“Of course,” the closing agent replies. “It just means that you—”
“Look.” Grier tugs at my sleeve. “Daddy, look-it.”
“Hang on, baby girl, Daddy’s working. I’ll only be another ten minutes.” I switch my attention back. “Please continue.”
“Daaaddyyyyy!” Grier hollers.
I shoot an apologetic glance at the closing agent, who smiles and looks down at Grier. “What is it?”
She points proudly at her tablet screen, which displays an array of bouncing shapes in various colors. “Square is red.”
“That’s right! Very good job. But next time, unless it’s an emergency, wait until Daddy says we can talk.” I turn back again. “Sorry.”
The guy chuckles. “I completely understand. I have a nephew about her age. Now, as I was saying . . .”
After I’ve finished signing paperwork and shaken all the congratulatory hands, I load Grier and her stuff back into the car. It’s been a couple of days since we visited Mom, and we make our way there now.
A new, short-haired nurse in blue scrubs opens Mom’s door, one of the three extras I’ve hired since Mom’s accident. “Lexington, right? I’m Dawn. Listen . . .” She lowers her voice to a murmur. “I’m afraid your mom isn’t doing well today. She’ll need to rest soon.”
I nod calmly like the words don’t send a little chill squirming around my gut. “Thanks for the heads-up. We’ll try to keep things short.”
Dawn heads to the corner with a book, and I appreciate the illusion of privacy. As we come in and sit down, Mom does indeed look exhausted and sick.
Grier clambers into Mom’s lap and stares into her eyes, her forehead crinkled with concern. “Gamma need a nap?”
God, even a two-year-old can tell.
“Soon, honey . . . but not quite yet. I can see my two babies for a little while.” Mom kisses Grier on both cheeks, exaggerating the smacking sounds to make Grier giggle. “So, what have you been up to, Lex?” Her voice is soft, barely above a whisper.
“I just came here from closing on a beach house. It’s a beautiful Victorian style. Great view of the water, not too hard to access from the highway, bay windows, and four bedrooms. It has great potential. I just have to hire a couple of contractors for some repairs and renovations, and it’ll be ready to rent out. I think tourists will love it.”
“Wonderful. I’m sure it’ll be a great investment. You always did have a nose for business. And how is Corrigan working out?”
“Uh . . .” As always, my mom zeroes right in on the thing I most don’t want to talk about. “Well, we had a little disagreement a few days ago, so I’ve been—”
She gives me a troubled frown. “That’s too bad. What about?”
The idea of telling Mom I tried to ask Corrigan out, let alone the reason she rejected me, ranks somewhere between eating needles and catching on fire. “Just a . . . personality conflict type of thing. I was being stupid.” That part isn’t inaccurate.
Now Mom’s frown is one that tells me she knows I’m lying, but she’s letting it go. For now, anyway. It’s highly likely I’ll be grilled again when I least expect it.
“Do you think she’ll still look after Grier for you?”
Oh hell, that possibility hadn’t even occurred to me. What if Corrigan never wants to see me again after I made her comfortable?
“I really hope so,” I say truthfully. Even if there’s zero chance of us dating again, I still want her in my life. I’ll take being “just friends” any day. I have very few of those in this town after being gone for so many years.
Mom presses her lips together. “I’ve been turning it over and over in my mind, Lex, and I think Grier needs a mother, not a nanny.”
I heave out a sigh and glance over to where Grier’s now playing with the lace doilies on the coffee table. “Mom, we’ve talked about this. I don’t have the time and energy to devote to a girlfriend right now, and I definitely don’t want to use one as free childcare. That’s just where my life is now.”
And after everything Corrigan has told me about how my dumbass behavior has made her feel, on top of how things went with Grier’s mother, I’m starting to doubt whether I’m even cut out for long-term romantic relationships at all. The evidence would point to no.
Fuck.
“Lexington.” Despite the fatigue in her voice, Mom’s voice sounds the sharpest I’ve heard from her in years. She rests her hand on my arm, locking eyes with me. “Get your act together. Take your time, do things right, but remember you have a daughter to think about.”
I stiffen. “That’s exactly what I’m doing. She always comes first. That’s why I—”
Mom yawns hugely. “Oh dear, pardon me. I’d love to talk more, but I’m afraid I’m fading . . . naptime really sneaked up on me.”
I nod, my jaw muscles tight. “That’s fine, Mom. Rest. We’ll see you again soon. Tomorrow, if you’re feeling up to it.”
She nods once.
I pick up Grier and head to the door, glancing at Dawn, who is putting on a very convincing show of being totally absorbed in her book. I feel angry all over again at airing our dirty laundry in front of a stranger.
At the last moment before I go, I turn back to say, “Feel better soon, Mom.”
She nods and raises her hand in an attempt at a wave. “Thank you, sugar.”
My mind buzzes with somber thoughts as I drive home, too many things crashing over and over one another and making my blood pressure rise. I don’t know what to think anymore. Trying to figure my life out by myself isn’t working. I need someone to talk to. I’m not sure if what I need is a distraction or a serious hashing-out session or what, but I need something.
Shit—I realize I’ve hardly talked to Dak since I came here. I completely forgot to follow up with him, let alone hang out. And if anyone can give me an insider’s perspective on Corrigan, it’s her brother.
When we get home, I get Grier set up with her favorite toys and call Dak. It only rings a few times before he picks up.
“What’s up, Lex?”
“Hey, man, sorry I took so long to get back to you. I was wondering if you wanted to come over for a beer.”
“Sure, I’m not doing anything right now. Or if you want, we can have a few rounds on the house at Dak’s Place—I know the owner pretty well.”
I snort. “I have to watch Grier. I can’t take a toddler to a bar, even if it is yours.”
“That’s cool. I wanted to see your new place anyway. You free now?”
“Yeah.”
“Be there in twenty.”
“Cool. See you soon.” I hang up.
By the time I’ve cleaned up the kitchen and picked up the mess of books Grier’s dumped into the middle of the living room floor, there’s a knock on the front door. Grier toddles over with Flapflap in tow, but when I open the door to Dak, she glues herself to my leg.
He sets down his six-pack and squats, smiling at her. “Hey there, sweetie. You must be Grier. My name is Dak.”
“Hi,” she says in a tiny voice, then immediately hides her face.