by Abby Knox
“Who the hell is Garrett?”
Eliza waves her hand in the air to get her mother’s attention. “This, this is Garrett. Garrett Strong, this is my mom.”
“Mrs. Little.” I nod and stick out my hand automatically.
Eliza’s mother doesn’t accept my hand at first. “I repeat. Who are you to my mother?”
“I’m her neighbor.”
I pray that Betty keeps her mouth shut to prevent Karen from flipping her lid. But she doesn’t.
“Until Eliza came to see me, he has power of attorney in case things go south.”
She gapes at me. “Excuse me?”
I look up over at Eliza in time to see her flinch, waiting for the shouting to begin.
I wince. “I was hoping to explain this to you over coffee one day,” I say to Karen.
Karen then turns back to Grams and says, “Why would you give a total stranger your information like that? Why would you put someone in charge of you, who’s not even family?”
“You know this isn’t good for my stress, Karen. Why don’t you calm down, and we can talk about some things?” Betty says.
Eliza’s voice is unsure and unsteady, very unlike her. “You want us to stay?”
“No, honey,” Grams says. “I’ll have the nurse call one of you and let you know when the surgery is. Just this time, please make sure your phone is not on silent while you’re messing around so you can hear me when I call in case of an emergency this time?”
My whole entire body turns beet red, and I can’t even look at Eliza. I offer a “yes, ma’am,” and we steer ourselves away from the scene.
When we pull into Grams’ driveway, I offer what is sure to be the first of many apologies.
“I’m sorry I never took the time to reach out to your mom and tell her about the power of attorney thing. Betty didn’t want me to, even though I intended to contact Karen. I was waiting for the right time. Betty said her daughter—your mom—could be difficult. I’m sorry I put you and Betty in an awkward position.”
Eliza holds up her hand. “Garrett, it’s not your fault. I know exactly how Grams is, and choosing you makes perfect sense to her. It makes sense to me, too. It’s hard to go against her wishes, and it’s difficult to talk to my mom. But now, that’s done. And no matter what my mom says, you’re a part of the family as far as I’m concerned.”
I chuckle. “You need more sleep. I’ll wake you when the nurse calls.”
She stretches, yawns, and says, “First, I need a shower.”
Chapter Nineteen
Eliza
I can barely keep my eyes open, let alone my knees from buckling. I’m so tired and sore from sleeping on hospital furniture.
But the shower is exactly what I need first.
Having a man surrounding me, holding me under the spray, doesn’t hurt either.
His chest is the perfect place to rest. I close my eyes and lean into his strength. Garrett feathers his lips over my forehead, a sweet, caring gesture. At the same time, he massages my body everywhere with the lathery loofah.
When he moves behind me, his arms slip around my ribs, hugging me against his frame. I can feel his erection against my backside. And despite my exhaustion, my body wakes up again.
And instantly, I feel guilty about it.
Who am I to be thinking about sex while Grams is in the hospital awaiting brain surgery?
And yet, all I want to do is bask in his comforting touch. There’s nothing I can do at the moment but care for myself and my needs. And what I need is to have zero distance between myself and this man.
His words in my ear send vibrations of warmth throughout my body. “You want me to wash your hair?”
This man who has already given so much of himself is asking to do still more for me.
“It’s kind of a lot of hair,” I remind him.
“Eliza.”
“Okay, yes. Please.”
I’m aware of experts who only provide scalp massage and shampoos. Garrett could become a legend in that profession. His fingers rub gently and slowly through my scalp, massaging the exotic-smelling shampoo through my wet hair. There’s something so decadent about someone doing this for a person. And intimate. In New York, I’ve occasionally splurged on a scalp massage along with my regular hair appointment.
I’m imagining having full-time access to this man, his fingers, his general expertise with my body. Would I uproot my life for this?
Don’t ask that right now; you’re too tired, I remind myself.
