The Good Mom (15 page)

Maybe because he was a medical professional, she didn't feel bad answering him. “I have a counselor I talk to. I've been with him since...I spent thirty days in an inpatient rehab.” She took a breath. “I haven't slipped since then.”

Besides Brandon's academic aspirations, and his physical and emotional well-being, it was the thing in her life she was most proud of.

Aidan nodded. “I'm sorry. I mean that. I shouldn't have ordered a beer.”

“You can, you know. It's not usually a problem for me.”

He cocked his head. His eyes were so brown. “Why is it a problem today?” He glanced at the stadium. “Brandon is doing really great. I didn't realize what a superstar the kid was.”

She must have grimaced, because he looked at her strangely.

And then she found herself pouring out her heart to him. “I already told you I grew up with an alcoholic mother, so I knew the signs. Wine—I used to drink wine. And when it got too bad—I mean, I was functioning, but it scared me that one day Brandon might find me, like I'd found my mom. I knew I had to stop. I knew I needed help. I spent the thirty days in rehab when Brandon was eight. I left him with my sister. When she stayed with him—well, he came across Jon Farell—he's a baseball player, he used to be with the Captains—”

“Yeah. He was on the computer with Brandon the other night. Your sister's husband.”

“Yes, and because of Jon, Brandon ended up making a television commercial for the Sunshine Club. They'd wanted Jon to do it, but Brandon was with him and Brandon did it better, so...” Ashley sighed. “The point is, I came home from rehab excited to start fresh with my son, and instead found that my son was a Captains ball boy and a regional celebrity. He loves it, of course. And his celebrity has only been building since then.” She couldn't help feeling miserable about it.

Aidan's voice was close to her ear. Low and deep. “Tell me why that's a problem.”

She thought of it from Aidan's point of view, leaving out the truth that she hadn't told him. That she could never tell him. She realized how it looked—most moms in her situation would feel happy for their sons' success. “You think I'm a major control freak, don't you?”

He laughed gently. “Aren't you?” he teased.

She sighed. “If I am, it's to protect him.”

“You can't protect him much longer. He's growing up, Ashley.”

She sank deeper into her misery. She tried not to think about that point when Brandon would grow up and leave home. Brandon at eighteen? She shivered.

She followed Aidan's gaze toward the field. The Captains were up at bat. Brandon was doing his thing, one eye on his job, one eye on the crowd. She smiled to herself. Always such a ham, her boy.

A cloud passed over Aidan's face. He shook his head. “I just hope that St. Bart's doesn't dampen his natural enthusiasm.”

Great, something new to worry about. “Do you think it will?” she asked.

“No. He has you looking out for him.”

Something occurred to her. “Did your parents look out for you?”

He gave her a sad smile. “I was expected to suck it up and go be a doctor, whatever it took. It's what my parents did. My aunts and uncles. All my cousins.”

“Oh.” She digested that. Out on the field, Brandon was doing a funny dance to the organ music that was playing over the speakers. The crowd tittered. A lot of people clapped for him.

“He's a funny kid, but he's being himself.”

“Yes, he's an original,” she said with wonder.

“I think we're all originals. Some kids just have it beaten out of them at a young age.”

“Did that happen to you?”

“Maybe.” Aidan stretched his shoulders a bit. Leaned closer. He said, “You smell really nice, like that shampoo you used on me that first day.”

She leaned closer to him. This was the most enjoyable ball game she'd been to in a long time. Aidan's score program had fallen to the floor.

“You should come in to the salon.” She dared to reach up and touch his hair. “I could trim it for you this time, too.”

He smiled at her. “I just might.”

She nodded, her heart hammering. It felt very comfortable with him, nestled in the crook of his arm, cocooned in a seemingly private world, even though the seats around them were filled with yelling baseball fans.

The man on the other side of her stood at his feet and started booing.

She jerked up her head. “What's going on?” she asked Aidan.

