Loving Violet (Rockers' Legacy Book 4)

Again, I nodded, not caring if she stayed or went. But I wasn’t going anywhere.

Chapter 46

Luca

I stared down at the salted caramel covered fries and then looked at the housekeeper. “I know he said this was one of her favorite things to eat, but damn, this looks nasty.”

Mrs. Briggs gave me a small smile. “It is one of her favorites. She craves sweet and salty. I’ve made this for her many, many times over the last few months.”

“But it looks like—” I broke off, not wanting to say it aloud to this grandmotherly woman. She was what I imagined most grandmothers looked like, not like my own mom or Aunt Lana or Aunt Emmie. Her hair was liberally sprinkled with gray, and she wore huge glasses that took up most of her wrinkled face.

“Never mind what it looks like,” she said, pushing the plate closer to me. “Take it up to her and tempt her to eat.” She placed a glass of fizzy lemon-lime soda beside the plate. “And make sure she drinks all of this. I don’t know when she last drank anything.”

I placed both on a tray and picked it up. “Wish me luck.”

Upstairs, I found Violet in the fetal position with Krush pressed up against her back. She was weeping silently but gave an angry grunt when I turned on the overhead light as I walked in.

Seeing me, she rolled over and wrapped her arms around her dog. “Go away.”

“Not happening, baby.” I crossed to the bed and placed the tray on the nightstand before arranging the extra pillows against the headboard. Then I bent and lifted her until she was resting back against the pillows. She swatted at my hands when I brushed her hair back from her face then glared at me after I pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

Picking up the tray once more, I placed it over her lap. “Eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” she seethed.

“Then at least drink,” I urged.

“I’m not thirsty either.”

Swallowing a curse, I grasped her chin between my thumb and index finger and tilted her head back until she met my gaze. “Drink. I’m not playing around. With as much as you’ve been crying and not replacing the fluids, you’re probably already dehydrated. You’re going to start cramping, and the baby isn’t going to like that.”

“How do you know?”

“Dehydration could make you feel like you’re in labor. It’s in one of those pregnancy books Remington sent me months ago.” I picked up the glass and touched the rim to her bottom li

p.

“You read pregnancy books?” she asked, seeming dazed at the thought.

“Yeah.” When she took the glass from me and sipped from it, I relaxed a little.

Once a third of the glass was gone, she set it on the tray and picked up a fry smothered in salted caramel sauce and began to nibble on it. “I’m so confused,” she said, her brows pinching together.

“About what, baby?” I asked as I sat on the edge of the bed.

“I think I get why Remi wanted you to take care of me. He loved me so much and just wanted to make sure I was okay after he was gone.” She stuffed another fry into her mouth and licked her fingers. After chewing, she leaned forward. “But why would you agree?”

I reached out and tucked a few wayward strands of hair behind her ear so she didn’t get caramel sauce in it. “When you’re really ready to hear that answer, I’ll tell you. Until then, just accept that I’m not going anywhere.”

Her curious stare turned into a glare, and she sat back with a huff that rivaled Krush’s. Hiding my smile, I reached over and scratched the dog’s back. “Either you’re teaching your momma bad things, or you learned it from her.” He gave the same huff Violet had and moved his head so he was touching her.

She picked up a fry not covered in sauce and fed it to him before taking another drink of her soda. Once the glass was empty and her plate was nearly clean of everything, including extra sauce, she pushed the tray off her lap and moved to the edge of the bed. “I need to pee,” she grumbled as she stood and rushed toward the bathroom.

I waited until I heard her flush the toilet before taking the tray downstairs. Shaw was sitting at the kitchen table when I walked in, an untouched sandwich in front of her. Seeing me, she pushed her food away and stood. “How is she?”

“She ate and drank a little something for me.”

“Thank goodness,” she breathed before texting someone. “Aunt Harper has been so worried.”