The Family You Make

by Jill Shalvis

  She lifted her head again, suddenly having trouble drawing air into her lungs. “But you promised. You promised not to fall for me.”

  His gaze met hers, his own warm and loving. “Some promises are meant to be broken.”

  This had her breaking out into a cold sweat of sheer nerves. “How can you be so sure?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve been sure on my end of things since that night you stood over me bleeding on the floor of that gondola, stripping out of your clothes.”

  She choked out a laugh past the emotions clogging her throat. “I didn’t strip out of all my clothes!”

  He smiled, but then let it fade. “You’re a tough nut to crack, Jane. I’ve only been able to hope that I was slowly worming my way into your heart as well. But now . . .”

  “Now what?” she whispered.

  “Sometimes I catch you looking at me like I’m a cookies ’n’ cream cupcake,” he whispered back.

  Was he right? No. Because he was better than a cupcake. “Maybe I’m really just thinking about a cookies ’n’ cream cupcake.”

  He smiled. “You’re a cute liar.”

  Maybe, but she wasn’t capable of baring her heart and soul. She didn’t know how. “I’ll show you cute,” she said, needing to change the direction of this conversation.

  His eyes said he knew she was holding back, but he didn’t call her on it. Instead he smiled and said, “Please do.”

  So she did.

  All night long.

  She’d been trying to prove a point to herself, but hell if she could remember said point. And it didn’t matter because what had started out funny and teasing ended up being the most meaningful night of her life.

  Chapter 26

  The next morning, Jane jerked awake at the sound of her alarm.

  A long arm reached over her and hit snooze.

  She turned and faced the naked man in her bed. The naked man with sexy scruff on his jaw and a glint of intent in his eyes as he pulled her into him and kissed her.

  “Wait!”

  Levi pulled back a fraction and lifted a brow.

  “Um, hi.”

  His mouth quirked. “Hi.”

  She squirmed a bit, and not just because she didn’t know how to do morning-afters, but because she was naked too, which was a whole lot of nakedness pressed up against more nakedness. He felt warm and sexy and . . . hello, ready to start the day.

  “Ignore that,” he said. “What did you want to tell me?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  He laughed softly and lowered his head again.

  It was two snoozes and an orgasm later before she gasped and leapt out of bed. “Oh my God, I’m going to be late.”

  “I thought your shift didn’t start until eight.” He squinted at the clock. “It’s not even the butt crack of dawn.”

  She was hopping into the clothes he’d so helpfully got her out of the night before. “I’m meeting my grandpa for breakfast. I’ll grab a shower at work—”

  He caught her at her bedroom door. He’d had time to pull on only his jeans, but hadn’t fastened them. Gently he pressed her back against the wood, cupped her face, and gave her a drugging kiss so full of longing and desire and affection, she forgot she was in a hurry.

  “Good morning,” he whispered against her mouth.

  She stared at him and then narrowed her gaze. “Do you hear that?”

  He cocked his head. “Hear what?”

  She slid out from between him and the door and went hands on hips, staring around her room. Her gaze landed on the blanket that had slid to the very bottom of her bed, balled up. There was a suspicious lump under that blanket.

  And it was . . . purring.

  “Cat?”

  The lump stopped moving.

  “I know it’s you,” Jane said. “I can hear you purring.”

  The purring stopped.

  “Oh my God.” She pulled the blanket back from the bed and Cat blinked her gray eyes up at Jane lazily. Innocently. “Don’t even try,” she said. “We’ve agreed that mi casa es su casa, but my bed is my bed.”

  Cat just stared at her.

  “I mean it. You’re nocturnal. The other night you batted my hair in the middle of the night. You stole my pillow. You knocked things off my shelves . . .”

  Cat’s expression was boredom personified.

  “We agreed you’d sleep on the floor,” Jane said. “A point that we negotiated at two A.M. and was finally agreed on by both parties.”

  Cat began to wash her face.

  Levi smiled. “Marches to her own beat, huh?”