“The game is tied. New York is up to bat. It's actually been a good inning so far.” He had to lean close to make her hear him; it was so loud around them.

And then he leaned even closer to her, nuzzling her ear.

It was a really good inning...

While they watched, heads together, Brandon danced out to get a bat that had been left behind by the last New England batter. He was such a goof.

“I wish I could protect him from everything, especially at St. Bart's,” she mused. “But I can't.”

“No one can,” Aidan answered. “That's both the beauty and the tragedy of the place, in my opinion. He's going to have to find his own way.”

She let that digest. It was so frustrating being unable to do anything else to help. It reminded her of when Brandon was sick. She could fight by interviewing doctors, by running fundraisers, by sitting up all night with her child. But she couldn't make it all better. Not really.

“I can only do what I can do,” she muttered aloud to herself.

“I wish my parents had been like you,” Aidan remarked.

“Really?” She turned to gape at him. That was a revelation.

“You put your son first, before everything else. Literally. I don't think I've ever really seen that before.”

“That's...”
Sad.

“Yeah. And here I am talking to you instead of watching the game.” He laughed with wonderment and with good humor.

She dared to lean her cheek on his shoulder. It felt nice. He'd said she smelled good—well, she liked how he smelled, too. Like a man. A really sexy, solid, kind man who—God help her—she was starting to enjoy spending time with.

She sighed and gazed up at him. “Thanks for inviting me,” she said lightly, and leaned up to give him a peck on the cheek. Nothing heavy, just something to smile at.

At the last second, he turned his head so that instead of kissing the slightly stubbled skin of his cheek, she kissed him on his lips.

Holy hell.
She couldn't gasp and she couldn't jump away; she just seemed to freeze in place, shocked at herself.

He kissed her—a sweet kiss on her closed lips.

So nice.

When he pulled away, she put her hand to her mouth. “I'm...sorry,” she said. “I meant to kiss your cheek.”

“I'm not sorry.”

“No?”

He gave her a sweet, roguish smile. “Nope.”

“Oh.” She stared straight ahead at the green baseball diamond. Her heart was hammering, and she could hardly believe what had just happened.

She hadn't kissed or been kissed by a man in...

How old was Brandon? Plus nine months?

Oh, God.

Aidan's arm tightened on her shoulder. “Don't be embarrassed. I won't tell anyone that you kissed your son's tutor.”

“
I
kissed?”

“Sure.” He grinned at her in a way that let her know he was teasing. “You made the first move.”

“And you intercepted me,” she protested.

He looked at her and laughed, his eyes crinkling. “It's okay, Ashley,” he said gently. “It's more than okay.”

She wondered if maybe he hadn't kissed anyone since Fleur had died, either.

Almost a year ago.

“Well, I need to focus on Brandon right now, and you're...leaving Boston,” she reminded him.

“Yup,” he agreed. Still teasing her, his eyes twinkling, he added, “Though I know you've been planning something else behind my back that you haven't been telling me about.”

“What?” she whispered, indignant. She didn't want anyone overhearing them. The crowd had quieted down, it seemed. A batter was up—he'd been up a long time, and Aidan was keeping one eye on him, too. “I have not been plotting.”

Aidan leaned close again. “Flo called to tell me she's set a date for the memorial service. And she told me something funny, which was that she's been calling you, coordinating the details. She said she likes you.”

“Well...yes, we did have that long talk outside your condo that day and I left her my business card. You already knew I was helping her because I told you, but I'd hoped to surprise you with the extent of it.”

He chuckled. “You're lucky that I like you so much, or I wouldn't have taken it well, guaranteed.”

“So... Flo booked the church?”

“She did.”

“Um, when?” Ashley asked, hoping it didn't conflict with Brandon's math test.

“Two weekends from now.”

That would work! She felt pleased that he was staying for it.

He saw her good mood. “I haven't completely agreed yet,” he teased.

“Aidan, of course you're going.”

