Page 42 of Healing Hearts
It’s a fair question. I probably would have turned it all down, and I really shouldn’t. The press and social media push from Maggie, from Grady, from Hiran could make a difference. Idoneed as many people as possible hyping me up, even if the notion makes me want to hide out in my office and avoid people. I can deal with negative attention—I’ve learned to steel myself against it—but pats on the back are tougher to take.
“Emily arranged it all,” Maggie says. “Had Penny book it.”
My chest goes tight and then warm at the realization that she heard me the other night, and then she immediately tried to help. “She’s my best hype man,” I say.
Maggie gives me a long, considering look. “Yes, she really is.”
But she doesn’t pry or push, and I’m grateful. I don’t even know what I’d say, depending on what she asked.
Then Tyler’s truck roars into the parking lot, followed by a flashy black car that I know will have Mia and her bodyguard, Pasha. Sure enough, they all climb out.
“Them too?” I ask my mom, trying to keep my grin under control.
“Them too,” my mom confirms.
Mia alone could blow up my business, especially when I see several other cars pull into my parking lot, which means she called in the paps for this. It won’t just be on her socials, it’ll be across the interwebs. Tyler told us all once that Mia sometimes called the paparazzi on herself, depending on what she was doing, but I never quite believed it.
Mia strolls into the shop, Tyler holding her hand. Cameras click frantically behind her, but no one enters the business. Pasha stands at the door, tall and intimidating. His “don’t fuck with me” face is excellent.
“I just called my favorites,” Mia says, by way of explanation as she nods at the photographers outside. “The photos should sell reasonably well if I give them a bit of PDA with my pretty boy.” She gives Tyler a sly grin, and it’s one of the first times I’ve seen the confident businesswoman. Normally, she’s the anxious mom around the Sullivan crowd. “Hopefully it gives you some cred and some business.” She gives me a long look. “If I tell them you’re my trusted mechanic, business might get a bit out of control. Do you want that or not?”
Even though I should say “yes,” I hesitate. “Maybe we should see how this all comes together first?” I suggest.
“Whatever you want,” Mia says. “I can pop by whenever to do a few lives as your guys work on my car.” She eyes me. “Or maybe you. You’d play really well to my demographic.”
Tyler tugs her into his side, and I can’t help my grin. He kept the faith remarkably well in the months she was gone, so to see even a hint of jealousy from him is funny.
And then as they all spring into work, getting photos taken, having their oil changed, talking up my business to Hiran, I can’t help feeling extremely lucky that I somehow stumbled into the Sullivan orbit.
When I was a cocky teen, I approached Maggie at a party and offered to change her life, and instead, she changed mine.
Em has a house showing, and I already agreed to get Amir from his after-school care. I arrive a bit early, take him to the town center, and park my truck.
“What are we doing?” Amir glances around.
“Your mom did something really nice for me today, and now I’d like to do something really nice for her.” I purse my lips and stare down main street. “What do you think we could get?”
Amir frowns and taps his chin. Then he brackets his face with his hands and seems a bit stumped.
Me too, buddy. Me too.
I thought about bringing home flowers again, and she did like those last time. But it doesn’t seem like enough for what she’s done for me, what she continues to do for me.
“Can we drive down the road?” Amir asks. “I think I remember something.”
“Okay,” I say, restarting the car and driving extra slow down main street. I’m sure the cars behind me are loving my pace.
“There!” Amir says, clearly excited. “Mom went in there last weekend, and there was a book she picked up. She carried it around for a while and then put it back.”
“Do you think you can remember which one?” I ask, skeptical.
“Yes,” Amir says with a decisiveness that’s surprising.
When we get in the store, he picks up one that has a bunch of flowers on the cover.
“You’re sure?” I ask, though it does look like covers of books I’ve seen Emily reading. Of course, I have no idea what’s inside the covers. Even though I can read now, I’m slow, and reading anything substantial still feels like a lot of work if I don’t have to do it.
“It was definitely this one,” he says.
