Page 21 of Red Hot Roaster

“And you know,” Mica continued, “he is truly going to lose his shit and want to come home immediately unless—”

Before I could get a word in, Jen finished up the tag team act, “—Unless we have a plan, and that plan involves Rafe moving in to your apartment until Finn comes home for the holidays.”

See, that was where Rafe was part of the problem. Because afterannouncingthat he was moving into my garage apartment early this morning, he’dalreadycarried out that move by early this afternoon.

Even before I dropped off to sleep, I’d regretted falling apart on Rafe.What a scaredy-cat. Get it together! You’ve dealt with worse than this.

But by the time I’d woken up, he’d returned with two duffel bags stuffed full of the necessities—whatever those were—for him and his pup. He’d claimed he’d only stay a few days until I recovered, adding he didn’t want me on my own if the bad guys came back. I may have rolled my eyes at that, because…I needed to get used to being on my own.

I agreed that his staying would free up Jen, Mica and Mateo to return to their families this evening. It would also prevent Lauren from hopping on the next plane back here in the midst of her divorce and custody difficulties.

Now my girls insisted that “just a few days” with Rafe on board—and all up in my space—should turn into more than two months. They demanded that he stay until mid-December when Finn came home for winter break, Mike returned to the roaster job, and Rafe left for his next gig.

Jen and Mica swore—on the heads of their firstborn dogs—that they’d hunt down a permanent tenant for the apartment by the time Finn went back to school in late January.

So, yeah, I got it. My friends and large-and-in-charge Rafe didn’t want me to be on my own after what happened with the break-in. And if my safety were in question, this would be the tipping point for Finn. He knew I was feeling lonely after the loss of Mom, and he’d use this as an excuse to quit school and move home.

I wasnotletting that happen. That was a promise to Mom I could keep.

I needed to suck it up and accept help. I needed to accept that Rafe was part of the solution, not part of the problem. I’d even accept the bossiness from Rafe, which, I had to admit, came with a generous dose of sweetness.

He was the one who’d set me up with my jailhouse benefits and made sure I took some painkillers. He’d checked all my bandages twice since I’d woken up, gently blotting off the blood, and replaced them on my hands. He’d fed and watered the dogs, along with taking them out back to do their business.

And, apparently, Rafe staying at my place was just part of the plan.

The Plan-with-a-Capital-P had emerged right after I’d left the café this morning. While Rafe was getting me situated, Mateo had called in the troops—our crew, my girls, other friends and neighbors—and started things rolling.

Thankfully, everyone had agreednotto text, call or email Finn before I had a chance to talk to him.

I hadn’t been in charge, like usual, since I was sitting on my heinie. But surprise, surprise—things had gotten done without me, as I learned later.

While I was lounging at home, the kids had swept up every speck of broken glass and mopped the floors and sidewalks. Rafe and Mateo had nailed up big sheets of plywood to cover the gaping holes. Jean-Luc had picked up lunch for everyone, and Liam had called in favors with his suppliers to rush the replacement windows order.

Don’t get me wrong—I appreciated all the help. I just wasn’t quite sure how I was going to pay for the things the insurance wouldn’t cover. But I’d stress over that tomorrow when my hands, knees and head weren’t throbbing so much.

After Mateo’s mom had heard what happened, she brought a hot dinner to my house—her famous and fabulous enchiladas. I could look at it as another form of blackmail…or maybe a bribe, since Jen and Mica insisted I wait to eat untilafterI’d made the difficult call to Finn.

Once I got over myself about not being in charge, I hugged and thanked my girls, as well as Liliana. She promised to pass on my thanks—and a hug—to Mateo. I even briefly considered adding a hug for Rafe. My better angels prevailed.

Everybody left—my friends to their homes and Rafe to the kitchen—to give me some privacy to call my son.

“Finn,” I said, when he answered his phone, “first off, everything’s fine.”

What everybody wants to hear as the opening to a call. As in, never.

I went on to share the unemotional facts about the break-in and quickly followed with the Plan. As any mother would, I downplayed the scary bits—like the bad guys still being there when I ran up with the bat, like scoring my cuts and bruises when I fell on the broken glass, like losing it on Rafe’s shoulder.

When I got to the part about Rafe moving into the apartmentjust for now until you come home for Christmas,my son said one word, “Stop.”

He went on, “Mom. I’m so glad you’re okay. Now, hand the phone to Rafe. Please.”

I wanted to resist, but the “please” got me. After calling Rafe to come take the phone, I parked myself on a dining chair. I could only hear one side of the conversation. But from Rafe’s customary short answers, it appeared Finn was verifying my side of the story—and asking what I’d left out. After a couple of minutes of this back-and-forth, he grunted his agreement withyeah, I’ll make sure your mom sees her own doc this week.They exchanged numbers, and Rafe handed my phone back to me.

Finn informed me that he loved me (I already knew this). That he was going to call all three of his honorary aunts tomorrow—they’d have more to tell. And that he was driving home for Thanksgiving weekend, no argument, since this was a change from staying on campus to study. After extracting a promise from me that I’d call immediately if-slash-whenthenextemergency reared its ugly head, he ended the call.

Huh. Evidently, I had two over-protective males watching over me now—one my still-a-teenager son and one my brand-new employee.

As my son used to say as a toddler,you’re not the boss of me.

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