Page 35 of One Hotlanta Night
friday
“Almost there, Raelynn,” I singsong as I turn right off Gwinnett Place Drive. She’s had a rough day, diabetes-wise. To the point where I’ve been second-guessing my date with Michael tonight in case Claire needs backup. Raelynn’s blood sugars kept dropping, and it’s been hard getting her to eat anything, so I plied her with juice boxes and spoonfuls of peanut butter. I was pretty confident we’d get her to eat something at The Pork Belly though. Who can resist homestyle mac-n-cheese?
“Yay, Mommy!” she calls out from her car seat, but the sound is a little weak. Uh oh. Pulling into a parking space, I glance back to see her pale and slightly sweaty face.
“Okay, sweet girl, Aunt Viv is going to test you again,” I let her know as I unzip her kit and pull out her glucometer.
“Noooo!” Her little face scrunches up as she starts to cry.
“I know, I know,” I soothe as I open the back door to sit with her. “It’ll just take a second, I promise.” As I search each of herfingers for an unblemished spot that hasn’t already been jabbed a million times, I cringe. Each tender finger pad bears the telltale red pinprick of multiple sticks. I hate that she has to go through this, thatanykid has to get poked and prodded multiple times a day just to stay alive. I wish they could figure out some way to make testing not so painful.
Finding a relatively unmarked section on Raelynn’s thumb, I whisper, “One-two-three,” and quickly depress the “pokey stick” as she calls it and drop the blood onto her strip. Even though she knows the sting is coming, she likes to have a heads up. Wiping away the dark red blood with a tissue, I wrap my arm around Raelynn’s tiny shoulders as we silently count down the thirty seconds it takes to give a reading.
My chest constricts when the screen reads 53.Far too low. No wonder the girl is miserable.
“Okay, sweet girl, I need you to eat some Sweet Tarts for me,” I say, but Raelynn’s whimpers turn into outright sobs. She hates chewing anything when she feels like crap, but I’ve got to get some sugar in her fast before she drops any lower.
Unbuckling her five-point harness, I quickly scoop her into my arms and she latches onto me like a koala. As I bump the car door shut with my hip, a sleek green Mustang pulls into the space next to me. The driver gets out and rounds the car, coming my way… and I almost trip on the sidewalk when I see that it’s Michael. He’s early.
Whoa, my heart breathes as I take him in.
If I thought he looked good that night at L’Aventura, he is absolutely delicious now. The light blue polo shirt stretches tightly across his muscled chest, and his dark jeans hug that hot ass. I’ve never paid much attention to guys’ butts before, but he is quickly making me an ass chick. His hair is styled into soft waves that look like he merely finger combed them and left them to the wind, so effortlessly sexy. But it’s his eyes that arrest methe most. If anything, he’s looking at me even more intensely than when he first stole my gaze that night, and my insides start to burst into flame.
Raelynn whimpers over my shoulder, breaking me from my blatant eye-fucking, reminding me why we were rushing in the first place. Michael’s eyes soften when he takes us in, his eyes searching mine.
“I have to get some sugar into her,” I say, resuming my swift pace into the restaurant. Michael’s steps match my own as he walks ahead of us to quickly open the double doors.
I rush toward the bar with him in tow and try to shift her weight to my hip so I can make Raelynn a drink. She’s always been a sucker for our Southern-style sweet tea, and I figure this’ll be the fastest way to get her glucose back up.
“What’s going on there, princess?” asks Derrick, poking his head up from where he’s cleaning behind the bar.
“She’s pretty low. Can you…?”
“Got it,” he says, quickly reaching for a plastic kids cup emblazoned with a colorful design. Little details matter, and if I’m going to get Raelynn to drink and not fight me while she’s having a bad low, I need all the help I can get.
“Not too much!” I warn Derrick as he starts to pour the tea.
“Relax, Vivian. I know the drill,” he reassures me as he fixes a lid and puts in a bendy straw. He presents it with a flourish to Raelynn who’s still clutching me like a teddy bear, asking, “Miss Raelynn, can you do me a favor and drink this down for me, princess?” Raelynn’s tear-streaked face watches him for a moment, her eyes wide and evaluating. Finally she nods and takes the cup, and I release my breath quietly as I watch her start to sip. Low sugars can make her cranky and combative, and I’m glad she’s not resisting anymore.
“Can you tell—”
“I’ll grab Claire,” he says, ruffling Raelynn’s hair softly before rounding the bar and heading into the back. The care he shows her would make you think she was his own daughter. With a deep sigh, I close my eyes only to open them when I feel a warm arm wrap around my shoulder, not unlike how I’d held Raelynn in the car.
“Oh hey, Michael,” I start as I realize that he’s been standing here watching everything play out.
“She gets low blood sugars?” Michael asks softly, stroking his thumb across my bare shoulder. The gesture shouldn’t make me feel so comforted, but it does.
“Yeah, she’s diabetic.”
“Type one, right?”
“Yep,” I respond. My eyes fight to stay open as he keeps rubbing circles, the sensation hypnotic. Today wasn’t just rough for Raelynn. My shoulders are killing me and I want to fall asleep with him doing that for, oh, I don’t know, a day, all week?
“My grandmother has type two. I’ve seen her blood sugar go down, but not quite like…” He gestures in Raelynn’s direction.
“Yeah, it’s different with juvenile. She’s been running low all day, and I don’t know why. I didn’t want to call Claire and bother her, especially when I was already bringing Raelynn to the restaurant tonight. It’s… not easy,” I finish. For a minute, I realize I’ve been rubbing circles over Raelynn’s back in rhythm to the ones Michael’s stroking over mine. He steps closer, cocooning both of us, and that warmth I felt earlier spreads through the rest of my body. The way he’s practically sheltering us makes me feel safe, and I sink into the protection of his arms.
“How’s my girl doing?” I ask, brushing away the tears that have mostly dried on Raelynn’s face.
