Authors: Zena Wynn
The rest of the evening had been strained, her mother sitting in sullen silence, occasionally glaring at the door that led to the basement apartment. The door “with no locks on this side,” she’d caustically pointed out. Cassidy and her father had ignored her mother’s foul mood, laughing and playing with Zoe until the toddler was yawning and rubbing her eyes. By then it was hours past her bedtime.
“Tell Grandma and Grampy goodnight, Zoe.” Cassidy scoped the little girl up to put her to bed. She’d already had her bath, for which Cassidy was extremely grateful.
“Night-night,” Zoe said. She waved goodbye and rested her weary head on Cassidy’s shoulder.
“My baby girl’s completely done in for, aren’t you, Zoe?” Cassidy said as she carted her off. Pausing at the hallway leading to the bedrooms, she called over her shoulder, “After I put Zoe down, I’m calling it a night as well. Just turn off the lights when you’re ready. Everything’s already locked up.”
“Will do. Goodnight,” her father said agreeably. Cassidy knew he’d check behind her to make sure all the doors were locked. As he’d said, she might be grown, but she was still his little girl.
“Night, Daddy. Mom.”
Her mother mumbled something in reply. As Cassidy was entering Zoe’s bedroom, she could hear her mother chastising her father and her father’s easy-going, deep-voiced rumble as he replied.
Probably giving him hell for not supporting her earlier
, Cassidy thought.
“Baby girl, I don’t think your grandma likes your daddy. That’s going to make for a bumpy weekend,” she murmured to an already-dozing Zoe.
Lying the child down and tucking her in took less than a minute. Curious, Cassidy paused just inside the Zoe’s doorway, head tilted toward the living room as she strained to hear.
“I’m just saying, you’re always defending her. We know nothing about this man. She’s never said a word about him, not when we were here for Memorial Day, or any time since. I don’t like the suddenness of this relationship,” her mother said in an angry undertone.
“I wouldn’t need to defend her if you weren’t always on her case. Sandra, she’s an adult. One who’s made a good life for herself and her child. We raised her right. At some point you’re going to have to let go and let her live her own life,” her father said in that calm, no-nonsense manner of his.
“I just don’t want to see her hurt. Have you forgotten we almost lost her,” her mother said. Cassidy could almost feel her mother’s angry frustration with her father like a tangible force.
“No, I haven’t, but if you don’t stop being so critical of her you
will
lose her, and it won’t be to the grim reaper. She cut you out of her life once when you refused to support her in her divorce,” her father said.
“She was making a mistake!” her mother’s voice rose sharply.
“It was her marriage, and her decision to make. The problem is, Sandra, you never bother to listen to the child. You’re so certain you know what’s best, you run roughshod over anything she says. I didn’t raise my daughter to be anyone’s doormat. And neither did you,” her father said sternly.
Cassidy didn’t stick around to hear the rest of the conversation. Tired, and mildly stressed, she went into her room, closed the bedroom door, and took a long, hot shower. It eased the tension in her shoulders but did nothing for her mentally. Sighing, she finished her preparations for bed, cut off the light and reopened the door a crack before climbing in between crisp, cool sheets.
She missed Max. In the last few weeks she’d grown used to his presence beside her at night. Without his body heat, she couldn’t get warm, despite the heat circulating in the room. Temptation beckoned her to sneak out of her room and join Max in that huge bed he’d purchased.
Two things stopped her. One, Zoe might wake during the night and need her. If she were downstairs, she’d be too far away to hear. The second no less important reason was her mother. Cassidy wanted to get through this weekend with as little drama as humanly possible. Considering her mother’s feelings on the matter, she wouldn’t be surprised if the woman was listening to see if Max came to her room or she left hers.
She punched her pillow and plumped it. Fidgeting, she grabbed the extra pillow—Max’s—and hugged it to her body. She lay on her right side a minute or two before flipping onto her back. Eyes closed, she forced her body to relax. Gradually, she sank into the softness of the mattress and pillows, breathing deeply and slowly.
Some time later, her eyes popped open and she stared at the clock. Only fifteen minutes had passed. Crap! In the glow of the green LED, Cassidy could make out the shape of her phone. She picked it up.
Miss you
, she texted.
The reply was immediate, letting her know Max was also awake.
Miss you more
.
Can’t sleep. Can’t get comfortable
.
Me, neither. Bed’s too empty
.
She smiled, glad to know she wasn’t the only one.
I’d invite you up but…
Your mother. I know
. Even through text, his irony came through.
Chuckling, she typed,
She thinks you’re after my money. LOL!
Little does she know it’s your luscious body I want
.
Cassidy groaned.
Don’t start.
Start what
?
She could picture him grinning.
You know
.
Maybe we could…
No, absolutely not
!
You sure
?
It will help you sleep
.
Oh, he was evil, tempting her this way.
No, it will only make me miss you more
.
In that case, I’ll see you in the morning. Dream of me.
Love you
.
Love you more. Goodnight.
Sighing loudly, Cassidy set her cell phone on the beside table. Texting him wasn’t as good as having Max next to her, but the brief conversation had eased some of her loneliness. He was right downstairs. They’d see each other in the morning. It had to be enough.
Closing her eyes, she scooted down under the covers and wrapped her arms around a pillow. Imagining Max curled around her, she finally drifted off to sleep.
Dawn hadn’t yet broken on the eastern horizon when Cassidy rose and put the turkey in the oven. She peeked in the pans to see what her mother cooked and mentally struck those items off her to-do list. Next, she started a pot of coffee.
