Page 23 of Sassy Love
I wonder now how many people bought that line from the incredible little woman before me. I’ve also wondered how long she was displaced before someone had the guts and the heart to help. She’s proud and will never tell.
When she fed me the same line the very next day with tears in her eyes, I swiped up her tattered plastic bag and took her home, my heart breaking all over my goddamn Gucci sleeve.
I got her a place in a rental not far from me. Then a job somewhere I knew she would be safe, which of course was with me. We’ve been inseparable ever since. Her own children, the fucking pieces of shit-eating vultures, are the reason she’s left with nothing.
They have no idea what they lost.
She has a sister who lives in Florida who is none the wiser to her situation. Mills is too proud to admit defeat to her remaining family. Every year I send her there for Thanksgiving. It’s her early Christmas present, but I always get her an actual gift atChristmas, too. With some excuse, like I bought it for myself and it wasn’t right, too small, etc.
She buys into it, I think . . .
“Finished your dinner, sweetheart?” Mills pushes to her feet, wobbling.
I catch her wrist, steadying her on the spot before she takes the food to the trash can. I screw the last leg on and plant it onto the table, and we are ready to flip her over.
Well, I am.
Mills can supervise.
I scramble to my feet and slide my fingers under the glass top. It’s heavy. I squat, thankful for the years of working out that are paying off right now, and lift it, careful to keep its weight on the front edge to prevent the glass from cracking. I groan as I lift, realizing as I rise the desk higher that the legs are going to be too heavy.
“Fuck. It’s too big.”
“Here, let me help.”
“You are not blowing a vessel for my desk. Sit down, Mills.”
“You listen here, I might be smaller, alittleolder, but I am far from useless.” She shuffles toward the table as I raise a brow at that last phrase. With atsk, she waves me off and grips one short edge of the glass top. “On three.”
“Fine. But you have a coronary over this, and you’ll never lift a damn finger again.”
“Whatever, bossy girl. One, two, three.”
We flip the desk, and it lands precariously on its feet. Mills steps back, holding her arms out: “Look! We did it!”
It looks... a little off. But it’s still much better than that wreck of a dining table Lawson and I had to share. And now I can put distance between me and Mr. Brownnoser himself.
I chuckle and pad to where she stands. “We did, didn’t we?” I hug her shoulders, and she reaches up and pats my cheek. I dota kiss to the crown of her head, into the grey curls that she keeps styled. “We should go home. Past your bedtime, little lady.”
A fine hand slaps the same cheek. I giggle, and she pokes her tongue out at me. The cheeky brat. Oldest damn brat in this city at seventy-five. I drag the desk back toward my sideboard on my side of the office space and decide the drawer cabinet can wait until I can rope one of the staffers into fixing it up for me.
Our fish tank is being upgraded. The desks are only the first of the changes I want to bring to my workspace. But I’ll bide my time, make sure I’m staying before I sink any more into this place.
“You going to call that mother of yours back tonight?” Mills asks.
“Yeah, sure. Right after I kiss and make up with Rawlins the Brownnosed-Rat.”
“Don’t you forget her, sweetheart. Family is too hard to lose. Learn from my mistakes.”
I groan internally.
The only family that is worth my while is the woman right in front of me. And I hate it when she says that kind of stuff. Like she’s the reason her family disintegrated to nothing. All she ever did was give until she had nothing left, literally. Stripped of her assets and down to her last penny, she ended up at the fucking bus station. So, what, her kids could live it up? If I ever?—
A soft thumb finds the crease between my brows. “You’re far too young and too beautiful for a frown. Wait ’til after you meet Mr. Right and fall in love. Then, you can frown and have a face like mine.” Soft eyes find mine as her head tilts. “Take this old lady home, sweetheart.”
“I don’t believe in that kind of love, you know that.” I can’t help it; I wrap her in a hug. “But you know I loveyou, right?”
My eyes burn, and I suck in a random emotional breath.