“Then you're going with me,” he insisted.

“Won't that cause a problem?”

“Not for me. Or for Flo and Albert. Honestly, they would like you there.” He glanced sideways at her. “Maybe I need somebody like you by my side, just for that one day.”

“Like me?”

“You're supportive. I'm not used to that.”

She wasn't sure how she felt about what he was saying.

She sat back in her chair, watching the action on the field. The crowd was still relatively quiet. There was tension in the air.

“We'll see,” she said.

Aidan said nothing. She expected him to give her a joking response, but his silence made her turn toward him.

He was leaning forward, his hands on his knees, staring intently at the field. “Aw, hell,” he muttered.

He gazed at her, and she saw the concern in his face.

“What is it?” She looked back at the field but saw nothing other than the New York players standing at their field positions. The New England batter was outside the batter's box. A group of officials huddled near the dugout, in front of them, but she couldn't see much from her angle.

The man next to her was standing, so she stood, too.

Peering around the group of officials, she could see that they were leading her son into the dugout. She could only see the back of his head, but that was enough. What caught her attention was the way he held his arm in the air. He was hurt!

Ashley screamed aloud. Without thinking she reached for the railing. She had to get to Brandon. She could just jump over and then onto the dugout roof—

“No.” Aidan's strong hands were on her waist. “They'll arrest you if you do that. Come with me. I can get you to him.”

Blindly, tears in her eyes and panic threatening to set in, she nodded. Aidan took her hand and led her quickly out of their seats, up the cement stairs of the stadium, through the open concourse and then down a set of back stairs, guarded by an official.

Without missing a beat, Aidan pulled an ID out of his wallet. “I'm with the team. Dr. Lowe. I have Brandon LaValley's mother with me. He's injured and she needs to be with him.”

“I'll radio ahead.” The guard waved them on. A few more twists and turns down corridors and they were inside New England's dugout. She'd been here once, a long time ago during Brandon's first season as a ball boy, but that hadn't been in the middle of the game with the dugout full of players. Players intent on winning and getting themselves into the playoffs. She didn't watch baseball, but that's what Brandon had told her was happening right now. All she cared about was finding her son. She held on to Aidan's hand for all she was worth.

“Where's Brandon LaValley?” Aidan barked at one of the managers.

“In the back, through the tunnel, first training room,” the manager said. He acted as if he knew Aidan, as if it was perfectly natural that Aidan was here, unasked and unannounced in their heavily guarded team areas.

“Hey, Dr. Lowe! Take care of our kid!” one of the players called to Aidan.

“Come on,” Aidan muttered to Ashley. Her purse was clutched to her chest and she still held on to Aidan with a death grip.She was trying not to scream, trying not to cry. She knew she was overreacting, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. Anything to do with hospitals just reminded her too much of when Brandon was young and sick...

They ran through more rooms until they got to an outside door. On the street, an ambulance was running, and an attendant was at the open door, tending her son, who was sitting on a gurney, inside.

“Brandon!” she cried.

“Mom!” He looked up and waved at her. Then he blanched.

“It looks like he hurt his wrist,” Aidan muttered. He pushed his way to the front, speaking quietly to three men at the back of the ambulance. They wore Captains jackets and obviously were from the team.

She ran over, needing to know what was going on.

“We're taking him in for an X-ray,” she heard the attendant say to Aidan.

“Well, I'm his orthopedic doctor. Let me take the ride with you.” Aidan looked up and caught Ashley's pleading look. “His mother is here, and she needs to come, too.”

“Sorry, Aidan, I've got to go,” one of the officials said. “Team policy.”

“If he's riding as physician, I can only let you go if you're family,” the ambulance attendant said to Aidan.

“He is,” Ashley interjected. She gazed at Aidan. “I need you at the hospital with us.”

“But...”

Ashley looked at the attendant. “I said he's family. Let's go.”

“He'd have to be the boy's father, ma'am,” the attendant clarified.