Of course, he moves on to the conditioner without being asked, and begins to work it through my long locks.
“People pay good money for this. You would be legendary.”
Garrett’s hands stretch out each lock, paying particular attention to moisturizing the ends. How does he know how to do this? “I imagine it’s a lot of money. Especially since I’d be getting naked and all.”
I groan as he finishes up with the conditioning and stick my head under the spray. Through the water, I splutter. “Too bad. I’m not sharing. You’re mine.”
Obviously, my eyes are closed while I’m rinsing my hair, so I get a shock when the brick wall of his warmth disappears for a second.
I wipe the water from my eyes, and when I open them, Garrett’s chest is now in front of me.
I look up to meet his eyes, and my body floods with a needful ache. The usual sparkle in his soulful, friendly eyes is gone, replaced with a fierceness. I gasp.
“Say it again.”
Teasing, pretending I don’t know what he means, is out of the question.
“You’re mine,” I repeat, matching his intensity. That’s it. I tumble headfirst into it. Not because I’m too tired to argue. But because I’m too tired to deflect and buy myself time.
The passion in his kiss burns through what’s left of my walls. I don’t know what will happen, other than he is mine and I’m his. This is a good thing that hit us both like a freight train. An adorable cartoon freight train that exploded with rainbow glitter and filled my life with some much-needed chaos.
Garrett backs me against the wall of the shower stall, claiming me with deep, hungry kisses. I have no energy left for a fuck. Yet, my body keeps responding to the ever-lengthening urgency pressing against my lower abdomen. I reach down and grip his cock in my hands, its thickness further calling out to my sex. Garrett growls with frustration into my mouth and mutters, “Hold on to my shoulders, shorty.”
I’m too tired to question what he’s thinking of doing, but I still cry out in surprise when he hikes up my legs and wraps me around him. “Better,” he growls, finding my center with his cock.
I’ve never been fucked in the shower before, I realize. Funny how a four-year relationship with a man who has sexual hang-ups made me think that I was the one with the problems. I thought I didn’t need someone to pleasure me with his mouth. I thought I was weird for wanting to have sex with the lights on once in a while. I thought he was just too tired, and I was too demanding.
Now, in Garrett’s arms, his thick length filling me up, I realize it was all backward. I don’t need a rebound guy; I need to be shown a real man.
My arms gripping his shoulders for dear life and my thighs clamped around his hips, I wonder for a minute when he’s going to get around to the fucking. But he’s just holding me, propping me up, kissing me, nesting inside of me.
“And you’re mine,” he says. Finally, he begins a slow rhythm of his hips, his big hands gripping my bottom. I smile, and then my face goes slack at the sensations overwhelming my body.
“I am,” I say.
I’m already drowning in all the feelings when I sense one of his hands moving down between us to find my clit. I dig my nails into his shoulders.
“Good?”
I squeak out a barely audible “good.” It’s preposterous to say that word. “Good” doesn’t cut it. Fucking fantastic. A marvel of human achievement that he can hold me up for this long.
The truth is, he can�
�t. He has to slide the hand that’s on my backside toward the middle of my ass for leverage.
And his finger is right there.
I open my eyes when I feel his grip so close to that split.
Garrett’s brows knit together as he drives into me, strums my clit, and clenches my ass.
He’s asking with his eyes.
I nod, then seal my consent with a kiss. “Do it.”
There are a lot of firsts with Garrett, both in and out of the bedroom. If you would have told me four days ago that by Sunday, the man who made me forget my heartbreak would be filling me everywhere, I’d have said that’s entirely insane. Undoubtedly a result of poor judgment.
But there’s no more room for judgment with this man’s tongue down my throat, his cock splitting me in half, his fingers filling my ass, and my body falling to pieces like a rag doll.
Nobody has ever loved my body this much. Nobody has ever been this invested in and focused on my satisfaction. Garrett is so into it—into me—I’m already spent by the time my orgasm smashes me to pieces.
