“What are we going to eat?” he asks, and I look at him in the back seat.
“Your mom said she likes Italian, so let’s get stuff to make spaghetti,” I say, and he nods eagerly.
We make it to the grocery store, and I’ve already googled a recipe, so we walk in and grab a cart. He walks next to me as I tell him what we need, and he picks up the items and puts them in the basket. He holds back at first, and when I tell him to go pick out dessert, I see him looking at the prices. “Whatcha doing?” I ask, standing next to him.
“That’s ten dollars,” he says, pointing at the fruit pie. “That’s a lot of money for a pie.”
I try not to grab all the pies and show him that he doesn’t have to worry about it. “It is,” I tell him, “but I’m lucky I have a really good job, and it’s not that much money for me.”
“Really?” he asks, almost shocked. “I want to do that job then.” He picks up the pie and puts it in the basket. By the time we leave, we have enough food for three weeks. I get him in the car and then look over at him. “Where are we going now?”
“To get flowers,” I say.
“For Mom?” he asks. “Because you like her?” I nod. “But it’s not her birthday.”
“That makes it even more special,” I say. “You always give them flowers just because.”
“But why?” he asks.
“So they know you are thinking about them,” I say. “So they know how special they are to you.”
“I want to buy Mom flowers,” he says. “Will you lend me the money?”
I want to laugh out loud. “You got it,” I say. When we enter the flower shop twenty minutes later, he walks straight to the woman. “I want some flowers for my mom,” he tells the lady, who smiles at him and looks at me. “Her favorite color is purple.”
“Is this for a special occasion?” the lady asks.
“No, it’s just to tell her that I love her,” he says, and I could swear I hear her swoon.
“Why, aren’t you the cutest?” she says and then looks at me. “You got yourself a special little boy there,” she says, and I suddenly beam with pride.
“He’s one of a kind,” I say, putting my hands on his shoulders and squeezing them.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Caroline
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” I puff out, almost running into the reception area, my hands still shaking from when I walked into my apartment.
“It’s fine,” Tamara, the daytime receptionist, says. “You have ten rooms to get done by three,” she says, handing me a clipboard with the room numbers. “I marked off the rooms that have already checked out.”
“Thank you,” I say, trying to get my heart to settle, but it’s not going to happen anytime soon.
“I’ll keep you informed on the rooms as they check out,” she says, handing me the walkie-talkie. I take it and walk out of the reception area, and the phone rings in my purse. I pick it up and see that it’s Justin, and I know that if I hear his voice right now, I’m going to start crying, and there is no time for that. When I don’t answer, he calls again, and this time, I just send him a text.
Me: I’m fine. I got to work five minutes ago, and I’m late. I’ll explain later. Is everything okay?
I walk into the employee room and store my purse in my locker and change into the uniform. I slip on my running shoes when the phone beeps, and I look down.
Justin: Everything is fine. Just worried.
I tuck the phone into my pocket and walk up the outside stairs to the third floor. I walk down the pathway while the hot air sticks to me. A man opening one of the doors and pushing his luggage out smiles at me and then walks toward the stairs. I grab the cart and make my way to the closest room. After parking it right in front of the room, I look over the railing and take in the parking lot when a car backfires. I open the first room, and the cool air hits me right away. I put the wooden stopper under the door and go to turn off the A/C. I walk back to the cart and put on the rubber gloves and then go into the room and start stripping the bed.
Closing off my mind for the next six hours, I finish the last room five minutes after three. I park my cart back in the supply room and load it for the person tomorrow. I walk back into the employee room, and my mind starts to wander even more now.
“Here you are,” I say, handing Tamara the clipboard with all the rooms checked off. “All of them are done.”
“Thank you,” she says. “I’ll let you know about next week.” I nod at her and turn to walk to the SUV, getting in and starting it. I make my way back to Justin’s apartment with a heavy lump in my stomach like a pound of coal.
I call him right before I get there. “Hello.” He answers right away, and he sounds like he’s doing something.
“Hey, it’s me,” I say. “I’m going to be at your place in five minutes. I just don’t know how to open the garage door.”
“The code to get in is 7-4-2-3,” he says. “See you soon.” He hangs up, and I just look down at the phone that is now on the locked screen. When I get there, I put in the code. It opens right away, and I make my way to the parking spot.
Grabbing my purse and the little plastic bag that holds our clothes for tomorrow, I walk to the elevator. When I enter it, another man also steps into it, and he presses his own number. He just looks over at me and nods. I look down at the floor the whole time, waiting for him to ask me what I’m doing here.
When he gets out, all he says is, “Have a great night.” I look up and smile as the doors close and take me up to Justin’s floor. When I get to his floor, I’m expecting to see the door closed, but instead, they are both standing there waiting for me.
I try not to let the tears come, but they come anyway, and the look on Justin’s face goes from a smile to a worried look. He looks at me, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Mom, we got you something!” Dylan says, and I wipe the tears away and pretend to smile. He’s so excited about this surprise that he has for me that he doesn’t realize I was crying. He takes my hand in his and pulls me to the kitchen where two huge bouquets sit.
“This one is from me,” he says, pointing at the massive bouquet of purple flowers. “It’s just to tell you that I love you,” he says. I look at the flowers and realize it’s more flowers than I’ve ever seen in my whole life.
“Oh my God,” I whisper. The tear escapes, and I wipe it away. “This is the most beautiful,” I say to him, hugging him and trying not to sob.
“Mine is bigger than Justin’s,” he says with happiness in his voice.
“I’m trying to explain to him that size doesn’t matter,” Justin says, and I close my eyes. “It’s not working.” I let go of Dylan and see the bouquet next to his filled with colorful flowers in a glass vase with a lilac bow.
“Dylan, you can go play the game now while I talk to your mom.”
“Okay,” he says and is about to run out of the room. “Can I have a snack?”