Penthouse Prince(17)
“Thank you, Corrigan,” he says with an appreciative tone. “I’ll pay you for your time, I promise.”
“We’ll discuss it later. Go help your mom.”
With a flourish, he snatches his car keys off the kitchen counter, presses a quick kiss to the top of his daughter’s head, and bolts for the door, rattling off a string of thank-yous as he leaves.
Once again, Lexington Dane has run off on me. At least this time, it doesn’t feel like it’s for good.
But instead of leaving me heartbroken and confused like he did when we were a couple, he’s left me in an unfamiliar house with his single most prized possession—his daughter. Who, by the way, is super not happy about his grand exit.
“Daaddy!” Grier’s face scrunches up as a shriek loud enough to make a siren jealous pours out of her, her little hands reaching desperately toward the door her dad just disappeared through.
Crap.
I suck in a much-needed deep breath. Okay, Corrigan. If you can deal with twenty-five first graders for five years, you can manage a toddler for an hour.
And regardless of age, I can think of one foolproof way to dry the tears of any little kid. Or any adult, for that matter. Ice cream. I guess my first date with little Grier is going to be the same as my first date with her daddy.
Crouching down to Grier’s level, I offer her a smile. I’m not sure if she’ll let me pick her up, but when I wipe the tears from her soft cheeks with my thumb, she quiets a little.
“Do you like ice cream?”
Grier nods, her lower lip still trembling as she sniffs back her tears.
“Well, your dad will be home in a little while, and I was thinking we should get some ice cream while we wait for him. What do you think?”
If there are any house rules about sugar intake, I don’t know about them yet. Granted, we didn’t exactly have time for a full rundown on house rules before Lexington sped off to take care of his mom. But still, ignorance is bliss, and bliss is a big scoop of cookies and cream.
So I pull Grier into my arms, giving her a little tickle under her arm, which helps her giggle the tears away. That’s better.
We’ll get our shoes on and be eating spoonfuls of ice cream by the beach in no time. But I hardly make it two steps toward the door before Grier lets out another shriek. This one is shorter and more urgent.
“Flapflap!”
It takes me a second to register what she’s talking about, but then she points to the dingy gray bat toy.
“Ah yes, how could I forget?” Hoisting her farther up my hip, I lean down and grab the bat, handing it off to Grier. “Does Flapflap like ice cream?”
She smiles, shaking her head. “No! Eggs!”
“Right, of course. Because all bats eat eggs.”
I stifle a laugh as I head off in search of Grier’s shoes. I guess I’ll be figuring this out as I go.
8
* * *
LEXINGTON
Worry grips me as I ask where to find my mom, then rush to the hospital room at the end of the hallway. When I enter the room, Mom’s sitting up in bed, listening to a doctor.
“—just to make sure,” the doctor is saying, then glances over to me. He looks fiftyish, with more gray than black in his hair, an impressive mustache, and has a strong Southern accent. “Ah, you must be her son. Please make yourself comfortable.” He gestures to the lone chair in the corner of the room opposite Mom’s bed.
I might explode if I have to sit still. “I’ll stand, thanks.” At his tight-lipped expression, I add, “I’ll stay out of the way, I promise. What happened?”
As I move closer, she looks even smaller and paler then last time I saw her, and my heart jumps when I spot a bandage on the back of her head.
He narrows his eyes slightly. “She had a nasty fall. Fainted and hit her head on the way down.”
Fuck. I should have been there. Should have hired more nurses to watch her round the clock, instead of just having Gail come by three times a week. It’s a mistake I’ll have to rectify immediately.
Mom moves her arm in a gesture that I think is supposed to be waving off my anxiety, but her hand only lifts about six inches from the hospital blanket. “It was nothing, sugar. I had my alert bracelet on. As soon as I came to and realized I was bleeding, I called the ambulance. They’re going to fix me up right as rain. I’m perfectly fine.”
“Passing out and cracking your skull open doesn’t sound like nothing to me.” The words come out much harsher than I intend. “And what do you mean, as soon as you realized? If you hadn’t seen blood, would you have just gone on with your business and not called 9-1-1?”
Her doctor nods. “Fortunately, you don’t seem to have a concussion, Mrs. Dane, but your son has a point. Even for a young, healthy person, one has to take head injuries seriously, and in your condition . . . well.” He sucks his teeth loudly. “Anyway, as I was telling her when you came in, her fainting was probably just a side effect of chemotherapy. But on the off chance this is a warning sign that her cancer is progressing faster than expected, I’ve ordered some tests and a consult with her oncologist. Just to rule things out and to find out what we could be facing.”
I force myself to nod and act like a reasonable, civil adult, instead of screaming and breaking everything in the room like I want to do. “I understand. How long do you think it’ll take before the results come back? I’ve got someone watching my daughter.”