I’ve nearly forgotten our chat earlier about not needing a condom, and I’m reminded when I feel his seed filling me up. The warm contact is so perfect, I might never go back. He grunts and growls through his release, his fingers digging deeper, shooting more waves of shattering pleasure through me.
“Baby,” he says, shutting off the water.
I think he’s going to set me down, but he doesn’t. He stays buried in me, pulling me away from the wall and wrapping me up in his arms. “Baby,” he repeats.
Yes, I think. That’s how you make babies. And maybe I’d be okay with that. It’s a good thing I’m still on the pill, because, at this moment, my brain is so foggy I’m ready to have a dozen babies with this man.
That’s not brain fog, says my conscience. That’s evolution deciding that the world needs more little Garretts running around this world.
I sigh. “Well, doesn’t it?”
“Huh?” Garrett chuckles as he squeezes the water out of my hair with a towel, then wraps me up with a separate dry one.
“Nothing. Gibberish. I’m so tired, I think I’m already talking in my sleep.”
Moments later, the two of us are wrapped around each other in my bed. The full-size isn’t the greatest, and Garrett’s legs indeed do hang off the edge. I should tell him his legs will cramp up if he insists on cuddling in this small bed, but I’m so tired I can’t keep my eyes open, let alone form words. He seems content enough to stay, and truth be told, I wouldn’t want him to leave. If he does cramp up, I’ll just have to massage him later. The idea of that makes me smile sleepily as the beautiful darkness sweeps me off to dreamland.
With me nestled against his chest, I feel him kissing the top of my damp head. “I love you, sweet Eliza.”
I mumble as I snuggle in closer, drifting off. “I love you, Garth Buddha.”
I wake to the sound of my mother making a disgusted noise.
My eyes fly open to see Karen standing at the end of my bed, hands on her hips.
“I can guess what you two were doing when Mom was having a stroke.”
Garrett’s first order of business is to make sure I’m covered with the blankets before I sit up to confront my mother.
“Ma’am, I know what this looks like.”
I have to cut Garrett off. “Mom, it’s exactly what it looks like. Garrett and I are together, and it’s very new. And since when do you barge into someone’s bedroom like this? And for your information, Grams was playing Bunco with her friends because she has every right to play Bunco with her friends. I was hoping you and Grams had a good talk, but evidently not.”
“As a matter of fact, we did talk. And now she’s in surgery, so get yourself together and get to the hospital.”
“What? The nurse was supposed to call us!” I say. “How long were we asleep?”
Mom scoffs. “I told them I would fetch you. Long enough, it looks like.”
She has no right to judge me. I’m an adult. “You left Grams alone at the hospital?”
“To find you!”
I feel my anger rising in my chest. “You could have called!”
Garrett places a gentle hand on my shoulder, and I feel my blood pressure settling.
“I wanted to see for myself what my mother’s living situation was. I can see that this is not livable, not with the two of you acting so selfishly you can’t be bothered to know what’s going on.”
Calmly, I simply shake my head. She’s unbelievable. I’d forgotten, for someone who’s a successful orthopedist and ostensibly full of knowledge, how irrational and illogical she can be.
I look over at Garrett, and he sees immediately what needs to happen.
“Ma’am, we’ll talk about this at the hospital while we wait for her to get out of surgery. Now, if you don’t mind, we’d like to get dressed and meet you there.”
How is it possible I love this man more and more every minute?
Chapter Twenty
Garrett
The mood in the waiting room outside of surgery is tense, to say the least.
Armed with her planner, Eliza stays focused on tasks, ignoring her mother’s suspicious looks that she keeps casting my way.
“I’m going tell Grams she needs to push back her jam orders because there’s no way it’s happening now,” Eliza declares, her eyes trained on the month on the page in front of her.
“What jam orders?” Karen cuts in.
Not looking up, Eliza replies, “Grams has a jams, jellies, and preserves business. Well, and baking, I should think.”
