Chapter 21

Ishift the warm pan from my hand to my hip as I ring the doorbell. In the movement, the empty Tupperware dish on top of the pan almost tumbles to the ground with the plastic grocery bag full of books. Thankfully, Nola opens the door and catches the Tupperware before it hits the porch. The movement makes me smile. Her reflexes are still good.

"This is a surprise!" she says. Her voice is weak, but her smile is genuine. I stare at it a moment, thinking about how much her smile is like Liam's…when he actually smiles.

Looking closer at her, I notice little things about the resemblance between her and her son that I missed before. Her eyes are the same brown, her ears are dainty and close to her head like his, and I wish I could learn her hair color without seeming rude. I bet it's dark brown like Liam's when chemo hasn't taken it. As it is, she's rocking a floral headscarf that's stylishly knotted at the side of her neck.

I smile and hold the screen door open with my butt. "Hi, Nola. I wanted to stop by and return your Tupperware. I know how valuable it is with that lifetime warranty and everything. I also thought I'd save your son some trouble and go to the library for you." I wave the bag of paperbacks at her, and she gasps in joy, even clapping her hands.

"Oh, thank you. Liam doesn't read the description well, and I often end up with inspirational romance." She shivers like she has a chill, and I cringe. "Nothing wrong with holding hands, but I prefer a good dicking down. Come in! Come in and chat a bit. It's nice to see someone other than my son or the grouchy nurse the service sends over."

She waves me into her living room and immediately sits on her sofa, pulling a blue blanket over her legs. The effort to answer the door and shuffle around must have already zapped her energy. I sit across from her in the seat Liam sat in the last time I was here. Sinking into the soft fabric of the recliner, I wonder if this is his chair. Something about that makes me feel close to him.

I haven't seen him for four days. I texted him to see if he was alright after being high at court, and he responded he was. I haven't heard from him since, and part of me being at his mother's house is me returning the Tupperware.

Part of it is me fishing for information.

"How are you, Lorelei? Tell me everything."

"Well, I accidentally got your son high when he ate the honey in my cabinet, he made an ass of himself in court, and I haven't heard from him. I was kind of hoping he's told you his plans to never speak to me again because I sure wish he'd talk to me."

She laughs and rummages through the bag of books I brought her, nodding in approval as she pulls every book out of the bag, smiles at the cover, and stacks it next to others. "Quite the contrary. I talked to him briefly last night when he brought over a few groceries. He's busy at work. They're getting ready for some kind of big bust, and the only person he's been seeing is that smoking hot partner of his. I wouldn't mind if that Chase fellow came over and cheered up an old woman…" Her voice trails off, and I clear my throat. "Liam couldn't drive me to chemo the other day because he was filing paperwork to the judge."

I breathe out a sigh of relief that Liam not talking to me isn't about me this time. Lola notices my relief and tilts her head to the side. "You're falling in love with my son, aren't you?"

"If I am, are you going to tell him?"

"I'd never give him the satisfaction, honey." She slaps her legs and leans back. "If you're running as a wife candidate, you have my vote."

"Is that because he doesn't get out much?"

She shakes her head. "No. It's because there's been a change in him the last few weeks."

"What kind of change?"

"That stick that's been in his ass his whole life has started to wedge itself out a little. He doesn't stomp as much when he walks. It's like there's a kitten with glitter on his shoulder, and I think you're the glitter kitten. Has he told you he's falling hard for you yet?"

I fiddle with the aluminum foil on the pan of baked goods I brought her. "Do you think he's falling for me?"

"He hasn't said he is," she says, and my shoulders slouch in disappointment. No use hiding it from his mom. "But I know. I see something there. I saw it when he had you in handcuffs in my living room the first time. He's softer with you, and Liam has never been soft." She looks at the pictures on a side table, and I notice a picture of a boy of about thirteen with a mop haircut and braces. I never noticed it before, probably thinking it was a nephew. It's so…un-Liam. The kid is smiling like he's actually happy.

Nola smiles at the picture. "He was a happy kid. Don't get me wrong, he was a tough little bastard that didn't tolerate bullying. But happy. He didn't get hard and sad until Amanda died. That fucked him up bad. Then you popped up last month. Something is different. That's all I know."

Silence stretches between us, and I get up and fiddle with things on her coffee table, putting them into stacks. She watches me, probably glad for the help to tidy up a bit. I straighten her crochet project, and I take two empty bottles of water to the kitchen recycling bin. When I come back, Nola's in the same spot and watching me. Waiting for something.

I sit down in Liam's chair again and pat my braid. "I think I'm falling in love with your son. I just can't help it. There is nothing more fulfilling than getting that sour asshole to smile or laugh. Sure, I want to punch him in the throat about half the time, but that other half is destroying me."

She smiles. "I know, honey. I'm glad you love him. I think he loves you. Maybe you two should just forget about your differences, elope, and give me ten grandchildren."

I smile at the thought of having children with Liam, and Nola mumbles something under her breath I can't hear. What do you say to the mother of the man you love when you want him to love you back? Do I ask her to put in a good word with him?

I settle for more practical small talk. "How are you feeling these days?"

"Awful. Chemo's kicking my ass the longer it goes on."

"Liam says it looks good this time."

She nods. "It does. They just want me to finish the treatment to be sure they got it all with surgery and all the poison they've pumped into me. Some days, I can hardly move. The nausea is the worst. I have my good days when I'm able to keep food down and actually have an appetite, but those days are few and far between."

I look at the pan of brownies I brought her. "I may have brought you a present that isn't dick books. You can't tell your son, though."

"Oh, a secret?" Nola smiles, sitting up a little straighter.

"I made you some special brownies. You know what I mean." I wink at her.

"The kind my son would never approve of and has spent his career fighting?"

"Yes, ma'am." I pull the foil back and show them to her. "I didn't put nuts in them because I didn't know if you're allergic, and I didn't think about your lack of appetite. But if you feel like eating, eat one in the morning and one in the evening around dinner so you have an appetite. Small pieces. Not big ones unless it's not helping. Then go bigger. Oh, and don't let your son accidentally eat them, especially not before work or a court appearance. He certainly doesn't need these before sitting in front of Judge McNulty again. Tell them they have laxatives in them or something. Want me to write that on there in Sharpie?"

"He'd probably want to eat them then. It might help remove the stick from his butt."

We both laugh, and I take the pan of brownies into the kitchen, pushing them into the back of her refrigerator behind old butter tubs and a jar of olives. At the last moment, I stop and pull the pan out. I search through the cabinets until I find a small plate. Cutting a small piece for her, I replace the pan and walk the brownie out to her. "This will help with any mild pain, but it will certainly help with nausea."

Nola enthusiastically takes the plate and immediately takes a small bite, chewing a little before forcing the swallow down. She looks up at the ceiling and sighs. "I wish I had the appetite to eat the whole pan."

"Definitely don't do that," I chuckle.

"You have a gift. This is the best brownie I've ever tasted, and even my taste buds haven't been working properly."

I pat her shoulder and walk to the door. "I hope they make you feel better, Nola. You deserve that. If you want, I can bring you more books next week."

She smiles and waves as I open the door. "Stay out of trouble," she says. "Don't go to any donkey shows." I freeze and turn around as she laughs and wipes her mouth with a nearby paper towel. "Yeah, I looked that up. Kind of wish I didn't."