“I’m still so mad this wasn’t caught earlier,” she says, jamming her fists over her forehead. “It didn’t have to be this way.”
“That is really too bad. It makes total sense why you’d be doing the screening.”
“Yeah, I just want to give kids a fighting chance, you know? But I understand what MJ is going through. It’s the sameprocedure I had as a kid. You know, sometimes we blame a child’s late diagnosis on unaware parents. We think, if they’d only been paying better attention or whatever, that this could have been avoided. But the truth is, if it’s not pronounced as an infant, it can easily go undetected. And then you’re suddenly four years old and in traction in the hospital, screaming your head off.”
Without thinking, I slide off the countertop and step to Charlotte. Her legs are dangling apart just enough that I can get close enough for a hug. I slide my arms around her waist and breathe in the scent of her. I can’t think of what to say, so I’m quiet. And pretty soon, she relaxes in my arms, our hug growing tighter and stronger.
For once, Miley is leaving us alone and her piercing mew is replaced by the sounds of her snuffling through her kitten meal replacement.
Our bliss is short-lived, though. As soon as Miley finishes, she’s back at it, her meows insistent.
Charlotte eases away from me so she can look at me. “Is she meowing because she’s a baby and that’s what babies do? Or will she always do this?”
“I have no idea!” I say. I rest my hands along her waist, not ready to let go of this hug quite yet. “I’m a new pet guy, remember? It is sort of cramping my style and getting on my nerves. It makes my ears ring.” I make a show of rubbing my ears.
She laughs. “Yeah, me too.”
“Should we plan our escape? I mean, she’s fed. She’s watered. She has fresh kitty litter.”
“What are you saying?”
I grin. “What do you say we go for some tacos? Our ears need a break.”
Chapter 19
Charlotte
SittinginTaysom’scar,his muscular arms casually resting on the steering wheel, the scent of him taking up the whole space, makes this feel like a date.
Lately, everything we do seems like we’re teetering on the edge of dating—flirting with the idea.
At face value, it’s a ridiculous notion. A man like Taysom wanting to date me with the faulty hips? Come on. Except, the way he looks at me sometimes makes me think otherwise. Which is silly because he can have any woman he wants, a fact I’m reminded of when we walk up to the counter at Umpah’s Tacos.
“Hello!” the woman at the counter drawls, her southern accent especially thick. “How are you?” She grins and flicks her gaze up and down Taysom like I’m not even there.
I might imagine it, but I sense Taysom stiffening. He takes half-step towards me.
“We’re good, how about you?” he says, not even looking at her. He’s studying the menu behind her.
“Never been better,” she says, brightly. There’s an edge to it, like she’s daring him to look at her.
I squirm. Who does she think she is?
But Taysom doesn’t even seem to notice. He turns to me and casually moves a lock of hair behind my shoulder. Like it’s no big deal. Like we touch each other all the time.
My body tingles at his nearness. This man cannot get traded because hanging out with him is too much fun.
“Have you been here before?” he asks me.
“Never.”
His eyes sparkle. “Everything on the menu is good. You can’t go wrong.”
I order a couple of tacos, and he orders his, as well as a side of nachos and horchata. On our way to find a table, I swipe a large, thick pad of paper napkins from the chrome dispenser at a drink station.
“I’m gonna need a zillion of these,” I say.
We sit down at a table, facing each other, near the back to wait. The cashier, who can’t be much older than a high schooler, sulks as she watches us. She probably knows who he is. And even if shedoesn’t, she’s definitely interested in learning more. The sheer beauty of this man draws people to him like a shimmering oasis.
