“Did you ever think that maybe you shouldn’t listen to people’s private conversations?”
“No.”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t.”
“If she waits for me to grow up before she dates, she’ll be too old.”
Cal tossed the ball to the kid. “She’ll never be too old for someone to love her,” he said. He was flailing around in his mind for more to add, something meaningful and deep that would satisfy the boy.
And keep him from repeating his fears to his mother. That was all Morgan needed—to think she had to start dating to meet her son’s needs.
Dating wasn’t something Cal could help her with.
And he sure as hell didn’t like the idea of her going out with someone else just to satisfy a need in her son’s fragile psyche.
“Your mother will date when…”
Cal had no idea what he was going to say—was making it up as he went—and was thankfully interrupted by the back door opening.
And then he stood speechless for an entirely different reason.
Frank Whittier stood there, dressed in basketball shorts that hung to his knees, a T-shirt that left no doubt the old man still had the chest and shoulders to be an athlete and a pair of scuffed basketball shoes.
“You need some help with your footwork, son,” he said. “Here, let me show you.” Frank took the ball from Sammie’s grasp, and for the next half hour he monopolized the boy’s mind with the things he should be thinking about—the intricacies of good basketball.
* * *
MORGAN CLEANED LIKE a madwoman while Sammie was with her parents on Sunday. Saying goodbye to her son, telling him to have a good time and to tell her parents hello for her had been the second-hardest thing she’d done in her life. The first had been sitting up all the previous Friday night waiting to hear if Sammie was dead or alive. To know if he was ever coming home to her again.
She knew he’d be coming back Sunday night. She just didn’t know if his return would be temporary.
And so she cleaned. Her closet. Sammie’s closet. The kitchen cupboards and refrigerator. She cleaned out her desk drawers and the bathroom drawers. She did the usual dusting and vacuuming and scouring, too. And when her mother called to say that they were taking Sammie out to his favorite gourmet burger place for dinner and would be bringing him home late, Morgan didn’t argue. Though, technically, she had the right to.
She baked chocolate-chip cookies instead. Sammie’s favorite.
And then ate half a batch of them waiting for him to get home.
At which time, stuffed from his dinner out, he was too full to eat them. He took his gaming device, kissed her good-night and went to bed. Not even noticing that one of the things she’d cleaned out of his room was the baby monitor.
* * *
AFTER A NEARLY SLEEPLESS night, Morgan dragged herself into class Monday morning. Attendance made up a percentage of her grade and she wasn’t going to put Professor Whittier in the awkward position of having to either grade her down or do her a favor. She didn’t want any favors.
Several reasons accounted for her lack of sleep. No monitor. Too many cookies. And too little Sammie. She was panicked that their time together was coming to an end.
Cal looked great that morning. Wearing a white shirt, dark blue pants and tie, and maroon leather shoes, he could have walked out of one of her dad’s boardrooms. Or off a film set.
He was giving an overview of their final paper. Morgan already had hers half-done. She’d chosen to write about Mark Twain’s lifelong message and had way more to say than the word count would allow.
Bella didn’t seem to have any grasp on her paper, based on the number of questions she had.
Cal tended to his adoring fans with the grace of a great movie star, exuding a sexiness that kept every woman in his sphere riveted.
It was embarrassing, really, the way her classmates flirted with him. Thinking that because he was male, all he would care was that they were sexy and blonde and available.
Morgan was sure he’d experienced his share of erotic sexual encounters. She bet he knew his way around a woman’s body—every curve and nub and opening.
Grabbing her water bottle from her pack, Morgan took a long sip of water. Cal glanced her way, letting his gaze rest on her for an excruciatingly long second before he moved on, leaving her a bit warmer than before.