Love Burns

by Adrian J. Smith

  Michael brushed away tears. “Really?”

  “Really, really. I promise.”

  Nodding, Michael stepped away just enough for Bradley to sneak out of the front door and shut it. Within another second, Michael was at the door, on the floor, throwing the world’s biggest fit. Kimberly sighed and slowly went to get up, but Becca stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

  “I’ve got this one.”

  She headed over to him, sat next to him on the floor and pulled his small form into her lap. Becca leaned against the wall and shushed him gently, letting him cry. Michael curled into her, and she pressed a kiss to his head.

  “What’s going on, kiddo? What are you feeling?”

  “I’m sad,” he muttered through sniffled sobs. “I miss my daddy.”

  “I bet you do. But you know your daddy will come back, right? He’s not gone forever. He’ll always come back for you.”

  Michael nodded visibly calmed. His sobs became less, his sniffles further in between and he wiped his eyes, even though they were mostly dry. After a few more minutes of snuggling, Michael tensed and gasped.

  “What?” Becca asked.

  “My cereal is soggy.” The whine was once again in his tone, and Becca knew she’d have to head it off before he had a second breakdown for the morning.

  “You know what? You’re probably right. Why don’t you go get dressed for the day, and just this once, I’ll make you a brand-new bowl.”

  “Really?” Michael asked sheepishly.

  “Really, really,” Becca answered.

  Michael burst up from her lap and raced down to his room. Becca was far slower to get up, but once she got to the kitchen, Kimberly stared at her with a look she couldn’t quite read. It was either surprise or appreciation, but there was something else mixed in that Becca couldn’t put her finger on.

  Kimberly broke the silence first as Becca set the soggy cereal into the sink. “He really is an ass, but he’s also a great dad.”

  “I can see that,” Becca answered, unconvinced.

  “He really is.”

  “Why did he think he could just come in here like that?”

  Kimberly glanced down the hallway toward Michael’s room. “He wanted to stay married. I didn’t. I’m not going to stay with someone who obviously isn’t into me that way—or women in general. He loves me still—or the idea of me. He loves Michael. But I did not want an open relationship. I did not want to be made to feel like I was less than. So I kicked him out after I caught him cheating again and told him to go live his own life, which he is doing a really crappy job at.”

  Becca snorted. “I guess.”

  “Oh no, he is. He lives about three lives—one as an invasive cardiologist at the hospital, one as a father and one as a college boy who parties every night of the week and jumps on top of anyone who will let him.”

  “What?” Surprise laced Becca’s tone. She grabbed another bowl and set it on the counter.

  “It’s true. Want to make me one of those?”

  Without thinking, Becca grabbed a second and third bowl for each of them. “How’s your arm this morning?”

  “Sore. All of me is sore. I feel like I’m a hundred years old.”

  “Definitely don’t look a hundred. Maybe fifty,” Becca teased.

  Kimberly smirked.

  “Word of advice, though, before Michael comes back in here. Don’t have those conversations or talk to Bradley like that in front of him.” Becca wasn’t sure she wanted to see Kimberly’s reaction, but she hoped she’d listened.

  “I know. I try, but I get sucked into it.”

  Becca kept her mouth shut, knowing that if she said anything else it wouldn’t help the situation and would probably only push Kimberly in the opposite direction than she wanted. She finished making their breakfast and poured herself and Kimberly some coffee. Michael came running out and sat next to his mom. Becca put the bowl in front of him, and he dug into it.

  “Seeing as how you’re going to be here all day now, would you mind if I take the time for myself?”

  “Got a hot date?” Kimberly shot back, malice edging her tone.

  “No. I have an exam coming up, and I would like the extra time to study.”

  Kimberly turned her head slightly and narrowed her eyes in question.

  “I’m working on my bachelor’s degree, remember? I only have a couple of semesters left. Didn’t you read my file?”

  “Of course I did.”

