Page 130 of The Perfect Love

I open it and find… garlic bread. Chelsea’s favorite.

“Thank you. Maybe that’ll lift her spirits a bit. Oh, do you have any tea? I remember there was this tea my mom used to drink…”I trail off. It’s been close to five years since she started going through menopause, so I don’t remember what the hell it was called.

But Chelsea’s grandmother—Matilda, but goes by Mattie—walks across the kitchen and pulls open the cupboard.

“I know what you’re talking about. She hates the taste of that one, but this…” She holds one out to me. “Is milder and should still help. Brew it lightly and add some honey.”

“Thanks.”

Before I find a mug, I grab my phone and snap a picture of the box so I can grab some for her when we get back to Old Lake Town.

“I like how you take care of her,” Mattie says.

My eyes lift to hers. “I’m happy to do it. Anything to help her feel better. I’d take on all that pain if I could.”

She looks at me, assessing. “Good. I’m sorry if we came on strong when you got here last night.”

I laugh as I move to the sink to fill the kettle with water. “No, you’re not. I know why you do it. Put it all out there. Be a little over the top. Scare off the wrong ones right away before anyone gets too attached. I’d do the same. If they can’t handle it, it means they’re not the right fit.” I flick the burner on, then turn back to her. “Not much scares me. The only thing that drives me away is people treating someone I love poorly—or being assholes in general. That’s far from the case here. I can take a little family wildness.”

“I had a good feeling about you. Glad to know I was right. Keep taking care of my girl. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

“Oh, and there are trays under the island to help you carry all that upstairs.”

“Thanks.”

She smiles, then walks out the back door.

When I get back to Chelsea’s room, she’s propped up on some pillows, watching some Netflix Christmas movie.

She perks up at the sight of the tray. “What’s all that?”

I set the tea on her bedside table and hand her the heat wrap before putting the tray on her lap.

“Tea and sustenance. Your gran made garlic bread.”

“Mm. Yes. I’m starving.”

I sit down next to her, and she leans over to kiss me, her hand skating up my arm as she does. Then she pinches me.

“The fantasy book boyfriend thing again?” I sigh.

She bites her lip and smiles. “Nope. My real-life book boyfriend.”

“I’m moving up in the world.”

“I’m finally starting to believe you’re real.”

I wrap my arm around her back, then press a kiss to her head. “Believe it, babe. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“No way. The Metros are the best baseball team in New York,” I say adamantly.

“You’re just saying that because you got to play against them, and have friends who work and play for them,” Robbie says.

“Technically, my friends work for their affiliate team, the Binghamton Knights.” I stare at them for a beat. “Because they’re the best team in New York… if not the whole East Coast,” I add, making Chelsea’s dad—Gene—and Robbie yell.

“Better than the Boston Revs?” Gene demands.

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