“It’s okay, Mrs. Blake,” Amanda said quickly, her pale eyes still on me. “I’ll be back tomorrow to help you out.”
“Oh, you’re still on my service?” Mom asked, sounding surprised.
“At least until you’re stronger,” said Amanda. “Someone has to remind you to take your medications, right, Susan?”
“Of course, dear,” Mom said with a chuckle. “We can’t forget that.”
My annoyance for Amanda was creeping up steadily, but I shoved it back down, hoping the girl would leave before I lost it on her. I still had no idea why Amanda rubbed me the wrong way, and I didn’t care. Unfortunately there wasn’t much I could do about it unless I wanted to fire my mother’s sickly-sweet CNA.
“See you tomorrow, Susan,” Amanda said, turning to head back towards her car, and my fists clenched automatically at my sides.
I stood in the doorway for a moment, watching Amada pull away, then shut the door and locked it. I turned back to face my mother, who was already puttering around the living-room, humming happily to herself. This was a good day. I hoped I wasn’t about to ruin it.
“Mom, is Amanda good for you?” I asked, leaning up against the wall to watch my mother flutter about. “Is she a good nurse? A good person?”
“Amanda is just fine, dear,” my mother said. “A little quirky at times, but the best of us are.”
“She doesn’t give you any—weird vibes?” I asked, and my mother pondered this briefly before shaking her head.
“No, sweetheart, not really. Why? Is everything okay?”
“It’s fine,” I said quickly. “It must just be me.”
My mother straightened up from folding the throw blanket and turned to face me, hands on her hips. “Have you considered, Peyton, that you just don’t like Amanda because she might have a little crush on Korbin?”
“Don’t be silly, Mom.” Suddenly wishing I’d never brought up this conversation, I went to the kitchen for a glass of water. I was staring mindlessly out the kitchen window, hoping she’d take the hint and drop it. “I’m not that petty.”
“You’re a woman and a human being, sweetheart,” she said, joining me in the kitchen. “Jealousy is quite normal.”
“I’m not jealous,” I grumbled, but my mother waved me off with an amused smile.
“Amanda is a sweet girl, Peyton, and I don’t mind her coming to the house to help out. I think she could use the company.”
Before I could argue further about this, the doorbell rang and my mother beat me to the punch. She opened the door to find Korbin standing there, grinning at us, holding an enormous bouquet of flowers in one hand and a bag of food in the other. He handed the flowers to my mother with a smile.
“Congratulations, Susan,” he said as she buried her nose in the bouquet to inhale. “You kicked cancer’s ass.”
Giggling, my mom stepped aside so Korbin could come in. He spotted me standing near the couch and his smile grew as he crossed the floor and set the grocery bag down. He took me into his arms, kissing me hard and passionately right there in the middle of the living room. I felt my body melt into his embrace, content to just let him hold me, comfort me. It was my mom who had beat cancer, but I felt so worn down. The waiting, the appointments, seeing her so tired and so sick…it had taken a toll on all of us.
And now, it felt like we could finally breathe.
“I hope you two enjoy Italian food,” Korbin said when he released me, grabbing the grocery bags from the coffee table. “I wanted to make you my mother’s favorite, mushroom risotto with a side of focaccia bread, and pistachio panna cotta.”
I moaned out loud, already aware of how freaking delicious this would all taste.
“Oh, Korbin, you don’t need to go through all that trouble,” my mother said, following him into the kitchen. I followed suit, unsure of what else to do. Korbin was a master in the kitchen, one of the many great things about him, but I wasn’t opposed to helping him cook.
“I don’t mind, Susan,” he said, unloading the bagged groceries. “I am happy to do it.” He turned to my mom then, placing calloused hands on each of her shoulders. “I insist you get a glass of wine and kick back in the living-room,” he said. “Peyton and I have this.”
Smiling over at me, my mother grabbed a bottle of wine from the cupboard as well as a glass and waved over her shoulder, shaking her head.
“You two spoil me,” she said. “You spoil me badly.”
“Love you, Mom,” I called to her departing back, turning to face Korbin with a grin. He was watching me, a small smile playing on his lips as he fluttered around the kitchen turning the oven on and going through the cupboard for mixing bowls. Unsure of what else to do, I took a seat at the table to watch the view, not oblivious to the way his muscles flexed and released with every small movement he made, or the way the scruff on his face had been trimmed but not removed. He moved better now, no longer a man with a broken knee but a firefighter with a chef’s determination.
“I love that you cook,” I told him, going to the fridge for two beers. I popped both of them open and handed him one before sitting back down at the table. I took a long drink.
“Nina taught me how to cook and bake,” he said. “After my dad died, she had to take care of our enormous family all by herself. Since I was the oldest, I stepped up and took over cooking and cleaning. I learned a lot.”