  Becca could clearly see she had not. Shoving the odd feeling off, she explained, “I’m working on getting my degree in teaching. I want to teach elementary school.”

  “Oh.”

  “Anyway, I have a test. I could really use the time to study if you don’t need me today.”

  “Sure.”

  Becca escaped to her room and sat on her bed with her cereal bowl in hand. That had been a far more eventful morning than she had anticipated. Settling into the quiet of her room—her sanctuary—Becca mentally took note of everything she wanted to accomplish that day. She was going to make the most of her newfound free time.

  * * * *

  Kimberly finally got the courage to knock on the door. Michael was busy playing, and she had to go into work. The texts and phone calls had gotten to be too much. There was some type of gastro bug going around the kitchen, and her hard, fast rule was ‘do not come in sick.’ Well, that meant people weren’t coming into work and the kitchen was shorthanded, not to mention that they had a party of twenty coming in for dinner in the next hour. She couldn’t put it off any longer.

  Becca had left with such finesse that she wasn’t sure she wanted to interrupt her. She’d appeared for lunch but had disappeared quickly back into her room. Kimberly had taken as much of the day to relax as she could and to rearrange her schedule so she could properly see the doctors who would surely yell at her for working, but she had no other choice.

  Every time she had thought about walking down the hall to talk to Becca or check in with her, she’d had to remind herself she had no reason to do it. That, and embarrassment welled up in her belly and chest over everything Becca had witnessed that morning. Thus far she had been able to keep the nanny separate from the drama in her personal life, but Becca had seemed to slam face-first into it.

  Forming a fist with her good hand, Kimberly rapped her knuckles three times against the door. Anxiety bubbled in her belly, and she had to draw in a short breath before she heard the sweet voice call her inside. Opening the door, Kimberly was not prepared for the scene that hit her.

  Becca lay perched in her bed, dirty dishes on her nightstand, laptop on her lap and glasses sitting atop her nose. Her tank top was low on her chest, her shorts riding high on her long and lean legs. Becca barely glanced up to acknowledge Kimberly.

  “Looks like you made yourself at home,” Kimberly stated, crossing her arms carefully and leaning one shoulder against the doorframe.

  Slowly looking up, Becca pulled the glasses from her face and popped them on top of her head. She raised her eyebrow in Kimberly’s direction. “If you’d rather I not live here, I could leave.”

  “No!” Kimberly stood up straight and put both her hands out. “That’s not what I meant. You just look comfy is all.”

  “Comfy in my own room.”

  “Yeah…” Kimberly trailed off. “Anyway, I have to go in to Gamma’s.”

  “You said you weren’t going.”

  “I have to. There’s no way around it. I will take it easy, Scout’s honor. But I do need to go help. They’re short staffed. I won’t be there all night, but I need you to watch Michael as we’d originally discussed. My schedule has changed because, you know”—she raised her wrapped hand in the air and waved it—“this. I put it on the calendar as best I could. Had to delay a trip to New York, but that’s life.”

  “All right. When?”

  “In ten minutes or so?”

  “Got it.”

  Kimberly found her feet rooted to the floor
as Becca stood up from the bed. Her gaze skimmed over Becca’s curves as she sashayed toward her dresser, ignoring her still in the doorway. Somewhere deep in Kimberly’s belly, heat flared, and try as she might, she couldn’t tamp it down.

  Before she became the creepy boss, she spun around and headed to her own room to get ready for work. It didn’t take her long to dress and head out of the door. The drive was fast, and when she walked into Gamma’s, all her stress vanished. She was in her zone, and that she could control.

  Once in the kitchen, she shouted out orders to help where she could, and when she realized there was no way to get around cooking, she pulled a glove over her left hand and did what she could without using it as much as possible. She shifted sauté pans around, cleaned the plates after they were finished and ready to go out, and she kept the kitchen running like clockwork.

  As soon as the dinner rush was over, everything calmed and quieted. Kimberly glanced at the clock for the first time since entering the building and cringed. It was later than she’d expected, and she hadn’t gotten any of her paperwork completed.

