All Things Pretty (Pretty #3)(40)
Author: M. Leighton

Tommi swallows. Hard. I can almost taste the panic in the air. But why? What’s the big deal? What’s the secret?

“She’s my mother.”

“Why do you look like you’re about to pass out then? There’s nothing wrong with you taking care of your ailing mother. I think it’s pretty damn decent of you, actually.”

Her smile is flustered, wobbly. “Thanks. I, uh, she, um, she’s always liked her privacy. And with Travis… I just try to keep things as calm and quiet and routine as I possibly can.”

“I get that,” I say, nodding. “And I’m not asking to meet her or anything. I’m just saying that you don’t have to hide her from me.”

Her wide emerald eyes flicker back and forth between mine until she finally smiles again. A small smile, still, but at least it looks a little less like I just pulled a gun on her. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“So, what happened to her? Is she sick?”

“She, uh, she had an accident a few years back. She hasn’t been the same since. Even if I did introduce you to her, she probably wouldn’t even know you were in the room.”

I reach for her hand, lying tensely on my chest, and I press my lips to each fingertip before I speak. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“She’s not gone yet.”

“No, but watching that kind of deterioration is gut-wrenching.”

“Is that how your mom died? Slowly?”

“Not that slowly, not like what your mom is going through, but slow enough. It was hard to watch. Hard to wonder every day if it would be the last time I’d get to see her alive.”

Tommi stares down at the hand I’m holding. Now, her fingers fiddling with mine, stroking each one from base to tip, methodically, almost mindlessly. “Sometimes I think it’s been best for Travis. At least she’s still sort of here. I think he gets some amount of comfort from that.”

“Do you?” I think of the way she talked to her, like she half expected her to understand or respond.

“Yeah, I guess I do. It’s hard to let go,” she says in a tiny voice that sounds near cracking.

“That’s what love does to you,” I say, reiterating my earlier point.

“But still, I wouldn’t trade having known her and loved her just because it’s hard to lose her. I have to believe that there is good love out there, the selfless kind that gives you a reason to wake up every morning.”

“You mean like the kind you have for Travis?”

She sighs, nearly inaudibly. I feel it more than hear it as it blows softly over the skin of my chest. “Yeah, something like that only…different.”

“The kind you find.”

She jerks her eyes up to mine. “What do you mean?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Loving a family member is not really a choice. At least not for decent people. I think we’re sort of born into it, ya know? What it sounds like you’re talking about is the kind of love that you find. Or that finds you. The fairy tale kind that rips your heart out and stomps the shit out of it.”

Her eyes crinkle at the corners. “Exactly, but minus the stomping part. I want the kind that lasts. The kind that loves you for you, not because of what you can do for it. The kind that sticks around no matter what. That kind.”

“I’m sure you’ll find it. And I hope it doesn’t rip your heart out and stomp on it. I’d hate to see tears running down this beautiful face.” I rub my index finger from the corner of her eye to the corner of her mouth. A dimple forms just beneath my fingertip, a wry half-grin.

“I hope so, too.” She pulls her eyes away from mine, busying herself with examining one of my knuckles like it holds the key to life. “Can you please not tell anyone that you know about Momma? I just… I don’t… It’s such a private matter. I don’t like Lance’s people knowing so much about my life. I like to keep him separate from home. As much as I can. Do you understand?”

Oh, I understand all right. She’s telling me more than she knows. Probably more than she intends to.

“I won’t say a word,” I tell her solemnly, sincerely. “Thank you for sharing it with me. For trusting me.”

“Well, it kinda takes the trust out of it when you already knew,” she snorts lightly.

“Not really. You could’ve lied. Made something up. But you didn’t.”

She looks shyly away as she shrugs one shoulder. “I told you I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“I’m not sure I believed you.”

Her eyes come back to mine. “I can see how that would be the case. Trust goes both ways, I suppose.”

“I already trust you, so get on with it! You’re holding up progress.”

Her smile is big enough to bare teeth this time. “I am? Heaven forbid I hold up progress. The nerve!”

I eye her narrowly. “Are you making fun of me?”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

Her eyes are twinkling with mischief and I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen anything cuter or more appealing. Well besides her face when she moans during an orgasm. That look’ll be hard as hell to beat.

“Did I tell you what the punishment for making fun of me is?” I ask, moving slowly out from under her.

Folding her arms protectively over her front, she replies, “Noooo, I don’t think so.”

“Well, let me fill you in on how that works.”

The last thing I hear before I smother her mouth with mine is a squeal.

********

I jolt awake when I hear the little ziiip noise of a text being sent. I find Tommi standing near the door, holding her jeans in one hand and her phone in the other.

“What’re you doing?” I ask groggily.

“Texting Lance.”

A discomfort registers in my chest. A spike of jealousy. Irritated, I push it away. I have nothing to be jealous over. Lance is an obligation, a means to an end that I know nothing of. She’s here with me because she wants to be, because she couldn’t stay away.

But still, I don’t like her talking to Lance. Or texting him. Or thinking about him. I don’t like it at all.

“I’d told him that if I couldn’t make the party that I’d be there by ten tomorrow unless I wasn’t feeling better.”

“So what did you tell him?”

“That I’d see him by ten.”

Another spike, this one of irritation. Mixed with jealousy. Dammit.