Page 195 of The Re-Proposal

I nod back. “Ladies, would you like to have lunch at The Louvre? I booked us a private room.”

“No thanks. I’m going to cook.That’show we do things, Mr. Bolton. We don’t spend money like it grows on trees.”

“Mom…” Clarissa scolds.

I’m going to assume I’m not invited tothatcook-out.

I back off. “Maybe next time then.”

“Join us,” Clarissa offers. “My mom makes an amazing casserole.”

Liandra looks like she’d rather gouge my eyes out than sit across a table from me and share her casserole.

I shake my head. “I’ll drop you both off, but I won’t stay.”

Clarissa nods. “You want to say bye to Joel?”

“He’s sleeping.”

She peers in, looking surprised. “Huh? He was up a second ago. I wanted to introduce him to mom.”

“It’s fine. Let him sleep.” I choke out the words. “The nurse will watch him until you get back. Your mom’s in town. You can take off a few hours.”

“Are you okay?” Clarissa steps close to me and squeezes my hand. Her eyes scour my face.

How does she do that? It’s like she sees me, the parts of me I try so hard to hide. I want to gather up all my worries, spread them out in front of her and work it out together.

But I can’t.

I have to be strong for her.

Control, don’t be controlled, Cody.

I’m about to change the subject, but Liandra does it for me. She tugs on her daughter’s free arm until Ris drops her hold.

“I’m starving, honey. And I want to see your fancy apartment.”

“It’s notthatfancy, mom.” Clarissa laughs.

The two women walk to the parking lot accompanied by Doberman’s team. Clarissa’s curls bounce with every step. Her laughter is the sweetest music.

I want to keep that laughter going. I want that smile to be permanent.

But it seems like that smile is destined to leave her beautiful face.

And it’ll all be my fault.

I move to follow them when something deep inside makes me stop. Hesitating, I turn back and watch Joel’s frail body. It doesn’t feel right just leaving.

Awkwardly, I approach the bed and reach out to pat his shoulder.

Then I stop.

Clear my throat.

Pull my hand back.

“You got this, kid.”

---