Page 34 of Liberating Love

That makes me back away and wipe my face off—why are my cheeks wet?—as I turn to my mom and say, “Mom, this is my… Delaney.” What the hell? What was I about to call him? He’s just a friend… that I’ve seen naked, many many times. I clear my throat, but still can’t look him in the eyes. “Delaney, this is my mother, Everly.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Everly,” Delaney says.

My mom eyes us both for a moment, and I wonder what’s going to come out of her mouth, but then she just turns around and walks back into the living room.

With a cringe, I say, “I’m really sorry, she’s, uh… she has Alzheimer’s. She doesn’t like people coming over because she’s embarrassed when she forgets things.” When I realize how that sounds, I add, “But I’m glad you’re here. She’ll be fine, but just be aware that she might say something rude.”

“It’s okay, Freckles.” He runs his hand through my hair and down my back where he rests it, and I finally look at him. He’s smiling softly, staring at me with something akin to adoration, and it makes me feel all choked up again.

It takes me a few tries to get my voice to work, and when I do, I can still hear the emotion clogging up my throat and chest. “What, uh, what did you bring with you?”

He offers another smile. “I brought dinner—I made some chicken, rice, and broccoli since your mom likes home-cooked meals—some muffins from the shop around the corner that I know your mom likes, and a puzzle. I know you said she likes them, so I thought—”

Before he can finish, I practically dive into him again, hugging his waist and whispering, “Thank you.” How did he even remember all of that about my mom? How is he so thoughtful?

He chuckles and holds me tight for a few minutes before I pull away. I know I’m blushing like crazy because my reaction is seriously embarrassing, but I’m so relieved he’s here to care too much.

He grins at me, then leans down to press his lips to mine in a quick but fierce kiss before he starts unloading his bags. When he hands me a paper bag, I ask, “What’s this?”

“Your lo mein.”

I blink at him. “You… said you cooked dinner.”

Without looking up from his task, he says, “For your mom and me, yeah, but I know how much you look forward to your lo mein, so I picked that up for you.”

I think I just realized where that sayingthe way to a man’s heart is through his stomachcomes from because my heart does a weird flip in my chest and all I can do is stare at this man for a few long moments. Where did he come from? And why does he have to be so considerate? So kind? So… sweet? There’s no future I can see where he’s still in my life, I know that. This is going to have to end, and right now, in this moment, I know I’m going to fall apart when it does. God, this whole week has been such a rollercoaster, and now my emotions are all over the place. Ugh. I try to push them down—way way way down—and focus on the fact that he brought two different dinners, so I say, “Jesus, D. You didn’t need to do all of this.”

He aims that smile at me again. “I wanted to.”

And there goes my damn heart again. Dammit.

* * *

The evening passes by quickly,and I don’t know why it surprises me that Delaney is so patient with my mom and that she seems completely charmed by him, but it does. It’s weird having him in my space, but even weirder to see that he somehow fits here.

After I get my mom set for the night in her bed, I walk back out to the living room, and Delaney says, “Your mom is great.”

“Thanks.” I plop down on the couch, exhausted beyond belief and unsure of what to do right now.

Delaney eyes me for a long moment before he leans across the space between us and drags me closer to him, wrapping me in his arms. I melt into his side and rest my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes.Maybe I can soak up everything now, maybe I can reserve some of his warmth so I have it when he disappears from my life. …Yeah right.

Our feet tangle together on my ottoman as we watch a movie together, Delaney pressing small kisses to my forehead and hair every now and then. I’m hardly paying attention to the movie, almost drifting off to sleep, but when it’s over, I mutter, “Thanks for everything with my mom.”

He squeezes me. “I like her.”

“You’re really good with her.”

He shrugs, making my head move with his shoulder, and he says, “Doing that puzzle with her reminded me a little bit of some of the guys I helped in prison.”

I nod, then tilt my head to smile up at him. “You liked helping them.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“That’s what you should do, then.”

“What do you mean?”

I sit up to better face him. “You’ve been trying to find something to do for work, right? I know you like helping your friend with his rentals, but I know you don’t want to do that forever. So… why not see if you can get a job helping inmates or maybe guys on parole?”

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