18. Tommy

Chapter eighteen

Tommy

H olding Tilly close to my chest through three more songs, my desire to whisk her away to the privacy of her hotel room only grows. With my arms around her, my mind is flooded with thoughts of getting her alone, exploring every inch of her body in ways I've fantasized about countless times.

That kiss. Fuck. That beautiful perfect kiss. Witnessing her response, the way her eyes clouded over with desire, the involuntary shudder under my touch, it was all I ever imagined it would be. Lifting her hand, I gaze into her curious eyes as I press a kiss to her open palm, never breaking eye contact. The sound she makes, a mix of surprise and delight, goes straight to my already half hard cock.

The craving to do more with her is overwhelming, every fiber of my being is screaming for me to sweep her off her feet and find somewhere to undress her from the sexy as sin dress. But patience wins out; it has to. It's either that or go head to head with her terrifying aunt. I'm a man, okay? I know I'm supposed to be fearless and protective. But how the hell am I supposed to protect her from her own fucking family? Now's not really the time to sort that out, so I don't. Pushing the thought away, I hold onto Tilly tighter. It's all I can do at the moment and really, all I want anyway.

Halfway through the next slow number, Miranda rushes past us and I almost miss her warning. "I just overhead Keaton talking to Don. He need's to leave. Now."

Without hesitating, Tilly drags me from the dance floor. Instead of heading for the exit, she pushes me against the back wall, her lips seeking mine with an urgency that sets my pulse racing. I can hardly breathe. "Uh, Til, not that I'm complaining, but aren't we leaving?" I manage to get out between her kisses.

"Just trust me," she breathes against my neck, her tongue tracing lines that send shivers all over my body. I'm acutely aware of the many eyes on us and I have to admit, it's kind of hot. "Tickle me," she whispers. I recoil, my brows low on my forehead. For a moment, I'm frozen because its such a bizarre request. But when my eyes meet hers, I see the desperation. "Please," she adds.

I play along, scrunching my fingers along her sides drawing a loud, exaggerated giggle from her. After the strange display, she grabs onto my hand. Dragging me, she pulls us to the elevator, her affections bold and unreserved as we walk. She's nibbling my ear, and squeezing my ass. I can't help but wonder if she enjoys the thrill of being seen. To my surprise, the idea doesn't horrify me. But then again, everything about being with Tilly is exciting. Who am I to judge if she wants people to see how much we like each other?

Inside the elevator, she presses me against the wall again, her kisses promising more once we're upstairs. But as the doors close, she stops, stepping back. Her eyes going from sultry to scared in an instant.

"What was that?" I ask, utterly breathless from her affections.

"I wanted them to think I had to get you alone," she says.

"You don't?" I ask, half-joking.

"It's all a game to them. They'd think they won if they knew we were running scared. But yes, you do need to go and I'm going with you." She bites her lip and rubs at her chest. Like she's struggling with her racing heart. The sight calms any thoughts of sexy time. Standing in front of her, I tilt my head, trying to show my concern. "Hey, is everything okay?"

Moisture builds in her eyes and she snaps her gaze away from me. "If Andy is telling you to leave, it's bad."

"Oh," I say and huff out a breath. Rubbing my neck, I try to shrug it off. "What can you do?" I'm saying it as a rhetorical question because it's fairly obvious neither of us can really do anything.

But to my surprise, Tilly perks up a bit. "Did you say your mom's place is nearby?"

"Yeah, about ten minutes down the road. But we're going up?" I point to the ceiling, trying to make sense of her plan.

"We'll take the stairs back down and sneak out," she says swiftly. There's a nervousness in her voice that is pissing me off. Not at her. Never at her. But at this damn situation. She truly is terrified of what could happen if we stay.

Executing her well thought out plan, we rush down the stairs to my car. Its as if I've been transported into a spy movie, or at the very least, someone else's life, where this kind of thing is normal. Hell, I'm the guy that's always ready with a good time and a beer. Usually on a beach somewhere. Running scared in a snowy landscape? I nearly laugh. Only Tilly could get me to do something like this.

We both get into my rental car and I leave the resort in the rearview mirror. There's no regret about what has happened. Not for me.

As I navigate the salt-covered highway, Tilly falls silent, her gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside the window.

"You okay?" I ask her again. She nods, her mind seemingly still back at the resort. "Well, my mom is gonna be thrilled. She's been begging to meet you."

Tilly turns to me, an eyebrow lifted in surprise. "Your mom knows who I am?"

