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I closed the distance within a millisecond, pressing my lips to hers. I could taste her lipstick, could feel the softness of her mouth, the ease of the action. She didn’t flinch, didn’t back away. She blossomed for me like a flower, and as our tongues met, I wondered if she’d put me under a spell, pulling me in with an invisible string that tied me to her. Maybe I was just like Jay Gatsby and she was Daisy Buchanan, and I’d be chasing this until the day I died.
Her body softened, all the hard edges of her thawing out. Her hands fisted the lapels of my suit jacket, holding me close, and I shifted my hand to sit at the nape of her neck, cradling her, carrying her.
I drove the kiss deeper and felt the warmth in her body spread as it did in mine. This was the finest glass of wine, the most expensive meal. But it wasn’t mine to eat. It wasn’t mine to devour. Somehow, I felt okay just tasting it, even for a moment.
The smallest sigh choked from her throat and danced between our lips, and within a second, she stiffened. As if time had stopped, she froze in place, lips hard as stone, body unmovable.
And before I knew it she was a foot away from me.
Wide eyes and smeared lipstick. Fingertips pressed against her mouth, her chest rising and falling too rapidly, too panicked. The music boomed again, reaching a peak, and it was too much for her all at once. “I?—”
I stepped toward her, but she backed up, bumping against another dancer who gave her a look of distaste. She didn’t even notice. “I’ll take you home,” I said, wrapping my fingers around her raised wrist as she looked around frantically.
Panicked eyes met mine. Like a cool blast of wind, all of those walls I’d just torn down were rebuilt. Ice Bunny was back and she was horrified.
All I could do was repeat myself. “I’ll take you home.”
Chapter 17
Ray
“Hey there, Stingray.” Mom’s smile lit the room as I stepped in, a vase of flowers clutched between my arm and my chest.
I nearly dropped it.
“You… you remember calling me that?” I asked, watching for any signs of the woman she was before the dementia set in. She’d been in the hospital for nearly a week. They’d insisted she stayed in case she had any adverse reactions to the new medication, and I’d been dropping by every day. She’d been asleep each time.
“Of course I do,” she laughed. “Are those for me?” She eyed the flowers, her brows wiggling like they used to whenever I’d give her a poorly wrapped present on Christmas morning.
“Yeah. I… I thought you’d be asleep,” I explained while I walked up to her bedside, plopping the vase down on the little table beside her bed. I dropped into the chair I’d almost considered a second home for the last seven days. “How are you feeling?”
“Good, honey. Really good.” She tapped the side of her head. “Got my ducks in a row today, I think.”
I chuckled as the realization settled in. She was more my mom than she had been in years, and considering I never thought I’d see this side of her again… it was strange, to say the least. “I’m so glad the new medicine is helping. It’s nice to see you like this.”
Her gray hair sat limply around her shoulders, a little bit of natural oils weighing it down from lack of washing. I’d need to tell the nurses to make sure she got a shower today. “It’s nice to feel like this,” she sighed. “How are you, Stingray? What have I missed out on lately?”
I couldn’t help but smile at her saying it again. She hadn’t called me that since I was a kid, and I wanted to record it and play it on a loop on all of her bad days. “I’m, uh, I’m okay. Life can be hard at times. But it’s not horrible.”
“Good job? Any men in your life?” Mom leaned forward, her thin and fragile frame somehow taking up the room. I didn’t know what she did and didn’t remember from the last year, whether any of it had stayed in her mind or gone in one ear and out the other.
“Good job, yes. No men,” I laughed. “Just one annoying boss who keeps coming on to me.”
She nodded as she reached out her hand, motioning for me to take it. “Are you happy?” she asked, all glee and happiness fading to the background, being overrun with serious mom energy. “I know taking care of me isn’t easy. I don’t want you to have to do that for me, sweetheart. I want you to live your life. I want you to be happy.”
Am I happy? The question pinged around in my mind. “I’ve got security. I’ve got the makings of a happy life,” I replied, and it wasn’t a lie. I did have those things. But I wasn’t entirely what I would call happy. Happy was a hard thing to be when there were still things I wanted that felt out of reach, when I had a sick mother to care for, when I couldn’t necessarily live the way I wanted to even if she wanted me to. “I’m happy enough, Mom.”
It was as truthful as I could be. Mom didn’t need to know how much I longed for actual human connection. She didn’t need to know how much I desperately wanted a relationship now after the glimmer I’d gotten from Wade, how much I needed it in my life. It wasn’t in the cards for me, at least not for a while. Not with her health, and not with my lack of time.
But I could pretend with Wade. I could pretend for another couple of weeks, cherish the moments that felt real, and forget who it was. I could have fun with it. It could be enough.
For now.
————
I didn’t bother knocking. I didn’t feel the need to anymore. I pushed the door open into Wade’s office, my bag flying around on my arm as I burst through, hair a mess and no makeup.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” I blurted, pushing my hair back from my face. “My mom was awake when I went to visit her and she remembered me?—”