  Her desk was scattered with papers and sticky notes, but she had to wade through it all to get some work done. Her wrist pulsed sharply in the wrap the nurses had done up, and her back and shoulder were just as sore. She really should have listened and stayed home, and she would no doubt pay for it when she got back later that night. Kimberly checked the profit and loss statement from the previous night and week, set up the final touches on the menu specials for the weekend that was fast approaching and reworked the schedule to avoid the sick and the injured personnel as much as possible.

  Grimacing, she rolled her chair out from the desk and rubbed her tired eyes. Nothing good could come out of a broken wrist for her. Flexing her fingers, pain streaked up her arm to her elbow and she groaned. Her fingers were swollen. Her hand was swollen. Her feet and ankles were as well. Regretting coming in, she shut down her computer, closed her office and headed for the kitchen door. The kitchen was under control and she could leave without everything falling apart.

  The car drive home was long, but she made it. Clambering out of the driver’s seat and into the house, she near collapsed on the couch and rested her feet on it. The house was quiet—blessedly quiet. She toed off her tennis shoes then peeled off her socks, wincing at how swollen her feet and ankles were.

  “You’re home late. Michael kept asking for you.”

  Becca’s voice caused a cascade of shivers to run down Kimberly’s spine. She let out a breath and closed her eyes, enjoying the dark. “It was a complete disaster when I got there.”

  “I suppose you fixed everything.”

  “Mostly. Can’t fix stupid, though.”

  The cushion of the couch by her feet shifted, and Kimberly opened her eyes to find Becca sitting on the edge. They stared each other down, and Kimberly eventually shifted so Becca could be more comfortable. “Here… You’ll want this.”

  Kimberly took the proffered ice packs and kitchen towels. She settled them against her arm and sighed as the cool hit her skin. It was exactly what she needed. “This is heavenly. Thank you.”

  “Michael wants to learn to read.”

  “I guess it’s about time.”

  “I can teach him, if you’d like. It’ll be good practice for me.”

  “Sure. I can’t. I’m a horrible teacher. I have no patience for it.” After a brief moment of silence, Kimberly licked her lips and spoke again. “I’m sorry about this morning. You really did not need to see that or be drawn into our drama.”

  “Don’t worry about it—”

  “No, really, I’m sorry. I don’t apologize often, as you so cleverly pointed out, so take it when I give it.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Becca smarted back.

  Kimberly rolled her eyes and shook her head while a smile tugged at her lips. “You’re just as smart with that mouth as I am sometimes.”

  “You like it. Don’t deny it.”

  Chuckling, Kimberly nodded. “Yeah, I suppose I do. It’s annoying—don’t get me wrong—but I would also call myself annoying, after, you know, a bossy bitch.”

  As soon as the words left her mouth, the air was sucked out of the room. Kimberly knew she had taken a misstep somewhere, but she couldn’t figure out where.

  “I wouldn’t call you a bitch. Blunt, yes. Stubborn. You know what you want, and you’re not afraid to get it. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “Sometimes there is.” Kimberly grinned and shifted the ice pack slightly. “I’ll let you get to bed. I’m just going to lie here until I morph into the couch.”

  Laughing, Becca stood up. “See you in the morning.”

  Once again alone, Kimberly flipped on the television to completely zone out to whatever was on. She wasn’t quite sure what she would have done without Becca there the last two days. Either way, she was very glad she had her to rely on, even if it was a struggle to admit she needed help.

  Chapter Four

  The afternoon was quiet. Kimberly was at work, and Michael was curled up on the couch reading his book to her for the hundredth time that day. He knew every word by heart, so Becca knew he wasn’t actually reading—rather, he was reciting from memory. She smiled as he read through it once more. Becca took the book from him, hoping to distract him, and smiled.

  “How about we learn to really read a book?”

  “Oh! Yeah. That sounds fun! Which book?”

