I stroked her head as I stared at nothing, letting my mind go as it needed to. Vivian would help my mother through her treatment regimen, and my mother wasn’t a quitter. My mother’s decision to bring Vivian to Houston was a huge signal of approval—one I wasn’t sure Vivian realized.
While she hadn’t said it to my face, my mother’s decision to hire Vivian had told me to get off my ass and live before it was too late. I took a deep breath and released it slowly. I couldn’t do much more about that situation right now except be there for my mom. And I totally would. I planned to spend all my free time here, with her, until I knew she was in remission.
I was a mama’s boy and proud of that—proud of my mother’s work ethic and parenting, which had created four successful, thoughtful people. Proud to be a man she’d helped mold.
I had a much better chance of controlling the situation with Vivian, I decided. I could take her out, spoil her, show her how much she meant to me. I’d start by inviting her to my hockey game later this week.
Belladonna rose from my lap and shook, so I got off the floor, wincing at my aching butt. I texted Amber and asked to sit with her before practice. Then I contacted Coach Whitaker. He agreed to let me come in a little late since we were lifting weights before ice time.
An hour later, I sat in the chair I considered mine in Amber’s office, scooching until I was comfortable as I leaned my head against the back, hands on the arm rests. I explained what had happened yesterday and my thought process this morning. “I feel lighter,” I told her, “like my body and mind needed to push that shit out of my head.”
“And now? What do you want to do now?” Amber asked. She sat across from me, ankles crossed, glasses on the tip of her nose, expression intent.
“I want to marry Vivian, and I want my mom at the ceremony.”
Amber raised a well-groomed eyebrow, a smile curving her lips. “Those are some goals. I assume you don’t mean today.”
“I’m putting them out there to manifest—not today but not too far in the future. I knew Vivi was it for me when I met her last September, and seeing her again has reinforced that.” I grinned and leaned forward, slapping my hands on my knees. “That’s all I got for today.”
“All right. And Lennon?”
“Yup?”
She offered me a full-watt smile. “I’m really impressed with you.”
I snorted. “I was a dick.”
“We all tend to lick our wounds when we’re hurt.”
“Yeah, well, I need a make-amends list,” I said as I stood.
“I like that,” Amber said, also rising. “Tell you what, let me know how that goes.”
I paused. “You mean…”
She chuckled. “I mean you can come back when you want, if you want.”
“Can I give you a hug?” I asked. “Before I skip out of here a free man?”
This time, she belly laughed even as she opened her arms.
That afternoon, after practice, I hesitated for the first time in my entire life before entering my mother’s house. I was at the back door, which led into the laundry room and beyond that, the kitchen. Belladonna sat and looked up at me, but I stood mesmerized by the sound of Vivian’s laughter.
I’d missed her laugh. Much like a parched plant lifting its leaves to life-giving rain, I felt myself unfurl, expand, grow. With a smile I pushed open the door and stepped into the room, that lightness in my chest expanding when Vivian laughed again.
“Really, Lola? He said that?”
“Oh, yes. Little Lennon was quite the comedian.” My mother glanced up at me from her spot at the kitchen table, letting me know she was aware I was there. Vivian’s back was to me, slim and straight. Her hair was piled atop her head in that messy style my sisters preferred when they were lounging. I drank in the elegant, ivory column of her neck, the delightful curves of her shoulders, the slim musculature of her bared arms.
“But his brother, Ruben, died when Lennon was in middle school. He was in the army, a Ranger.” Mom smiled with pride. “He and his K-Nine were killed.”
“I’m so, so sorry.” Vivian’s long, elegant fingers encased my mother’s darker hand. Mom patted Vivian’s hand with her free one before she returned it to her mug.
“Thank you, querida. That was long ago. My heart, while not whole, is at peace.”
“I wonder if I’ll get there. I still grieve my mother,” Vivian said.
“You will,” Mom said with a gentle pat. “Now, let’s discuss my first treatment plan.” She raised her eyebrows at me. “I want it to start after Lennon’s next game. I don’t get to see enough of those.”
