Page 11 of But For You

“The second one,” he grumbled. “Why do we do that?”

“Because we love her,” I said like it was obvious.

“No, screw that. I’m gonna call her and tell her we⁠—”

“Why would you rock the boat and hurt her feelings? Why would you upset the delicate balance of all things Regina?”

I loved his mother, Regina Kage, with absolute abandon, and out of everyone—her own children, their spouses, and all her grandchildren combined—she and I got along best. The reasons for that were twofold: first, because I’d never had a mother and craved one like a drug; second, because I didn’t ever try to change her. We never fought; I allowed her to rearrange anything in my house she wanted, make suggestions on parenting—because, really, her kids had come out good, so where was the argument?—and most of all, when she fussed, whenever she fussed, I was at her disposal to lend a hand. We were good.

“Jory—”

“Let it go, Sam.”

He rolled his eyes, but we both knew he wouldn’t say a word. No one said a word to Regina Kage. We all did exactly as she wanted. She was the matriarch after all.

“Seriously though, we should cancel. You’re in no⁠—”

“I’m fine, and besides, I think she had trip itineraries printed up, and I want to make sure to get my copy. Last year, as you recall, they were laminated. This year, I think they might be printed on brochure paper.”

“Oh dear God,” he groaned, but I got the smile I had been after with a shake of his head. “Both of you are too much.”

That was probably true.

“So,” I said softly as my gaze skated over him. God, I loved looking at him. The broad shoulders that the suit jacket accentuated, the snug fit of the tailored dress shirt over his massive chest, and the stubble that covered his square, chiseled jaw even though he’d shaved that morning before work.

“What?” he asked, and his voice was husky as he stared at me.

“You’re gonna take me home?”

“Yes.”

“And stay with me?”

“Yeah. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

I stared into those eyes that I loved as much now as I had the first time I saw them all those years ago, glaring down at me. “You’re taking care of me again.”

He grunted, and it was all male, both growly and grouchy. “And?”

“And it’s nice.” I smiled at him, taking a loose hold of his tie.

He sighed, and I got a trace of a smile.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.”

“Wait,” I said before he could leave.

“Why? What?”

“Come gimme a kiss.”

“No.” He snorted out a laugh and then bent and kissed my forehead before he walked out of the room.

I was lost in thought, every brain cell I possessed absorbed with Sam Kage and what I was going to do to him with an afternoon alone, when my name was called.

“Mr. Harcourt?”

When I turned, there was a doctor there, and I registered almost instantly that it really wasn’t fair. He got to look like that and be brilliant? Normally, you were smart or pretty, not both. He even had bright blue-green eyes. I noticed that because they were the exact shade of turquoise that I’d wanted when I was growing up. I had hated my brown eyes with a passion. Now things were different. My daughter and I had almost the same shade of deep chocolate brown with hints of gold, and the man who woke up in bed with me every morning never failed to mention that, as far as eyes went, mine were his favorite color.