  She choked out a laugh. “That describes both of my current bedmates.”

  “And are you comparing me to your cat?”

  “Well, she does remind me of you,” she pointed out. “Confident. Pushing. And then there are those gray eyes . . .”

  Levi scratched the cat’s back, then along the side of her face and under her chin, and the thing actually rolled her eyes in ecstasy. The man smiled. “There are some similarities. But I’d say she’s more like you than me.”

  Jane crossed her arms. “Oh, do tell.”

  “She lets me pet her on her terms, allowing a little friendship and affection—not too much, of course—and then goes back to her life.”

  Jane narrowed her eyes.

  Levi smiled.

  The cat looked back and forth between them until, with a last flick of her tail and a sniff, she jumped down and padded out the door.

  “Humph,” Jane said, and Levi laughed and kissed her again. “Later, babe.”

  She nodded, but struck dumb by his kiss, she didn’t move. And why did that keep happening? Shouldn’t she be used to their chemistry by now?

  He grinned. “Cute. But you need to get going, remember?”

  “Huh?”

  “Your grandpa. Breakfast.”

  When he was this close to her, the only thing she thought about was getting hot and bothered with him. As if he could hear her thoughts, his hand brushed up her side, skimming the outer swell of her breast before palming her neck so his thumb could play with her lower lip. A rush of desire shot southward and she went hot all over. Damn. She pointed at him. “You do that on purpose.”

  “Feel free to get back at me any time.”

  She was still smiling ten minutes later when she pulled into the Stovetop Diner parking lot. Even after all the time she’d spent with Levi, she still wanted more. A lot more.

  Because it is real . . .

  Since that thought gave her heart palpitations, she looked around. She’d beaten her grandpa here, which was unusual, since she knew for a fact he was usually halfway through a meal by now.

  He showed up five minutes later, moving a little slower than she’d seen so far. She stood up, kissed him on his cheek, and then watched him slide into the booth as if he hurt everywhere. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m old.” He flashed a grin.

  She didn’t return it because his mirth didn’t go all the way to his eyes. “Grandpa—”

  The waitress came by with a smile and a coffeepot.

  “Bless you,” her grandpa said, and the woman, three decades younger than him, gave him a wink.

  “Hey, sexy. Your usual?” she asked.

  “Yes, thank you, doll.”

  The waitress turned and headed back to the bakery display.

  “What’s your usual?” Jane asked him.

  “Two Danish pastries.”

  “What? No. Are you kidding me? Look, I’m sure you’re on a specific diet, right? One that I know damn well can’t possibly allow for two Danish pastries.”

  He waved this off. “I’m like an old phone battery, Sugar Plum. Even when I charge myself overnight for twelve hours, by nine A.M, I’m already drained to forty percent. I need the sugar boost.”

  Jane gestured for the waitress. “Could we get two of your healthy start breakfasts? Hold the pastries?”

  The waitress looked at Grandpa, popping her gum. “I like thi
s one,” she told him.

  “Yeah, me too,” Grandpa said. “But she’s a little bossy.”

  “You could use some of that in your life.” This time the waitress winked at Jane.

  Soon as she was gone, Jane turned on her grandpa. “Do you really always eat Danishes for breakfast?”

  “Unless you’re here, yeah.”

  She was baffled. “But you had another heart attack.”

  “Yes. Had. And I’m not planning on having another unless you’re going to keep yelling at me.”

  She sighed. “We’ve talked about this. You can’t eat whatever you want anymore—that ship sailed. You have to give up the crap food.”

  He reached over and covered her hand in his. “You know I’m going to bite it and go to the farm someday no matter what I eat, right?”

  “Yes, but not any time soon, right?”

  He shrugged and dropped the eye contact. “No one knows. That’s why it’s called life.”

  She hesitated. “Something’s off,” she said quietly. “Something’s wrong. What is it?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Grandpa. You swear?”

