Page 105 of The No Touch Roommate Rule
She reaches over, patting my hand. “But you’ll make it better. I know you will. And I’ll help as much as I can. Let’s get a good night’s sleep, and we can leave first thing in the morning.”
My brows shoot up. “What? Nana, you can’t?—”
“Well, of course, I can.”
“You just got out of the hospital.”
“And the doctor said I was in great shape,” she says, throwing my words back in my face. “I just need to take it easy for a while. I can take it easy in New Orleans as easily as I can here. And I’ve been wanting to see your new place.” She smiles, that familiar mischief in her eyes again as she adds, “Besides, can you imagine how much that will piss off your daddy? To see shots of usenjoying ourselves on his home turf after he tried so hard to get me locked up in the old folks’ home? He’ll be eating his own fist.”
“Assuming he still follows me on social media,” I warn.
“Oh, he’s still following you,” she says. “The only thing Phillip hates more than not being in control is being in the dark. He’ll want to keep tabs on us, if only so he won’t miss his chance to say he told us so.”
I nod, seeing her point. “You’re probably right.”
“I’m always right,” she says. “And I’m fine to travel, I promise. I’ll stay in the guest room and leave my hearing aid out, so I won’t interfere with the make-up sex.”
“Assuming there’s going to be make-up sex,” I mutter. “She might not let me in the house.” The words have barely left my lips when I realize there’s a much more likely, much less desirable option. “Or she’ll already be gone by the time we get there.” I curse as I surge to my feet. “I need to call her. Now. If she’s still in the air, I’ll leave a message. Are you done with your tray?”
“I am, but I can take care of it,” Nana says. “I’m not?—”
“No, I’ll take care of it,” I insist, pointing a warning finger at her chest as I collect the tray. “That’s part of the deal. If we go to New Orleans, you have to let me wait on you. For at least a few days. And the second you feel the slightest bit off, we’re on our way to the ER. The good one is near Dad’s house. He’s wrong about most things, but he wasn’t wrong about that being the best hospital in New Orleans.”
She lifts her right hand in the air with a nod. “Yes, sir. I solemnly swear to be a good patient for exactly three days. Then, I want to go walk around the French Quarter and get lunch at that place we like. It’s been too long since I’ve had good gumbo.”
“We’ll see how you feel,” I say as I start toward the kitchen. “No promises. This is a wait-and-see situation.”
She huffs behind me. “Fine, but I’m going to feel fine. I’m back to eighty percent already.”
After rinsing her plate and loading it into the dishwasher, I step outside to call Makena.
I hold my breath as the phone rings, pacing back and forth on the porch in the twilight, but I’m not really surprised when it goes to voicemail.
“Hey, I hope you’re making it home safe,” I say, sounding weirdly breathless. I make an effort to pull myself together before adding, “Call me when you land. I miss you already, and I’m sorry about this morning. It was a fucking nightmare, but I could have handled things better. But…yeah.” I wince at how stupid I sound. I should have known better than to freestyle this, but it’s too late now. “Anyway, we’re home, and Nana’s doing much better. So, all’s well that ends well, I guess. Call me when you get this. Miss you.”
I want to say “I love you,” but that’s not something you say for the first time on the phone. Or in a voice message.
It’s something you say in person.
And I intend to say it as soon as I see her pretty face tomorrow, along with more “I’m sorry,” and “forgive me,” and “you can trust me not to make this mistake again.” I just hope I get the chance to make different mistakes. I hope this is a fuck-up we can find our way back from, not the proof she needs that she never should have stopped running.
I call again an hour later, then one last time before I go to sleep, around eleven, but she doesn’t answer. I suppose there’s a chance she’s still traveling, or that she put her phone in airplane mode for the flight and forgot to turn it off, but…
But I don’t really believe that.
I go to sleep with a sinking feeling in my gut and wake up to find the freefall has spread to my chest.
She still hasn’t responded, not so much as a thumbs-up emoji.
Chapter
Twenty-Six
MAKENA
My neck has opinions about Charlotte’s couch.
Strong ones.
