Page 123 of The Love Playbook

Chapter 31

CHARLOTTE

It’s nearly two o’clock in the afternoon when I carry the huge bouquet of white flowers to the kitchen and plunk it down on the island, admiring the stunning combination of garden roses, mums, carnations, and peonies mixed with deep waxy greens. Since I’m at my mother’s, I have no idea who might be sending her flowers, but when I find the little card tucked inside the blooms, I pluck it out to see my name scrawled on the back.

With a smile, I open it and read.

Missing you already.

-x

Chris

I dip my nose into the flowers, inhaling deeply while my heart skips inside my chest. I’ve only been gone ten hours, and only just saw him this morning before he left for practice. If everything goes according to plan, I’ll be back on campus by morning.

Mom’s first physical therapy consultation is today at four o’clock, and since Chris’s aunt April is doing us a favor by coming to the house, I figured it’s best if I’m here to ensure everything goes smoothly. Though my mom has been cooperating the last couple of weeks by taking her meds and going to her biweekly appointments with Dr. Sherri, she has a long way to go, and I know just how quickly things can take a turn for the worst. Keeping a close eye on her is for the best, even if I’m now wishing I wouldn’t have promised her I’d spend the night.

“Oh, my word!”

I jerk at the sound of my mother’s startled voice, lifting my gaze to find her leaning on her crutches and staring at the vase of flowers in awe.

She creeps closer, one hand over her mouth. “Those are beautiful,” she breathes. “Are they for me?” She beams as she comes closer to inspect them, a smile splitting her face in two. Despite her progress, it’s the happiest I’ve seen her in a while, even happier than when Chris had been here the morning after she fell. “I can’t believe it,” she says, softly touching the delicate petals of a rose. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve gotten flowers?” Her eyes glisten like a watery espresso. “Who sent them? Your father?”

I swallow, moving the hand holding the card behind my back. “Uh, no. They’re from Chris, actually.”

The flicker of disappointment lasts only a moment before it’s replaced with joy. “What a thoughtful young man, sending hisgirlfriend’s mother flowers. He’s a keeper, that one. Knows just how to brighten this old woman’s day.”

The image I had of taking the bouquet back to my dorm room vanishes.

She needs them more than me.

They’re just flowers; let her be happy.

A seed of bitterness roots inside my chest, but if I don’t water it, it won’t grow. Instead, I tamp it down, grateful when the doorbell rings because I need a distraction. “I’ll get it,” I choke out, needing to get away from the kitchen and the flowers I don’t have the courage to claim.

I wrench the door open without forethought, a gasp leaving the back of my throat when I see the man standing there. “Chris!” A warm flush runs through my body as I throw myself into his arms. “What are you doing here?”

“Coach canceled our two o’clock, so I decided to see my girl before heading back for evening practice.” He pulls back, checking his watch. “That means I have exactly an hour and a half before I need to head back.”

With a laugh, I stretch onto my toes and brush my lips over his, whispering against his mouth, “You’re crazy, you know that?”

Behind us a throat clears, and I sigh.

Dropping back down to my feet, I tear myself from him as his gaze lifts. “Hi, Mrs. Baker. I hope I’m not intruding.”

“Hush.” Mom waves him away with a flap of the hand. “You’re just the man I wanted to see.” Coming toward us, she balances on one crutch, gingerly placing weight on her bad knee before she loops one arm through Chris’s and tugs him inside. “I got your flowers and they’re absolutely stunning, Christopher.”

Christopher? What the fuck.

“Uh . . .” Chris glances over his shoulder to where I’m following them into the kitchen, and I shrug.Just go with it, I mouth.

My mother prattles on, using Chris to support her weight as she shows him the vase of flowers, talking a mile a minute without taking a breath. Once she’s finished fussing, she beams up at him like he’s the answer to all her problems. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” she asks. “I was just about to make a pot.”

“Sure, that would be great, actually.”

My mother smiles, then turns to me with puppy dog eyes. “Actually, would you make him some, honey? I’d like to freshen up before that appointment.”

Funny how she didn’t seem to care about freshening up five minutes ago.

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