Once in a Lifetime(74)

She was in his kitchen, unloading a bag of groceries. She had a carton of eggs in one hand and a gallon of orange juice in her other as she looked up and caught sight of him. “Hey, baby.”

There were flowers in a bouquet on his table. “You brought me flowers?” he asked inanely.

“No. They were on your doorstep. I just brought them in. There’s a note,” Dee added. “It’s sealed, or I’d have totally sneaked a peek. Although I can guess.”

Ben could, too, but he didn’t want to go there. “You going to the senior center today?” he asked Dee.

“Yes. It’s bingo lunch.”

“Take the flowers with you.”

She gave him an assessing look. “Okay. Did you want to go get dressed and eat, or would you rather kick my butt for intruding?”

“I’m still trying to decide.”

She smiled. “Go on. Find some clothes. I’ll be done here by the time you’re back.”

“Done with what?” he asked.

“Breakfast, silly.”

“Breakfast,” he repeated, stunned into stupidity by heartache and lack of sleep.



“Yes.” She beamed at him. “Remember all those mornings you got up at the crack of dawn to come make me breakfast after my chemo? Well, I’m returning the favor.”

He didn’t want breakfast. He wanted…Aubrey. He wanted her sated and boneless in his bed, with one of those smiles on her face that was just for him, as though he were the best thing she’d ever seen.

At the thought, emotion swamped him. He told himself it was all anger, because she’d ruined it. She’d ruined everything. But the truth was, it felt more like sadness and regret than anger.

Dee’s smile faded, and she set down the orange juice and eggs and came to him, wrapping her arms around him. “Rough morning?” she asked quietly.

He shrugged.

Just as he’d done for her all those mornings when she’d been sick and exhausted and scared and hurting, she didn’t ask a bunch of questions. She accepted that some days were just shit. “You look like hell,” she murmured.

He let out a low laugh. “Thanks.” He went to his room to yank on a pair of jeans and then came back to the kitchen.

“Sit.” Dee gestured to a chair with her wooden spoon. “You’ll eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Did I ask you if you were hungry? No, I did not.” Again she pointed to the chair and when he didn’t budge, she shoved him.

“Bully,” he said without heat, and let the five-foot-two woman push him down to the chair.

She smiled and patted his shoulder. “I learned from the best, you know.”

“I wasn’t this mean,” he said.

“Oh, please,” she said on a laugh and affected his low baritone as she imitated what he’d said to her whenever she’d resisted him. “You will sit there and shut up and eat, Aunt Dee, and if you don’t, I’ll force it down your throat.”

“I didn’t say it like that,” he said, but surprised them both by laughing.

She smiled. “Aw, that’s better. You probably want to know why I’m here.”

“You’re here because you’re nosy.”

“Yes, well, there’s that.” She came over with a loaded plate and the juice. She set them both down in front of him and hugged him.

“Again?” he asked.

“Hug me back or I’ll keep at it.”

Because she looked so worried, he let her boss him around. He hugged her back, letting her hold on for as long as she wanted, which was about a year. “I’m getting gray hair here,” he finally said.

She pulled back and smacked him upside the head. Then she cupped his face and stared into his eyes. “I’m here because I got the mom feeling that something is wrong. Is it hard being back here?” she asked quietly. “In Lucky Harbor? With us? Is that it? You’re going to leave again?”

“No. And it’s not hard being back. I like being back,” he said, no longer surprised to find that it was absolutely true. He might have started out a true city boy, but he’d also been a lost one, without people who cared. And then he’d landed here in Lucky Harbor, where everyone cared. He liked that—a lot. The place fit him; it always had. “I’m not leaving,” he promised.

“Is it Hannah?” she whispered. “The memories of her?”

“No,” he said, and when she just kept looking at him, he said, “I miss her. I’ll always miss her. But it’s not her.”

“Then it’s Aubrey,” Dee said. “Damn. I told you that one was going to be trouble.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Dee paused, still hovering. “Can I just say one thing?”

“Could a freight train stop you?”

She smiled and cupped his face once more. “It was lovely to see you putting yourself out there again. I hope that whatever happened between you two doesn’t change that.”

He gave her a look. “You’re fishing.”

“Yes.” She paused, and when he didn’t fill in the silence, she sighed good-naturedly. “I love you, baby. You know that, right?”