was an interesting trip through the lobby, me carrying her out in the most nonchalant—what a fucking joke—way possible. Luck was on our side, however. Stony was on duty and didn’t bat a red-rimmed eye at my hasty explanation that she’d twisted her ankle. She was more awake for the encounter and managed to smile at him with enough sincerity that he returned his attention to his phone with little more than a muttered ‘have a good day.’
Once we were outside, she tensed in my arms at the bracing cold and clutched so tightly it was like she was trying to crawl inside my shirt.
Damn. I forgot her coat.
I sat her in the passenger seat of my car and stood in the open door long enough to remove my own wool coat—which I’d been wearing before her collapse—and drape it over her, promising to crank the heat as soon as I got in. For once, she made no move to argue, pulling the coat around her with a shiver and quietly nodding.
Not for the first time, I was thankful for the Chevelle’s powerful engine. I got us to the hospital faster than I’d thought possible. Traffic lights were rarely on your side in D.C. but that afternoon, we were lucky.
I would have run them anyway, but still.
I gingerly lifted her from the car and carried her inside. The Emergency waiting room was half-full of people in various stages of distress, all looking like they’d been there for a while. Not a good sign.
I lowered Talia into the nearest seat and marched up to the desk. “Hi.” I spoke to the bored- looking woman behind the counter. “My friend fell and hit her head pretty hard this morning, and then collapsed a few minutes ago.” I pointed back to where I left her. “I think she has a concussion.”
The woman looked mildly amused. “Do you now? Well, we’ll have to see about that.” She passed me a clipboard, sparing Talia barely a glance and thoroughly pissing me off. I had just opened my mouth to tell her what I thought of her attitude when someone gasped behind me. She and I both turned just in time to see Talia’s crumpled form sliding from her chair and onto the f
loor.
ONCE TALIA HAD been dramatically carted to the back on a stretcher, leaving me in the waiting room for what felt like eons, they did the necessary tests and called me back to be with her.
The orderly who had come to fetch me left with a friendly smile, pulling the drab, greenish curtain closed behind him.
Talia rested on the narrow bed, a bit more color in her cheeks and an IV in her arm. She patted the spot beside her and I carefully took a seat.
“What did the doctors say? Why do you keep passing out? Are you sure you don’t want me to call someone?”
She reached over and squeezed my hand. “No word yet on why I collapsed at the apartment, though more than one nurse mentioned a concussion, especially when they thought I was unconscious and couldn’t hear them. Technically, only the doctor is supposed to give diagnosis.”
I narrowed my gaze at her. “What do you mean when they thought you were unconscious?”
“I may have exaggerated that second episode a tad,” she said with a timid look.
“You mean you faked the collapse in the waiting room?” I asked her, incredulous.
She shrugged. “It seemed like the best option. The nurse was in no hurry to help and—if that bulging vein in your forehead was any indication—you were about to get yourself into trouble. Plus, my freaking head was killing me, and I didn’t feel like sitting out there all night.”
“I was out there scared shitless that you had brain damage or something, thinking that if I’d only called an ambulance like I wanted to, you might have been okay.” I was struggling my way through equal parts anger and amusement, but she still needed to understand what her little stunt did to me. “If you’re going to do some crazy shit like that, how about giving me a heads-up first next time?”
She looked properly chastised and I was about to let her off the hook when my phone chirped in my pocket. Standing, I took it out and read the text. Brant checking in since I hadn’t been around all weekend.