  He lifted a hand. “I solemnly swear. I’m fine, relax. And better yet, let me relax, okay? I’ve lived a long life, I deserve some joy.”

  She stared at him. For whatever reason, she couldn’t get a bead on him this morning. She felt certain he was holding something back, but short of pushing him, which she knew would yield her nothing, she didn’t know what else to do. “Can you find joy in something other than Danishes?”

  At that, he looked into her eyes again. “I can,” he said with quiet, warm conviction. “I have.”

  She felt the threat of tears in the back of her throat and gave him a smile. “Love you.”

  “Love you, too, Sugar Plum. To the moon and back.”

  An hour later she was at work, running her butt off as usual. Halfway through her shift, she got a rare lull in patients. She eyed the screen in front of her, where she sat typing her reports. Then she looked around.

  No one was paying her any attention.

  She sucked in a breath, cracked her knuckles, and did something she was not allowed to do. She typed in her grandpa’s name, accessed his patient records—in Tahoe, all the doctors were contractors to the hospital, so all the records were stored in one system—and began to read.

  Chapter 27

  Charlotte’s workday was its usual crazy, so by the time she made it to the break room, desperate for caffeine and a bite of something, she was beyond famished. She crossed the room, heading to the staff fridge before she remembered she hadn’t packed herself anything.

  Damn. She was channeling Jane now.

  “Whatever is in your bag, it smells amazing when you open the fridge,” Sandra said to her.

  Charlotte turned in surprise. “What?”

  “Your lunch. There’s a big brown bag in there with your name on it. Smells like Mexican food, and I’m jealous as hell.”

  Charlotte opened the fridge and gaped. Because there was indeed a big brown bag in there with her name on it, and it smelled delicious. “I didn’t pack myself anything.”

  “Well then, can we pretend it says Sandra on it?” the nurse asked with a laugh.

  Hell, no. Because she was pretty sure she recognized that handwriting, and the person who’d written it could cook, maybe even better than she could. So she took the bag out of the fridge and to the counter, and opened it up.

  There was a glass container filled with what looked like two enchiladas, a side of tortilla chips, and pico de gallo.

  Her mouth watered as she pulled out the folded note.

  C,

  Enjoy.

  Love, M

  She stood there frozen in place.

  Love, M . . . ?

  In her pocket, her phone buzzed, indicating an incoming text, and she pulled it out.

  MATEO: Check the fridge before the vultures get to it.

  CHARLOTTE: You didn’t have to!

  MATEO: Actually, I didn’t. If you’ll remember, I ended up in your bed last night when I got home at midnight. My mom left me a fridge full of food. And I know you didn’t have time to cook in your kitchen, since we were cooking in your bedroom until dawn, and I didn’t want you to be hungry.

  Charlotte laughed out loud, then bit her lower lip when Sandra glanced over at her. She shook her head at the nurse. “Nothing,” she said.

  “Nothing my ass,” Sandra said on a grin. “I wouldn’t mind having someone put that look on my face. The one that says you’ve been kept up all night in the very best of ways. Tell me it’s Dr. Hottie Patottie.”

  “There are some things a woman should keep to herself,” Charlotte said with a smile.

  Sandra grinned back. “Well, whatever you’re keeping to yourself, it agrees with you.”

  Charlotte headed to the ER and pulled Mateo into a corner.

  “The note,” she said.

  “Good, you got it. I wasn’t sure the food would be safe.”

  “The note,” she said again, hearing a touch of hysteria in her voice.

  Mateo just looked at her.

  “‘Love, M’?”

  His dark eyes never wavered from hers. “Yes.”

  “You . . . love me?”

  His hands came up to her face. “Yes,” he said simply.

  She drew in a shuddery breath.

  “I don’t expect—”

  “I love you too. But—”

  He winced at the but.

  “But,” she said softly, “I’m not the girl who dreamed about a wedding and kids. I’m . . .” She shook her head. “I’m still not sure I see those things for myself.”

  “A piece of paper linking us . . . kids . . .” He smiled into her eyes. “I can do without those things. What I can’t do without is you, Charlotte.”