Cassidy was debating the merits of scrambled eggs, grits, and toast versus the ease of pancakes and bacon when Max entered, his hair tousled, yawning as he scratched his bare chest. His low-riding bottoms revealed his belly button and the enticing trail of silky black hair disappearing beneath the stringed waistband.
“Morning. How’d you sleep?” He swooped in for a lingering kiss, tasting of toothpaste.
“Terrible. You?” She slid her arms around his neck.
“The same.” He stole another kiss and stood holding her by the waist. “I missed my time with you and Zoe last night.”
“Thank you for giving my parents time with her.” She nuzzled her face in his chest. He smelled like warm, sleepy male.
“I’m here all the time. They’re only here for a few days. I see she warmed up to your dad pretty fast,” he noted sourly.
She laughed. “Daddy bribes her with Tic Tacs. I pretend not to see.”
He groaned. “Smart man, your father. I wish I’d have thought of it.”
“He’s the best,” Cassidy agreed. “You hungry? You have a choice of grits and eggs or pancakes and bacon?” Maybe he could help her make up her mind on what to cook.
Tapping her on the tip of her nose with his index finger, he reminded her, “Breakfast is my domain. Let me shower and dress, and then I’ll cook.
“Use my bathroom. Maybe Zoe will sleep longer if she doesn’t hear people moving about. We’ll both prepare breakfast. Dad’s an early riser and a breakfast eater. I expect Mom to appear any minute, intending to take over the cooking,” she said, shaking her head.
Max gave her shoulder blade one last caressing stroke before heading for the coffeemaker, which had just finished percolating. “What was in the pans?”
“Pour me a cup, too, will you?” she asked. “Oyster dressing and potato salad.”
He paused in the act of pulling down cups from the cabinet to grin over his shoulder. “I told you she wouldn’t leave you to do all the cooking on your own.”
Annoyed, Cassidy grimaced. “At least I got the turkey in the oven this morning and the ham cooked before she arrived.”
Max poured coffee into both cups, returned the carafe to the burner, and set about doctoring their drinks.
“Maybe you can deflect her by asking her to make the dessert,” he suggested, handing a cup of coffee sweetened and creamed just the way she liked it. She took an appreciative sip. It was too early in the morning and she hadn’t had nearly enough sleep.
“That’s a thought,” she said after a moment, “but it kind of defeats the purpose. The idea was for her to be able to sit and relax and be served for once. I knew it would be hard—she loves to cook—but she agreed to try.”
“My mother’s the same with my sisters,” Max said, amusement and something else in his voice. She glanced up quickly to see if the emotion she heard was reflected on his face, but he’d turned away to the sink. “I think it’s a mom thing. One day you’ll be the same with Zoe. Don’t they say women become their mothers while men become their fathers?”
“Bite your tongue, Max Desalvo.” A real shudder of distaste shook her slender frame at the very thought of it.
When Max turned to face her, she noticed he was laughing. “Your mom isn’t that bad.”
Her mouth went slack, dribbling coffee down her front. Embarrassed, she used the back of her hand to wipe it up. “How can you say that?”
Still grinning, Max handed her a paper towel. “Honey, compared to mine, your mother is a saint. Last night she was reserved and a bit standoffish, but not rude. She waited until I was out of earshot to question you about me. Do you remember the reception you received from my mother?” he asked, suddenly deadly serious.
Cassidy nodded and frowned into her coffee cup. As if she could ever forget. Mrs. Desalvo had insisted on calling her Dr. Brannon. Not out of respect for her profession, but as a verbal reminder of her marital status. Max’s mother had not been happy with their relationship and made no bones about making her displeasure known. The evening had only gone downhill from there.
“Your mother’s feeling protective, and who could blame her? She doesn’t know me from Adam. Didn’t you say she thinks I’m after your money?” he continued with a knowing air.
“It was implied, yes,” Cassidy agreed, no longer feeling blasé about it. “That was bad enough, but I thought she was going to stroke out when she realized you were living with me, even though you were downstairs.” At least as far as her parents knew, Max lived in the basement. She could only imagine their reaction if they knew the truth.
Max nodded. “Nowadays you can’t be too careful. Sexual predators and child molesters dominate the news. Don’t statistics say something like one in every four women has been molested as a child? What about that dude that held those women hostage for years in his house, raping them repeatedly? When you stop and think about it, people are crazy, and as I said, your mother doesn’t know me. It’s highly doubtful she remembers me as the white guy standing next to Phillip at the altar during your wedding. Even if she did, I doubt it would matter.”
No, her mother wouldn’t have reason to remember Max. Other than her wedding ten years ago, their paths had never crossed. Her wedding party had been made up of Phillip’s law school buddies and her medical school friends, making it racially diverse. Max hadn’t stood out as “that white guy” because he’d been one of many.
“You’re being very understanding,” she bit out irritably. Why was he being so…
reasonable
… about the whole thing?
Leaning one hip against the counter, Max crossed one bare foot over the other and arched an inquisitive eyebrow. “I’m simply considering how I’d feel if you were Zoe and we were your parents.” He motioned with the coffee cup. “Isn’t that what you did with my mother? Put yourself in her shoes?”
Grumpily she admitted, “Yeah, but that was different.”
He cocked his head to the side. “How?”
She shrugged. “Just is.”
Shaking his head, Max straightened and placed his cup in the sink before coming to her. “I’m going to take that shower.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead and left her standing there, unsure how she felt.