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Mom giggles, leans over, and delivers a loving pat to his leg.
Fuck, I can barely believe this is the same woman I was worried I’d have to figure out how to beam out of here to get her to a hospital for proper care. The woman I arrived to see two weeks ago wasn’t this lively or energetic.
She damn sure wasn’t walking around tidying up the room because she just couldn’t stand seeing so many things out of order any longer.
Hamilton keeping her in a clean room for almost a week then integrated back here – which postponed us seeing her face to face an extra day – seemed to be exactly what she needed.
Her vitals are not only stable, they’re completely normal.
Her appetite has entirely returned.
And more importantly, so has her cheeky spirit.
“Is everyone done working for the day?” Mom questions during the taking of the word search to have a turn. “Don’t let me keep you here if other things need to be done.”
“They can wait,” my boyfriend declares and adjusts his arm that’s draped around my black tank top having shoulder. “You are more important.”
“See,” J.T. juvenilely kicks his chin in Wes’s direction, “see what your daughter is doing to him?” Giggles get my frame shaking as he adds, “First, letting her stay in the main house, then taking her to work, then visiting her there, and now blowing off work to play games with her favorite people.” Impishness expands into his entire expression. “I mean what’s next for the Bat? Hm? Not wearing his cape in public?”
“Do you have any idea how fucking heavy those things are?!” I squeak in disbelief, sparking laughter to spread throughout the room. “Who the hell is out there fighting crime in that?!”
“He let you wear one?!” Puppet Boy scoffs just slightly louder than Mom laughs. “What kind of shit is that?! I’ve been asking to do that since he got them!”
“Look better naked,” Wes unexpectedly states, sending the face of his company’s jaw to the floor.
Additional rounds of chuckles bounce around encouraging me to lean in closer to him.
Relax in his arms.
Enjoy his guard being down.
And it is.
Whenever he’s in one of the offices – or his mobile office aka his phone is within reach – he’s in some full-on Wolf of Wallstreet shit. It’s always something. Calls. Emails. Contracts. Designs. Acquisitions. Accounting. Charities. I mean you think it, and it’s somewhere on his task master list of shit to handle. And when he’s in business mode, he’s in business mode. There’s no room for fun or games or even food sometimes.
But when he gets out of it?
When I can seduce him away to his comic lair or bedroom or the backstairs – which is where our afternoon tryst took place – he’s a different man.
The workaholic beast is subdued, and the nerd prince rules all.
I honestly like both.
I really do.
I just prefer the one that isn’t afraid to not take life so seriously a little more.
“What is next, Weston?” Mom questions after passing the booklet back to J.T. “Taking my daughter out to dinner? The movies? Perhaps a play?”
“Please, don’t take me to a play,” I plead, face swiftly swinging towards his.
“What about a Star Trek one?”
His challenge prompts my brow to crinkle in confusion. “They don’t make those.” Pausing precedes me shooting a curious glance to my favorite T.V. partner. “Wait. Do they make those?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Musicals?”
