By the end of the week, she was practically shooing me out of the house.
“I’m supposed to be watching you—” I began.
“I’m fine, Vivian. You said so yourself. So please don’t take this the wrong way, but I want nothing more than a few hours to myself with my Hallmark movies and the ironing board.”
Lennon appeared in the doorway, wearing a pair of cargo shorts and deck shoes. His shirt was a breezy linen button down in a light blue. “Ironing, huh?” He came across the living room and kissed his mother’s cheek.
“Stop. You know you enjoy a good couple of hours at the board, too.”
Lennon nodded. “It’s therapeutic. Almost meditative.”
My eyebrows shot up as I looked at them, so in tune over one of the worst chores ever created. I wore scrubs even here at Lola’s because they required minimal maintenance.
Lola caught my expression and chuckled. “I think you might be the ironer in your partnership,” she told Lennon.
He came over and kissed my lips. “No problem. I don’t want Vivi to have to do something she doesn’t enjoy.”
“Does that include scrubbing toilets? Because I hate that one even more than ironing.” I wrinkled my nose. “And I deeply dislike ironing.”
Lennon smiled as he shrugged. “Sure. I don’t care how we split the workload.”
I stared into his eyes, unsure if I believed him—wanting to believe him. I slowly fell into the warmth of his gaze, the obvious joy he took in looking at me.
“Oh, there’s Belladonna,” Lola said. “I wondered if you’d left her at your condo. You really need a yard, Lennon.”
He kept his gaze locked on mine. “I do. You’re right. I need a house for my family.” His eyes grew heated.
As if I hadn’t fantasized about kids—and how we’d make them—for the past month. Warmth swirled in my chest, but I tamped it down. We needed to discuss what he’d told me in his truck a few weeks ago—about my ambivalence and our fears of abandonment—before I could fully commit to the future I desperately wanted.
I broke eye contact and ducked under Lennon’s arm. “You’re sure you’re going to be okay, Lola? I can stay?—”
“You will absolutely not. I’ll shoo you out with the broom, if I have to. I want you to have fun. And I want to starch the heck out of my jeans.”
We both laughed.
“Am I dressed okay?” I asked.
Lennon’s eyes moved over me, leaving me feeling like I’d been coated in warm honey. I shivered, enjoying my body’s reaction. “You look great, Vivi.”
“All right you two, out you go.”
“But I wanted to get your tea—” I protested.
“I can get my own tea, and I can take my own pills.” Lola held up her hands. “I’ve been taking care of myself since I was fourteen. I’ve been taking care of a family since I was twenty. I’ll manage a few hours today just fine.”
Lennon picked up Belladonna’s leash and latched it to her collar. The dog panted happily as we exited the house. Lola closed the door firmly behind us.
“She’s coming with us?” I asked, scratching Belladonna’s ears.
“Sure is,” Lennon said.
“Where are we going?”
Lennon helped me into the truck. He pulled his sunglasses from his shirt pocket but continued to squint as he met my gaze. “We’re going to a brewery for lunch.”
I smiled. “Sounds fun.”
“I hope so.”