Karen clucks. “What are you talking about? Since when did my mother become an entrepreneur?”
At this, Eliza meets her mother’s eyes. “If you would talk to her more than once a month, you might know. You do know that she has been making and selling her jams for her entire life.”
Karen sighs. “Yes, she has her little gardening hobby, which I’ve been telling her is too much strain on her at her age. She should retire and go to an assisted living facility where she won’t have to deal with any of that.”
This suggestion makes Eliza sit straight up, and I can feel the instant indignance pouring off her. I place my hand on her back, though I know she’s about to go three rounds. “She loves gardening and making jam and baking. I’m helping her organize it and become more efficient. And Garrett and I have been helping her make jam, too!”
“No wonder she had a stroke. You’ve been putting all this pressure on her,” Karen argues.
“That’s not fair,” I say. “Betty’s just doing what makes her happy.”
Karen points at me. “No. You are not involved in this conversation.”
Eliza shoots me a warning look, which I ignore. “With all due respect, ma’am, I’ve been Betty’s neighbor for several years now. I can tell you unequivocally, the happiest I’ve seen Betty was when she got the news that Eliza was coming to visit. She’s been thrilled to have her granddaughter involved in her business, and Eliza has gotten her excited about all kinds of ideas.”
Eliza’s mother leans forward and squints at me like she’s assessing an idiot. “Do you know how preposterous it is for an 80-year-old woman to start a new business? How much stress that can cause?”
I hold up my hands. “Ma’am, my own grandmother suffered a long, slow decline as a result of dementia at the too-young age of 65. So look at it this way, Betty might someday—not today—but someday, yes, she might die of a stroke. But forgive me for believing that maybe until then, a hobby might help her stave off dementia.”
She scoffs. “Oh, I see. You have the answers to dementia. Have you called the newspaper? They’ll want to interview you.”
Eliza mutters, “We don’t have a newspaper here, Mom. It’s placemats.”
Karen pinches the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know what that means, and I don’t want to know what that means. Eliza, all I know is that you’ve been duped. This man is some kind of charlatan; I kno
w it. Nothing about this sits well with me at all. I’ve already called Sunset Towers, and they have a beautiful place already in place for your Grams.”
“Mom!”
She holds up her hands. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but it’s for the best. She can’t take care of herself anymore, and having long-term guests is too much strain on her. And you putting ideas into her head is making it all worse.”
Eliza stands up. “How long have you been planning this Sunset Towers move?”
“What do you mean?”
“No way they have something ready for her as of today.”
Karen cocks her head. “I’m on the board of directors.”
Eliza raises her voice, and I place my hand on her back. But I’ll be damned if I try to shush her. “You should not be making those decisions behind her back.”
I interject. “And as I’m her power of attorney and Eliza is the executor of her estate, I don’t think you have any choice in the matter. She’s not going to agree to it, and if she wasn’t of sound mind, it’s not something I would agree to unless Eliza agrees. I know Eliza has her best interests at heart.”
The look Karen gives me is pure ice and disdain. “Well, I don’t know why you’re so concerned about it. If you’ve managed to weasel your way into her life so thoroughly, that’s not going to change by moving her into a facility. You’ll still be in her will. Unfortunately, I can’t contest that until after my poor mother is gone. Anyway, I’ve already paid in advance for the apartment.”
“Who’s going to drive her to the doctor? Take her on outings? She’s going to miss bowling and gardening!” Eliza asks.
I can’t take this argument happening while the woman isn’t even out of surgery. “Have you spoken to her about this?” I ask.
Karen shrugs. “Not yet.”
I nod my head and smile, then shoot a grin at Eliza.
“What are you two smirking about?”
Eliza keeps her eyes on me, and I can feel her fire calming to a tiny ember. “Nothing, Mom. I just figured you ought to know by now that Grams isn’t going to go without a fight.”
