“You’re lucky you don’t have to shave your head, Pretty Boy,” I said.
He gave a barking laugh as if he’d forgotten that side of the bet. It had probably left his mind after that very first session a month ago. “You’relucky,” he said, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me back against his chest.
Tara looked between us and shook her head with a smile. “This is the weirdest thing ever.”
“What is?” Elijah asked.
“The two of you hitting it off. I would’ve never thought. You’re the complete opposite of one another.”
“I don’t think we’re all that different,” Elijah said.
She popped her brows up as if to say that we weren’t that far past strangers, if that’s what he thought. My stomach churned. Maybe he didn’t know me that well.
We were at the front of the line for drinks now, and we all put in our order, collected our drinks, and moved to a pub table. A man walked by with a tray full of bruschetta, and we each grabbed one. Michael grabbed three.
“How is your mom?” Tara asked.
“Slowly progressing,” I said.
“Concussions are terrible,” she said. “And her leg and lacerations, that has to make mobility a challenge.”
I nodded.
“You take her to the bathroom and shower and everything?” she asked.
I wasn’t sure why I didn’t want to answer that question except that I was a private person, always protected my mom.But maybe private was a nice way to say closed off, and closed off was a different way to say hyper-independent and that Dr. Franklin was right—it was a weakness. So I said, “Yes.”
“You shower her?” Michael asked. “That’s gotta be awkward.”
“I mostly just help her in and out of the shower, help her wash her hair. She can still do a lot. I try not to make it embarrassing for her.”
Elijah’s hand went to my lower back. “You’re good with her. She’s lucky you’re here.”
“Are you an only child?” Michael asked.
“I am.”
“Too bad you don’t have siblings to help.”
“Yeah.”
“And your dad?” he asked.
“In London.”
“What’s he doing there?”
“He’s in a symphony. He plays violin.”
“That’s cool,” he said.
“He’s still there?” Tara asked, eyes wide.
I nodded.
“He just up and left like fifteen years ago,” she said as an explanation to the guys. “Your mom was always so stoic about it. I don’t think I could be.” She looked at Michael. “I would murder you.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “I don’t know how to play the violin, so you don’t need to worry.”
