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Authors: Jessica Bird
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yourself.”
“Yes, but it’s not that bad. The house is paid for and her expenses aren’t that high. Usually.”
He kept his curse to himself. “No offense, but it strikes me that the parent-child thing is ass-backward.”
“But I love my mother. And without me…”
“She’d be forced to grow up?” In the silence that followed, Sean cursed out loud. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to get in your face about this.”
There was another long pause. Then she said, “I don’t tell people this usually, not because I’m ashamed or embarrassed, but because I’m not interested in pity…. My mom’s mentally challenged. She can function independently to a point, but she’s always going to need help. First my father was that for her. Now I am.”
Sean’s eyes widened. “Oh, God…Lizzie, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She smiled. “There is no tragedy here and no shame, either. You know, it’s interesting. My father is much older than my mom and I assume in the beginning he thought that she was just young and eccentric. Like she’d grow out of her ways or something. It wasn’t until I was in my early teens that he took her to doctors and we learned that it was not an issue of maturity. But again, there is no catastrophe here. My mother’s happy and healthy and she’s full of joy. So it’s okay. But can you understand why things between her and I aren’t just a case of a parent dropping the ball?”
“Yeah. Totally.”
The waiter showed up with the check, and without even thinking, Sean took out his wallet.
“How much do I owe?” Lizzie asked.
Sean froze. He’d been about to pay the whole thing and to hell with his Dutch rule.
Get back with the program, he told himself. Stay tight.
Doing some quick division in his head, he said, “Sixty-seven dollars.”
Her eyes flared, but she reached for her purse.
“Let me pay for the wine, though,” he cut in. “I picked it.”
“No, that’s okay. I drank my share.”
As she put three twenties, one five and two ones on the table, he noticed that the edges of her purse were worn through. In a rush, his net worth funneled into his brain, that cool billion dollars or so in stocks and cash and annuities and T-bills and gold.
He reached out to push her money back to her.
“Wow, that’s a beautiful wallet you have.”
He stopped, jarred as his normal mind-set about women returned.
Man, that stuff about Lizzie losing her job had seemed true enough and so had all those blushes and the revelation about her mother. But he got tangled whenever he thought about her relationship with his father. Surely she couldn’t have enjoyed that miserable bastard’s company. So that left Good Samaritan-itis. Or her being after something.
Sean looked into her eyes and mined for the answer to his unspoken question: Was Lizzie Bond different than the women he knew or exactly the same?
After a moment, he found himself slowly moving her money back toward her. “My treat.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” Keeping his titanium American Express card out of sight, he put a crisp hundred-dollar bill and three twenties on top of the table. “Let’s go.”
“Wow, that’s a big tip.”
“They deserve it.”
She smiled at him. Then stood up…only to put her hand on the wall to steady herself. “Oh, this is bad.”
“What?”
“That wine was awfully good and I have no tolerance whatsoever.”
“Lean on me, then.”
As he came around and drew her against him, their bodies fit together so perfectly it momentarily stopped him in his tracks.
“Sean? You ready to go?”
He tightened his hold on her waist. “Yeah.”
He led her through the crowded restaurant, and as he urged her out the door first, he wanted to keep his arm around her. Like for the rest of the night.
When they were outside, she took a couple of
“Yes, but it’s not that bad. The house is paid for and her expenses aren’t that high. Usually.”
He kept his curse to himself. “No offense, but it strikes me that the parent-child thing is ass-backward.”
“But I love my mother. And without me…”
“She’d be forced to grow up?” In the silence that followed, Sean cursed out loud. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to get in your face about this.”
There was another long pause. Then she said, “I don’t tell people this usually, not because I’m ashamed or embarrassed, but because I’m not interested in pity…. My mom’s mentally challenged. She can function independently to a point, but she’s always going to need help. First my father was that for her. Now I am.”
Sean’s eyes widened. “Oh, God…Lizzie, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She smiled. “There is no tragedy here and no shame, either. You know, it’s interesting. My father is much older than my mom and I assume in the beginning he thought that she was just young and eccentric. Like she’d grow out of her ways or something. It wasn’t until I was in my early teens that he took her to doctors and we learned that it was not an issue of maturity. But again, there is no catastrophe here. My mother’s happy and healthy and she’s full of joy. So it’s okay. But can you understand why things between her and I aren’t just a case of a parent dropping the ball?”
“Yeah. Totally.”
The waiter showed up with the check, and without even thinking, Sean took out his wallet.
“How much do I owe?” Lizzie asked.
Sean froze. He’d been about to pay the whole thing and to hell with his Dutch rule.
Get back with the program, he told himself. Stay tight.
Doing some quick division in his head, he said, “Sixty-seven dollars.”
Her eyes flared, but she reached for her purse.
“Let me pay for the wine, though,” he cut in. “I picked it.”
“No, that’s okay. I drank my share.”
As she put three twenties, one five and two ones on the table, he noticed that the edges of her purse were worn through. In a rush, his net worth funneled into his brain, that cool billion dollars or so in stocks and cash and annuities and T-bills and gold.
He reached out to push her money back to her.
“Wow, that’s a beautiful wallet you have.”
He stopped, jarred as his normal mind-set about women returned.
Man, that stuff about Lizzie losing her job had seemed true enough and so had all those blushes and the revelation about her mother. But he got tangled whenever he thought about her relationship with his father. Surely she couldn’t have enjoyed that miserable bastard’s company. So that left Good Samaritan-itis. Or her being after something.
Sean looked into her eyes and mined for the answer to his unspoken question: Was Lizzie Bond different than the women he knew or exactly the same?
After a moment, he found himself slowly moving her money back toward her. “My treat.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” Keeping his titanium American Express card out of sight, he put a crisp hundred-dollar bill and three twenties on top of the table. “Let’s go.”
“Wow, that’s a big tip.”
“They deserve it.”
She smiled at him. Then stood up…only to put her hand on the wall to steady herself. “Oh, this is bad.”
“What?”
“That wine was awfully good and I have no tolerance whatsoever.”
“Lean on me, then.”
As he came around and drew her against him, their bodies fit together so perfectly it momentarily stopped him in his tracks.
“Sean? You ready to go?”
He tightened his hold on her waist. “Yeah.”
He led her through the crowded restaurant, and as he urged her out the door first, he wanted to keep his arm around her. Like for the rest of the night.
When they were outside, she took a couple of
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