Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Though it looked like I was reading the book, I couldn’t focus on anything but the fact that my mom was in my house. I was on edge, listening as she walked over to the sink and set her plate in it, then walked out to the living room.
“Guess I’ll get that shower,” she said. “And then I’m going to crash. I’m tired.”
It was late afternoon, and I wondered how long it had been since she’d last slept. When I was a kid, she’d gone days at a time without sleep sometimes, and other times she’d slept sixteen hours a day.
I tried to pay attention to the book, which was about a WWII pilot, but I kept having to read the same sentence over and over. It wasn’t until a tear splashed onto the page that I realized I was crying.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Beau
Shit. Both my hands were occupied balancing the tower of dishes my mom had packaged leftovers for Shelby in, topped with a wrapped gift I didn’t want to drop. How was I going to knock on her door?
I used the toe of my boot, tapping it against the door several times and hoping she’d hear it. Fortunately, she did, and she opened the door.
“Beau?”
I craned my neck to look at her around the massive stack of dishes. “Yeah, it’s me. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas. Come on in,” she said. “What’s all this?”
“My mom sent food for when you’re feeling better. Everyone missed you.”
I carried Shelby’s loot into the kitchen and set it on her table. “You’ve got prime rib, ham, two kinds of potatoes, corn casserole, cranberry salad, and chocolate cheesecake.”
She shook her head at the assortment of dishes and laughed. “That’ll last me days, Beau. If I can even eat it.”
Now that my view wasn’t blocked by the dishes, I got my first good look at her and knew immediately that something was wrong. She wore flannel pants and a T-shirt. Her hair was wet, probably fresh from shower, and her eyes looked red and swollen. I’d never seen her look anything but polished and put together.
“How are you feeling?” I asked her.
She sighed, her shoulders sinking. “Not as sick as yesterday, but…” She looked over her shoulder and spoke in a low tone. “I’m kind of shook up from getting an unexpected visitor.”
“Oh, Jesus. Is that code for your period? Is the baby okay?”
She put a hand on her stomach, whispering now. “No, the baby’s fine. It’s my mom. She knocked on my door with no warning and she’s asleep in my guest room right now. And I don’t want her to know I’m pregnant, okay?”
“Yeah, of course.”
That must have been why she’d been crying. Shelby hadn’t told me much about her mom, but what I knew wasn’t good. I stepped closer and wrapped my arms around her. She stiffened momentarily, but then her whole body relaxed and she sank against my chest.
“How long does she plan to be here?” I whispered near her ear.
“I don’t know. She looks bad, though. I think she might be homeless.”
“Damn, I’m sorry.”
After a minute, she pulled away and looked up at me, tears shining in her eyes. “That was really nice of your mom to send the food. Tell her I said thanks.”
The pain in her eyes tore at my heart. Shelby didn’t deserve to feel this way.
“Hey,” I said, cupping her cheek in my palm. “It’s going to be okay.”
She nodded, swiping beneath her eyes as the tears fell. “Yeah, I know. It’ll be fine.” She plastered on a smile. “You mentioned potatoes, and those actually sound really good. I might have some. Thanks again for dropping the food off.”
“Oh, I’m not leaving,” I said, taking my coat off and hanging it on the back of a chair. “I don’t know if you saw what’s underneath all these containers, but I snagged my parents’ Scrabble game. Thought we could play.”
She smiled. “I never say no to Scrabble.”
Damn, I liked seeing her smile. Making her smile. And I liked being close enough to smell the light, sweet fragrance of her bodywash or shampoo. Whatever it was, I liked it.
I moved the containers of food into one pile on the table, sorting out the Scrabble game and two wrapped presents.
“This one’s from my parents,” I said, passing her one of the presents. “And this one is from me.”
She cringed. “Beau, you guys shouldn’t have done that. I don’t have anything for you.”
I grinned. “I’ve got everything I need, plus a bunch of stuff in my car my family got me.” I looked down at the box I’d passed her, which my mom had wrapped in paper with snowflakes all over it.
She unwrapped the present and pulled out a gray cashmere cardigan, just like the ones my mom had given my sisters and Chloe for Christmas.