Page 84 of The Bodyguard Affair
“Yes,” I whisper, my body still feeling warm and fizzy, like it’s hovering.
“Good night, Andi.”
“Good night.”
Chapter 35
Nolan
You’d think traveling with Eric would be exciting, but I find myself itching to get home the entire time.
Maybe it’s because I’ve been a CPO for so long. I’ve gotten used to these types of trips with former clients. It’s always somewhere nice, like Paris or Madrid. Private jet, Michelin restaurants, expensive-ass hotels with nightly rates equivalent to a month’s salary. But there’s never any off time to actually enjoy yourself. Not when you spend the lead-up scanning the bowels of the internet for regional threats, planning driving routes, casing out hotel and event venue floor plans, and generally being on high alert for any potential risks.
It’s been two days, but I’m anxious the entire drive home, feeling like I can breathe again only when I pull into the driveway. I’ve never missed home. Until now.
Mom is sitting on the couch readingThe Very Hungry Caterpillarwith Maisey, Em’s youngest, tucked into her lap.
“Uncle Nono!” Maisey screams in that sweet, high-pitched little voice of hers. She flings herself off Mom’s lap and rushes to hug my legs. I take a couple minutes to play with her on the floor. I try peekaboo, though she specifically tells me she’s “too old” for peekaboo at three years old.
“This is what happens when you spend so much time away,” Emma calls from the kitchen.
“Oh, don’t listen to her. I barely remembered you were gone,” Mom quips playfully, coming to my defense.
She stands slowly, stabilizing herself on the side of the couch before pulling me in for a hug. I really fucking missed her.
“How are you feeling, Mom?” I mumble into her shoulder.
“A little tired today,” she admits. I ask what she did this morning, but she doesn’t remember. Instead, she pulls Maisey in for a tickle, and the two of them resume their book on the couch.
I head into the kitchen to find Emma on hands and knees, buried under a mountain of random sauces and spices scattered around the kitchen floor. “Did you know Mom’s been trying to poison us?” she asks, holding up a dusty jar of god-knows-what like evidence from a grisly crime scene before tossing it into the garbage.
I plunk into the chair closest to the stove. “Huh?”
She tosses a small canister of green powder at my chest. “Look at the expiration date of this oregano. It’s from 2012!” Indeed, the expiration date is May 2012. A relic.
“Slander! Spices don’t expire!” Mom calls from the living room.
“Oh really?” Emma plucks a bottle of balsamic vinegar from the floor, holding it up like she’s about to unveil a deep, dark family secret. “This balsamic expired six years ago. And you said Mom wasn’t a pack rat.”
“Hey, I never said she wasn’t a pack rat—just that she’s selective about what she hoards,” I argue.
Mom, still within earshot, fires back, “It’s called being prepared! You never know when you’ll need a dash of aged balsamic. It tastes better that way, in my opinion.”
“Sorry for the mess,” Emma whispers to me as she continues her archaeological dig through the pantry. “I want the place to be in sparkling condition for showings. Hard to make a house shine when the pantry looks like a scene fromHoarders.”
I laugh, catching another outdated spice jar she tosses my way. “Yeah, nothing says ‘buy this house’ like decade-old oregano.”
“In better news, did Mom tell you what Andi did?” Emma asks, gesturing to the fridge.
“No?” I poke my head in to find fresh produce and containers stacked and labeled. Holy shit. I know how much she hates grocery shopping, and I also know how little free time she has. I’d never even asked her to do that, or alluded to it, even though it was a task that was going to stress me out in the lead-up to Mexico. It’s like she anticipated exactly what I’d need without me even voicing it. I’ve never had that before. My heart swells with a mixture of gratitude and something I can’t quite put my finger on.
“Andi did this?”
“Sure did,” Mom says, entering the kitchen behind Maisey, who Emma has to coax not to touch the dusty pantry items. “Andi was absolutely wonderful company, by the way. Invite her back more often.”
Em’s eyes widen. “Speaking of Andi, I meant to tell you, I hired new staff. Met a couple girls from Ottawa at the convention who were looking for work.”
“That’s great news,” I say. I know how badly she needs reliable staff to help her out at the salon. “But what does that have to do with Andi?”
