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“Bathroom is down the hall to the right,” I say, anticipating that that's the reason he's getting out of bed.
He grins down at me before sauntering out of the room, that sexy ass of his bouncing. I return my attention to the ceiling, absolutely stunned. I'd invited him over because I wanted to talk to him, but things quickly spiraled out of control. I blame him for looking too delicious to ignore. And for kissing me, of course.
I hear his phone buzz from the night stand and without thinking about it, I lift up on one elbow to peek at the screen. Cynthia. I see something about her missing him before I realize that I don't want to be the kind of girl that reads his messages just because we slept together. It doesn't matter what she said to him; it's none of my business.
Still, I can't help but wonder if he's actually over her. Maybe she still has some kind of a hold on him, a way of making him doubt our relationship or making him want to go back to her. I wonder if he still loves her and if there's room in his life for the both of us.
And what she'd said about Club Red was interesting. Apparently he’s a regular there and brings home women from the place, according to her. So what was his real reason for not wanting to go there with me when I invited him? I don’t feel like I have the right to be asking him these kinds of questions because we're not in a relationship.
Still, I can't help but wonder.
I let out a sigh, well aware that there's nothing good that can come from these kinds of thoughts. So why am I torturing myself?
My phone vibrates from my night stand and I reach over to grab it, wondering who the heck would be texting me right now. And I get the answer when I turn the phone over and look at the screen to see my mother’s name and a clipped message about an emergency.
I let out a sigh and resist the urge to roll my eyes. Another emergency? The last one hadn't been an emergency at all, but I have to remind myself this time she could be telling the truth, and I need to take every claim seriously. Because the one time I don't take it seriously and it's actually an emergency, I'll never be able to forgive myself.
I open her message and sit upright in bed. It’s an emergency - I’ve fallen down. Your dad is out of town on a business trip.
I can't help but wonder how blind my mother can be. Why would my retired father be making a business trip out of town? That doesn't make any sense. Still, that doesn't negate the fact that she's home alone and she has apparently fallen down.
She sends another message before I can finish my thought. I don’t want to call an ambulance; can you take me to the ER?
I let out another sigh, wondering how many times I have to tell her it doesn't matter; if something goes wrong, I will pay her medical bills. Clearly, I have to say it at least one more time.
“You look upset.”
I glance up at Michael as he crawls into bed beside me, a smile on his face. He runs a hand up my thigh and I stop him in place by putting my hand on top of his. He shoots me a questioning look.
“Your ex texted you and my mom texted me. My mom says she's fallen and she needs help. I didn’t actually read yours.” I slip out of bed and he mirrors my motions as I begin to get dressed, pulling a comfortable pair of sweats and an oversized tee shirt from my dresser as he pulls on the clothes he’d worn over.
“Are you serious? Is your mom okay?” He doesn't look at his phone and he doesn't seem to care who sent the message, instead he just seems to be completely focused on me and my mother. He finishes getting dressed and bends over to put his shoes on.
“I don't know. She just said that she fell and that my dad's out of town on a business trip.” Of course, Michael doesn't know that my dad is retired, so he is not going to know that that comment is fishy.
“I'll come with you, maybe I can help,” he says, standing up and ready to go. My heart almost stops as I take in how incredibly handsome he is.
“You don't have to come with me.” I hate derailing our good time, and I don't like the idea of him meeting my mother this early on. She's going to think all the wrong things.
“If you don't want me to go, I don't have to, but I'd love to be there for you.” There's something so comforting in the way he says the words that I decide I do want him there by my side, just to make sure everything's okay. I can deal with whatever weirdness my mother brings to the table later.
As I walk past him, he gently takes my arm and presses a kiss to my cheek. I smile up at him and we both leave my room, making a beeline for the front door. Not until we close and lock my door do I realize that he didn’t read the message from his ex. I’d watched him grab his phone and shove it in his pocket without so much as looking at the screen.
That thought brings me some comfort.
We get in my car and I make the drive to my mom's house. She lives on the outskirts of the city and it's a bit of a drive. The silence between us is overwhelming, but I'm not sure that I can carry on a conversation while I'm stressed out and worried about my mother.
When I finally pull into her driveway and park, I see that my dad's shiny black sedan is nowhere to be seen. Something in me whispers that I should go cruise the local motels to see if I can find it, but I don't want the drama right now. Or ever.
We walk up to the front door and I reach along the window sill for the hidden spot where they keep the extra key. Pulling the metal out of the invisible spot that hides it, I push the key into the door and turn the handle. Memories of childhood rush past as the scent of my childhood home hits me like a slap in the face.
I try to tamp everything down, but I can feel my breathing speeding up and Michael puts a hand on my shoulder as if to help me relax.
“She wouldn't have been able to send you a message if the worst happened,” he says softly.
Comforted by the fact that he doesn't understand why I'm upset, I take a deep breath. We make our way through the mud room and then into the living room, the kitchen, the dining area, the laundry room. I head over to her bedroom and find her on the floor at the foot of the bed.
She's on her side and her face is pale; I can tell that she's in pain. Her breaths are coming in gasps, and she glares at me with an angry resentment I don’t understand.