I can feel my ears starting to burn. "Uh, yeah. She has a knack for extracting information. You'll see." Suddenly, I'm hit by a wave of nerves. The thought of introducing the woman I love to my mother is unexpectedly daunting. Yet, the thought brings a smile to my face. It's a positive change, and my mom? She's welcoming to everyone. Maybe a bit too straightforward at times, but most find it charming. Considering Tilly has a similar way of talking to people, I have a feeling they'll be thick as thieves as soon as they meet.

Ten minutes later, we're pulling into my mom's driveway. It's only 9:30 PM, and luckily, the door's still unlocked. Hand in hand, we walk in.

Murphy, my mom's dog, is at our feet in an instant, his tail wagging so hard his whole backside is shaking. Tilly bends down to greet him. "Oh my gosh, a dog!" She's immediately taken with Murphy, her hands working through his fur, sending tufts of it into the air. I watch her, hands in my pockets to keep from grabbing on like I want to as she beams with joy, looking absolutely radiant. It's so different from how she looked at the resort and I know I've made the right decision in bringing her here.

"Ma! I'm home," I yell out.

I hear her footsteps before she rounds the corner. "Hi, baby. Sorry, I was doing the crossword in the bath. You want a snack?"

Tilly stands up, shyly glancing at the floor as my mom appears in her bathrobe, hair pinned atop her head.

"Ma!" I have to raise my voice as she's still focused on her book, bifocals perched low on her nose. Finally, she looks up, and upon seeing Tilly, breaks into a wide grin. She comes over quickly and introduces herself. "I'm Henrietta. You must be Tilly." Tilly reaches out to shake her hand, but mom goes in for a big hug instead.

It takes Tilly a moment to return the gesture. "Oh, that's nice," she says awkwardly. I'm fighting a laugh. Yeah, Tilly is not a hugger.

My mom pulls away and is immediately in super mom mode. "Are you guys hungry? I can whip up some pasta or something."

"I'm starving," I confess, starting to take off my coat as Murphy weaves excitedly around our legs.

Ma's already heading to the kitchen. "Well, come on then. Don't be shy. We don't do shy here."

Out of earshot, I offer an apologetic shrug. "Sorry, she's a little—"

"Perfect?" Tilly finishes for me, her face lighting up with a broad smile. I wrap my arm around her waist and guide her towards the kitchen, where Ma's already busy chopping ingredients, a pan sizzling behind her.

"Ma runs a catering company. She's been a chef for thirty years," I mention, pulling out a chair for Tilly to sit.

"And a damn good one at that," Ma says, looking up from her cooking. "Oops, sorry about the cursing." But then her gaze shifts to our attire, and she drops her knife in shock. "Hold on a second. I thought you were at a memorial?" She drops the knife and puts both hands on her cheeks. "My god, you both look fantastic!"

Without waiting for an answer, she wipes her hands on a dishtowel and dashes down the hall. "Stir the garlic!" she calls back.

I head to the giant six burner stove, doing as I am told, waiting for Ma to return. Seconds later, she comes back wielding a giant Canon camera.

"Ma, no," I say, shaking my head in disbelief but a grin rests on my lips. I really should have expected this.

"It's a cold day in hell when my baby tells me no. Now go stand next to her," she insists, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"Lord, it's like prom all over again," I grumble, but there's a theatrical roll in my voice.

Tilly stands, smoothing out her dress. I wrap an arm around her hip, hoping I'm not being too affectionate. But after everything tonight, I want to keep her close. "She gets a bit excited about these things. Best just to go along with it," I say in her ear, trying to lighten the mood with a laugh. Tilly gives a shy smile, playing along.

Ma snaps a few photos before finally setting the camera aside. "Now, tell me everything about your night. How was it?" She asks with a cautious tone. I know she remembers it was a memorial, but I don't know if I mentioned it was for Tilly's father. Appreciation rushes through me. Ma is being careful. She was always good with social cues.

I tell her a little about the ballroom, and tell her there was some dancing, stealing a glance at Tilly. Dancing with her, holding her close as music filled the air around us, has quickly climbed to the top of my favorite memories. And that kiss—the real, fiery one on the dance floor—was the best moment of my life. Just thinking about it makes my legs feel wobbly all over again.

"Is this at Michael's resort? No wonder you're starving. Those dolts, they always oversalt their sauces," Mom says as she plates the pasta and slides it across the counter. It's a single plate but with two forks, hinting at her not-so-subtle attempt to get me and Tilly closer.

"Ma, you're not sneaky," I shake my head, though I still reach for a fork. Turning down any of Ma's cooking is stupid. Like driving drunk stupid.

"If I was really being pushy, I'd tell you to close your eyes and let her feed you. It really enhances the flavors," Ma teases.