  Heart. Melted.

  He started to kiss her, but someone was calling his name urgently from down the hall and he straightened. “We’re swamped. I gotta go. But I can’t until I know we’re okay.”

  She smiled. “We’re more than okay.”

  He smiled back and vanished.

  Still smiling, she left the building and walked over to the urgent care next door to share her lunch with Jane.

  She found her sitting behind the counter staring off into space, looking pale.

  And maybe like she’d been crying.

  “What is it?” Charlotte asked.

  Jane just shook her head.

  “Jane—”

  “What is that amazing scent?”

  Charlotte looked around. There was no one waiting to be seen. “Let’s take lunch.”

  They went into the back, heated the container, then sat at the small staff table and shared the food.

  “Mateo cooked this?” Jane asked after shoving in a few big bites. “You’re going to have to marry him, you do realize that, right?”

  “It’s his mom’s cooking.”

  “But he shared it with you.”

  “Yes,” Charlotte said, unable to keep the small smile off her face.

  Jane took in her expression and nodded with satisfaction, though the good humor didn’t make it all the way to her eyes. “He’s the One.”

  Charlotte set her fork down. “You ready to talk?”

  “No.”

  “But you will anyway?”

  Jane pushed the food back. “My grandpa has cancer.”

  Charlotte felt the breath stutter in her throat. “Oh, Jane. I’m—”

  “—Sorry?” Jane shook her head. “I am too.” She looked away. “I’m . . .” She stood up and paced the room. “I’m feeling a lot of things.”

  “You’re angry,” Charlotte said softly.

  “Damn right I am.”

  “It’s one of the first emotions to hit with a cancer diagnosis.”

  Jane stopped pacing, “I’m not one of your patient’s family members.”

  Charlotte nodded. “Of course not. I’m sorry.”

&nb
sp; Jane closed her eyes for a beat, then sighed. “No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. He didn’t tell me about it. I wasn’t important enough to him. I had to find out on my own.”

  Charlotte’s first thought was pain and fury for Jane, who’d started to trust her grandpa after a life filled with hard-earned mistrust of her family. If the man had been standing here, Charlotte could have killed him with her bare hands. Her second thought gave her an icy shiver. “Jane. Tell me you didn’t defy HIPAA—”

  Jane’s face closed off and Charlotte’s heart took another hard kick. “Jane . . .” She broke off when her phone beeped. Work. She was needed in the OR stat.

  “Go,” Jane said. “I’m fine.”

  No, she wasn’t, but Charlotte had no choice. “I’ll call you soon as I can.”

  Jane turned away and nodded, and Charlotte had to walk away. One of the hardest things she’d ever done.

  JANE MOVED ROBOTICALLY through the rest of her shift. The second it was over, she went straight to her car and started driving. Charlotte had been right. She needed to talk this out with her grandpa. Without jumping to conclusions. It made perfect sense. It was the logical thing to do.

  But here was the thing. She didn’t feel logical. Which undoubtedly was the reason that when she parked, she found herself at Levi’s house.

  Probably because her heart knew what her brain had accepted: that in that moment, she needed Levi. She could feel the vibration of panic and anxiety just beneath her skin. She was scared and angry, and on the verge of losing it as she got out of her car.

  Levi opened the door before she got to it. “You’re off early—” he started, but then his smile faded as he came down the steps to meet her. “What’s wrong?”

  She bit down hard on her lip, but the tears came anyway, silently spilling down her cheeks.

  “Are you hurt? Where?” He reached for her, reeling her in, eyes sharp as they ran over every inch of her.

  “Not hurt,” she managed. “Just . . . I got some hard news, but I can’t say it yet.” Not without completely losing it. “I need a minute.”

  His eyes were filled with a deep concern, and there was a grim set to his mouth as he gathered her into his arms and held her close, resting his cheek against the top of her head. “Whatever it is, Jane, I’m right here. We’ll deal with it.”