  “I have a special one in my room just for that. Let me go get it.”

  Becca got up and Michael followed, bouncing on the balls of his feet as they went. She opened her door to her semi-clean room and found the book she’d left on her dresser for just that reason. After walking to the couch, they sat down. Becca opened it to the first lesson.

  “We’re going to learn sounds, then we’ll learn the words when we can put sounds together. Okay?”

  “Okay. What sound is this?” Michael pointed to a letter.

  “Eh.”

  “What about this one?” He touched another.

  “Michael. Be patient. We have to focus in order to learn, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Here’s the first sound.” Becca read it and touched just under the sound. Michael repeated after her. They spent the next thirty minutes going through the three sounds and repeating them slow then fast then slow again—then rhyming words together. Michael looked ecstatic, but he tired of the lesson as she expected he would. Once he was fidgeting and not paying close attention, Becca put the book down and turned on the television. She found the guide and put on some music.

  “Let’s have a dance party.”

  “Oh yeah!” Michael stood up and danced barefoot on the rug in the living area. Becca made sure to set the music to something upbeat, then she joined in.

  She was laughing as she tried to copy Michael’s dance moves and giggling when he tried to copy hers. Neither of them were very good dancers, but they were having fun and burning energy, which had been Becca’s goal. After the third song, Becca grabbed her phone and took a video of Michael dancing.

  He laughed. “Who will see that?”

  “I thought I would send it to my mom. She always loves to see what we’re doing.”

  Michael grabbed Becca’s phone and played the video again, laughing at himself as he did a particularly interesting and wild move. “Can my mom see this, too?”

  “You want me to send it to her?”

  “No. A different one. You and me dancing. We’ll show her that one.”

  “What? I don’t think your mom will want to see that.”

  “Yeah. Both us.” Michael grabbed Becca’s hand and tugged. “Please!”

  Giving in, Becca set up the phone on one of the side tables, and she hit record as soon as the next song came over the television. Michael grabbed her hands and together they danced and laughed as the music blasted. Once it was done, Michael ran over to the phone, waved, told his mom he loved her then brought Becca the phone.
/>   “Now show it to my mom.”

  “Give me a minute.” Becca flipped through her contacts, sent it to her mom with a note. Then she sent the text to Kimberly, hesitating for only a brief moment before she picked which video to send, but Michael had told her the one with both of them. She typed out a short message, attached the video and hit send, hoping Kimberly didn’t think too poorly of her.

  “I’m thirsty,” he said.

  Becca laughed. “Let’s get some water then. We can dance more tomorrow.”

  As soon as they made it into the kitchen, Michael chugged his glass of water and asked politely for more. He drank down his second glass and asked for a third. Becca’s eyes widened. She filled it again but told him to drink more slowly this time.

  Michael set his cup on the counter. “I’m hungry.”

  “When are you not, kiddo?”

  He laughed. “What’s for dinner?”

  “I have no idea. What do you think we should have?”

  “Hmmm…” Michael folded his arms across his chest and put his finger to his mouth like he was thinking. “Cereal?” Michael cracked himself up, laughing at how funny he thought he was.

  Becca opened the refrigerator. “We had cereal for breakfast. I don’t think we should have it again for dinner.”

  “Chicken?”

  “Maybe. I think there’s some leftover from the other night.”

  “Bleh.” He pulled a face.

  Becca scrunched her nose. “What? You didn’t like my chicken?”

  “No way!” He laughed again.

  “What about pasta?”

  “Lasagna?” he specified.

  “Let’s see if we have the stuff for it.”

  Becca rustled around in the fridge then in the pantry. She found most everything she usually used except one of the cheeses. Though she had never cooked with such fresh cheeses before, she pulled everything out and set it on the counter.

  “Okay, kiddo. We can make lasagna, but you have to help me.”

  “Mom doesn’t let me cook.”

  “What? Why?” Becca searched for a casserole dish and set it on the counter before reaching to grab a pan.