Not Broken: The Happily Ever After(26)

A soft knock at the door was followed by Mom popping her head into the room.

“Dinner’s ready.”

Shawn carefully climbed down off the bed, knocking Legos off in the process.

“Nana, see,” he said, proudly holding up his creation of three blocks stacked together.

She bent down to pick him up. “Aw, good job, my smart boy.”

I eased off the bed, and followed behind them. I was so grateful that the soreness was no longer as intense. If I moved the wrong way, I’d still got a sharp pain, but for the most part I was well enough to go home in the next day or two. Down the hall, and through the living room, I joined my parents in their large, open-concept kitchen.

“How you feeling, babygirl?” Dad pulled out my chair. He gave my shoulders a squeeze and kissed the top of my head.

Lasagna. The meal Mom reserved for “special occasions.” Three adults, yet four plates were on the table. I stared at her back as she buckled Shawn into his high chair.

“Better. I’m thinking we’ll head home tomorrow.”

“Nonsense,” he retorted. “You two should stay a while longer.”

“Us or Shawn?” I asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

He laughed, and picked up his glass of sweet tea.

“Mom, are we expecting a guest?”

No sooner than the question was asked did the doorbell ring. She smiled then went to answer. When I heard Mal’s voice, I knew exactly what she’d done.

“Always meddling.”

Dad chuckled in response. “You know your mother.”

Mal walked in laughing at something Mom had said. Dad stood to greet him, and Shawn started squirming in his chair from excitement. What was it about that man that had my entire family on his side? Not that they knew there were sides to be had, but still. After he said his hello to Shawn, Mal looked over at me. I knew I needed to stand or say something, but I didn’t.

Instead, I took in the sight of him. His dreads were actually hanging free instead of being pulled back like normal. They’d grown and now hung past his broad shoulders. The dark blue Guess T-shirt was loose fitting but tight enough to hint at a well-toned physique. The light-wash jeans were a relaxed fit, and I couldn’t help but notice how nicely he filled them out from the back side. Mal walked over to where I sat, and when he leaned to kiss the top of my head, the smell of his cologne surrounded me. It wasn’t an artificial smell. No, it was clean, crisp, and undeniably male. Did he always smell that good?

His fingers ran across the now-fading bruise on my cheek, his touch left behind an acute awareness on my skin. “How you feeling?”

I looked up and smiled. “Better. Still sore in some places, but—” I turned to look at Dad, “—going home soon.”

Dad’s eyes widened, and he threw his hands up in surprise. “Why was that directed at me?”

“Because you’re trying to hold me hostage,” I teased.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better. Dinner looks great, Sandy,” Malcolm commented as he took his seat across from me. “I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in a while.”

“That is a shame. Calida has become a better cook, so she can keep you well fed.”

“What? Why am I responsible for cooking for him? He’s a grown man fully capable of cooking if he wanted.”

“Well, dear, if he’s anything like your father, you don’t want him in the kitchen.”

Dad and Mal laughed. I was stuck in the twilight zone, and missing the cosmic joke of my life. Most of dinner I spent trying my best to keep my focus on Shawn and ignoring the man sitting across from me. After dinner, I attempted to help Mom clean up, but she shooed me away. She said I had company to entertain. I wanted to retort that she invited him so she should do the entertaining, but I bit my tongue and headed into the family room where the guys were.

Dad and Mal were on the floor with Shawn playing with cars.

“Care to join us?” Mal asked when he saw me.

“No.” I shook my head. “Can I borrow you for a moment?”

“Sure.” He ruffled Shawn’s hair before walking over to me. “What’s up?”

“Take me for ice cream.”

“Okay.”

Music came blaring out of the speakers when Mal started his truck.

“How do you listen to that crap, and so loud?”

“It’s not crap,” he retorted, turning the volume down. “You need to have a better appreciation for Kendrick Lamar.”

“Do I?”

“Yes.” He gave me his signature boyish grin before cranking the volume back up.

The bass of his stereo system vibrated through the truck making my chest feel strange. How was he not deaf? The stereo in his Land Rover rivaled that of any night club or maybe it was because of the concentrated space it felt so much louder. I had to laugh when he started rattling off the lyrics of the song, words I couldn’t even understand. His head bopped along to the beat in perfect rhythm as he seat-danced for the duration of the ten-minute drive to Bruster’s.

“I choose the music on the way home,” I said when he turned the car off.

“You know you enjoyed the show,” he replied with a wink.

We got our ice cream then headed over toward one of the benches.

“You have a sweet tooth?” he asked before taking a lick of his chocolate.