Wrecking Ball (Hard to Love 1)

“Are these pancakes square?” All I get is a short nod. “Please stop looking at me that way.”

“How often does it happen?”

“May I be excused?” Sam cuts in.

“I thought since it’s raining we could go to the New York Aquarium today? What do you say?” Sam nods quickly. “Go on and get ready.” I barely finish my sentence and he’s already bolting out of his seat with a big smile on his face. His adorableness almost too much.

Turning my attention back onto the pancakes, I say, “Often enough.” I can’t look at him. I’m hanging onto the edge of control with only a bare grasp on my emotions, what that woman said about Matt hovering over me like a black cloud.

“What did she say to you?”

After a long, long pause, in which I decide I’m too beaten down to verbally spar with him, I go with the truth. “She asked if you were impotent.”

The coffee comes flying out of his nose and lands right between my breasts. Hacking and coughing, he stands so quickly the chair topples backward. I get up and pound on his back. Then he tries to dab my white button down with his napkin and I have to swat his hand away from my breast. He actually scowls at me for that.

“What did you say,” he wheezes.

“I told her you weren’t.”

That starts a whole new coughing fit. “You did?”

“A: she took me by surprise,” I indicate with my thumb. “And B: what did you want me to say? ‘I haven’t given him a prostate exam yet but I’ll let you know.’”

“Jaysus,” he half chuckles.

“Everyone will believe I’m your girlfriend now.”

His wheels are spinning, his mind jumping from one possible scenario to another. It’s all over his face, and in the way he studies mine.

“You okay with that?”

“I guess. We’ll have to see though, won’t we?” I say, resigned to my fate.

The silence feels like we’re standing on the precipice of something important, a turning point in our relationship that could go either way.

“I won’t make you regret it.” His expression is so open and earnest that I almost forget that I should be worried. “You can’t work there anymore.” There’s no thrill of victory in his voice. On the contrary, it’s comforting and kind.

“I need that job,” I say, shaking my head.

“I’m paying you for lost wages. Besides, you’re saving me a fortune in what I was paying for those specially prepared meals.”

Still too bruised and demoralized by last night’s revelations, I don’t have the will to argue. “You win.”

Except by the look on his face, I’d say he lost as well.

Chapter Sixteen

Surprises. I never cared for them. There’s nothing I hate more than the rush of adrenaline. And after having been woken in the middle of the night to be told that my husband had drowned, I hate them with a passion. So you can imagine how I feel when I’m at Whole Foods shopping, and get a text from my mother telling me to meet her at the hospital because my father had to be rushed to the emergency room. I abandon the full cart in the cereal aisle, grab Sam’s hand, and dash to the car.

Ten minutes later I pull up to the valet at the hospital, throw the keys to the attendant, and drag Sam to the ER. The nurse that checks me in directs me to examination room two after I tell her that I’m his daughter and Sam is his grandson––wink, wink.

Outside the examination room, I shoot Calvin a text. He’s at team facilities, meeting with his trainer, and will be gone for most of the day. I don’t want him to worry about Sam when he gets back to an empty house.

“Sam, just sit here for a moment, okay? I’ll be right back,” I say, pointing to the chair right outside the room my parents are in. I have no idea what to expect and if things get ugly, I don’t want him to witness it. Eyes burdened with worry, he gives me a brief nod. It’s unquantifiable how much I love this kid.

Peeling back the curtain, I find my father sitting up in bed, hooked up to a bunch of machines. Most importantly, a heart monitor. My mother’s face looks drawn, weary. And my chest wants to go ahead and collapse in on itself.

“Dad?” The adrenaline that’s busy burning through my veins turns me into a jittery mess. Though I do my very best to keep it together.

“I’m okay, Punkin’.”

“He fainted,” my mother shrills in accusation.

“I got light headed,” my father responds.

“The client found him on the floor of her bathroom––passed out.”

“I was replacing the bathroom sink.”

“Thank God, she called 911 immediately.”

“I didn’t have breakfast.”

And back and forth they go.

“They’re checking his heart for a valve leak. I told him two weeks ago to see his doctor.” Then my mother turns her full attention on the man in question. “I told you two weeks ago to see your doctor, but did you listen?”