Neevah
“This must bethe worst food I’ve ever tasted,” I complain, pushing the tasteless cabbage and cauliflower around on my plate. Even the salmon, which I usually enjoy, has little flavor.
Dr. Okafor said a renal diet avoids foods with too much sodium, phosphorus, and potassium. Blueberries, apples, pineapple, cranberries—all my new best friends.
“Eat,” Canon says, from the small table he’s set up in the corner, not lifting his gaze from his computer.
“If they gave me food instead of cardboard, I would.”
He shoots a wry look over the edge of his laptop. “It’s not that bad.”
“Oh.” I lift a forkful of the bland morsels. “Then come see for yourself.”
He rolls his eyes, but walks over to the bed and leans forward, mouth open. I shove the fork inside and watch his face closely. He grimaces before catching himself and humming approvingly. “Delicious.”
“Liar.”
He grins and bends down to kiss my lips lightly. I reach up and grip his neck, holding him, kissing him deeper. I’m in no shape for anything more, but just the closeness, the intimacy of his tongue exploring my mouth, gives me something to look forward to.
“I love you,” he whispers into our kiss.
“I love you back. You’ve been so good to me, Canon.”
“You can thank me later.” He catches my eyes, wicked humor lurking beneath the surface of his smile. “I think a week’s worth of blow jobs should suffice.”
“Only a week?”
“I’m easy to please.”
“The whole world, especially your cast and crew, would disagree.”
“Shiiiit. If they know what’s good—”
Someone clears their throat at the door, and Canon and I both turn to see who’s there.
“Mama?” My voice emerges strangled and disbelieving and hopeful.
She looks exhausted and slightly disheveled, her dress wrinkled and her eyes weary, but she’s here. Tears immediately leak over my cheeks, and Mama comes over, reaching down to me in the bed to hug me. I grip her neck and run my hands over her shoulders, not sure she’s real. With our faces pressed together, the tears mingle on our cheeks, and I can’t even find the words to ask how she’s here.
“Mama . . .” I touch her face and laugh. “You don’t fly.”
“I finally did,” she says, smiling over at Canon. “Thanks to Mr. Holt here.”
Fresh tears clog my throat at his thoughtfulness. So many times I’ve needed her and she wasn’t there, and this time she is. Canon made sure of that.
“Thank you,” I say tearfully, taking and squeezing his hand.
He drops a kiss at my temple.
“Mama, you actually got on a plane for me. I can’t believe it.”
“Well, Canon got me a private jet, so how could I refuse?”
“Galaxy’s,” Canon answers my querying look. “They flew her in. I thought it might be a little easier.”
“I’m spoiled now.” Mama laughs, but it fades, and she looks over her shoulder at the door. “There’s something you should know. I didn’t come alone. I—”
“I’m here,” Terry says from the door.