I chuckle at that, but then Tilly catches me off guard, grabbing my forearm before I can take a bite.

"Play along, baby . Can't hurt," she says, wiggling her eyebrows at the nickname Ma always uses for me. She twirls some pasta onto the fork and holds it out.

Looking between Ma and Tilly, I know I can't win this one. So, I close my eyes and open my mouth, surrendering to their playful setup.

But the wait for the food to hit my lips feels eternal, and when it finally does, it's horribly wrong. Bitter, salty, completely unexpected. I spit it out, baffled, and look for an explanation.

Both of them burst into giggles, Ma holding up a bottle of soy sauce as the culprit of the prank.

"Well, that's a dirty trick," I complain, trying to get rid of the taste with a nearby towel.

"You're still being punished for saying I can't cook," Tilly says before she takes her own bite. When she does, her eyebrows shoot up. "Henrietta, this is amazing!"

"Just a little quick Alfredo," Ma says nonchalantly, already cleaning up her small mess. Tilly and I eat our food, as Ma asks more questions, mostly about Tilly. Where she works, how long she's known me, what her favorite coffee is. The entire time, Tilly beams. She's glowing at the attention, but I think it's at my mom too. I don't blame her. Compared to her family, my mom is an angel. Of course, I've always thought—no, wait, known—that.

Once we're done, my mom leans against the fridge, her gaze lingering on us. "So, Tilly. Are you staying tonight?" Ma asks, blunt as ever.

"If that's okay ma, yeah," I chime in quickly, really hoping she says yes and also hoping Tilly doesn't disagree. I want her in my bed. To wake up next to her, see her in the early morning light. Its sappy and probably inappropriate for what Tilly has been through, but I can't help it. Now that I've had a taste, I can't be expected to let go.

"Of course, it's okay. There're guest rooms down the hall where you can bunk with Tommy," Ma suggests casually.

"Ma, you really gotta stop doing that," I say, feeling my cheeks heat up. Yeah its what I want, but I really don't need my mother to be involved in it.

Ma raises her hands in surrender. "Sorry. Boundaries, I know. There's also a second room if you're shy. Did you bring anything with you?"

Tilly admits she hasn't, but Ma is already on the move. She disappears down the hall only to return a moment later. "Here are pajamas, a new toothbrush, and some makeup remover," she says, handing them to Tilly.

Ma leans back, giving us that knowing look. I'm silently begging her not to do something embarrassing, but deep down I know its futile. She sighs through a smile, like she's watching a fawn learn to walk right in front of her. "The night is for the young. I have my shows and wine waiting."

"Ma, we don't want to put you out," I try to say, but she's already dismissing my concerns, heading to her room.

"Nonsense. If I miss tonight's episode, I'll be wondering all week what happened. I'll see you two in the morning."

Once alone, I get up to rinse our plate. It only takes a few seconds and I turn around. To my surprise, Tilly hasn't moved. She's just staring at the items in her arms that my mom gave her.

"Til?" My concern comes through in my voice. I have no idea what's going on in her head, but its clear she's upset. Her eyes are full of unshed tears, her lip quivering as she looks at the stuff.

Finally, her chin raises, and she looks at me. "She's so…nice!" The word unleashes a flood of sobs. I'm at her side in an instant, so entirely confused about why she's crying. Regardless of the reason, I pull her to me, a sense of protectiveness in my firm grip around her.

"You're upset because she's nice?" I ask, voice laced with amusement.

"My family is so messed up, Tommy... I just don't know how to—I'm so sorry," she says, stuttering through her tears.

"Hey, hey," I say, trying my best to keep my words soft. "You're not responsible for them."

"Maybe not, but in all my life, I have never been treated so much like family. If she knew—"

"Stop that. If she knew what flaming piles of dog shit your family was, she would want you here even more. My mom has a way, I don't really get it, but she helps people. It's her thing, like her life's purpose or something."

"She doesn't even know me!" Tilly's sobs turn to hysterics; her emotions exposed unlike I've ever seen before. She's always been so strong, so confident. My heart is sinking into the pit of my stomach, trying not to panic at my inability to ease her pain. Fuck her family. Fuck them for making her like this.

I do the only thing I can think of; hold onto her even tighter. "My mom knows I love you, Tilly. That's enough for her."

The words slipped out, raw and honest, but I can't find it in me to regret them. Tilly's tears stop abruptly, her breath seeming to cease altogether. Shit. She's staring at me, wide eyed like I just told her she has ten seconds to live. I wince, but don't break our gaze. If she's waiting for me to correct myself or backtrack, she'll be waiting forever. It's like a battle of wills and I'm determined to not break first.