“Don’t worry about it, Beck.” He slides his hands into his pants pockets. “Consider this my apology.”
And with a silent salute, he turns on his heel and strides for the door.
Before I have time to process what’s happening, a tall, skinny man appears and offers to escort me to see my mother. They only allow one person at a time, so Cam takes a seat in the lobby, but not before kissing the side of my head.
I’m led to a living space that looks like it was ripped from the pages ofArchitectural Digest. My mother is sitting on a brown leather sofa in front of floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook a man-made lake with a fountain. She looks thinner than when I last saw her, though I can’t be sure because she’s wearing a flowing long-sleeve linen pants outfit.
On the drive over, I imagined I’d have to play the role of adult, per usual, but seeing her after all this time provokes the instinct to be the child. I crumple in her arms as exhaustion spills out of my pores. She doesn’t let go as we settle into the sofa. When I pull away, I examine the side of her head.
“Are you okay?” I ask, eyeing the bandage at her temple.
With tears in her eyes, she nods.
I allow myself to relax against the cushion. “What happened?”
Trembling, she explains how Frank broke up with her. Something about her being too needy and nagging, and to be honest, I don’t follow the whole jumbled story. After she texted me, she took some pills (she doesn’t mention which) and walked to a bar a few blocks from her house. When the bartender cut her off, she hopped off the barstool, and that’s when she slipped and hit her head on the bar. She doesn’t remember much after that, but she was told that the bartender called an ambulance. She ducks her chin and wipes at her eyes when she admits that she doesn’t remember being brought to the facility.
“But I’m going to stay.” She clears her throat, and an instant later, an employee magically appears with a pitcher of water infused with cucumber and mint. “The whole thirty days. I promise.”
Wiping the tears falling from my eyes, I hug her again. “Thank you, Mom.”
I don’t know what’s to come. I don’t know whether she’ll stay sober and get her life back on track, but it’s a step in the right direction.
Cam is on the phone when I return to the lobby but quickly pockets the device when he sees me.
“How did it go?” He studies my face, brow furrowed, and wipes at my cheek.
“Good, actually.” The way the weight lifts from my shoulders when I say the words is such a relief. “She’s going to go through with the program.”
“That’s great news.”
I nod. “Let’s take off. I can drive you back if you’re tired, but I think I’m going to stay in LA until she’s released.” That would keep me here until mid-August. “I’m not sure what will happen after she finishes here.”
“Actually…” He guides me through the automatic doors to wait for the valet. “Hotel Connelly has a location here. We can stay as long as we need to.”
“In Palm Springs?” I whip around to face him, feeling a little dizzy at the discovery. I may need to sit down. Or throw up.
“Yes. I’ve already cleared it with my folks. You can write your book, and I can do some marketing work for the hotel while your mom gets better.”
My heart soars at the prospect. Throwing my arms around him, I kiss his neck. Twelve hours ago, I was in panic mode. Now, though, an overwhelming sense of calm washes over me. I have a healthy new partner, and my mom is finally in rehab.
Cam insisted we bring our luggage today. Now I’m wondering if he planned this all along. Thank god the two of us are so attached to our laptops. In my haste, I may have forgotten a thing or two, but that little piece of technology goes with me everywhere. As long as we’ve got Wi-Fi where we’re going, we’ll be set for work for the next month.
We check into our hotel room—oh, excuse me; our penthouse suite—and find a late lunch waiting for us inside. A little bit of everything: hamburgers, waffles, chicken nuggets, french fries, salad, and enough fruit to feed the entire population of a small island, as well as bottles of sparkling water and iced green tea.
After stuffing our faces while watching reruns ofThe Officeon the sectional sofa, Cam excuses himself to shower.
Now that my belly is full and my adrenaline is deflating, the California king in the largest bedroom (of three) is calling my name.
The door to the bathroom is cracked, and the sound of running water acts as a lullaby. Before I let it ease me into slumber, I fire off a text to my aunt and uncle, and Millie, then settle in. I remove my hair clip and set it on the table next to where Cam’s phone is plugged in. The screen comes to life when a text notification pops up. While I’m not trying to be nosy, my eyes can’t help themselves. I think it’s human nature.
The notification banner shows a preview of a text from Ezra:You paid for her mom’s rehab? You’re?—
What the hell?
I thought Tyler covered the bill.
Flying off the bed, I yank the phone from the charger andbarge into the bathroom. At the commotion, Cam wipes the fog from the shower glass and squints at me.
