“I think I ate too much…” I leave off my last two words—peanut butter—mindful she is very much a don’t-kill-your-friends-by-being-selfish-and-bringing-peanut-butter-sandwiches-to-school parent. She even removed the satay chicken skewers from the pub’s menu upon learning of Mikhail’s allergy. “I’ve been a little gluttonous with my diet today.”
Her laugh warms up my dead, cold heart. “You’ve always been a woman who gorges on her feelings. I’m just grateful you’re eating regularly.”
Someone please give her the Mother of the Year award already. It is long overdue.
“Is there anything you want to talk about?” I smile when she adds with a laugh, “With Aunt Marcelle at the bar, my ears aren’t sure what’s happening. They’re not used to so much silence.”
A million questions race through my head, but I ignore them all and shake my head instead. I don’t know what the hell I’m thinking, so how can I explain it to anyone else?
“I was just calling to see how Wynne’s appointment went.” When a flare of worry darkens my mother’s eyes, I sit up, and my stomach’s gurgles double. “Is something wrong?”
“No, of course not.”
Lies, all lies!
“But the doctor requested some further testing.”
I nod but keep quiet, unsure I can speak without sobbing. My baby sister is my world. I’d lasso the moon for her as eagerly as I would for our mother… and perhaps Mikhail.
Don’t look at me like that. Feelings don’t vanish. They just get buried beneath a heap of ugliness not even the world’s best long-range diver is prepared to wade through to free.
“Did you book the tests today?”
Her solemn headshake reveals the cause of her earlier flare. “They’re very expensive. A clinic two hundred miles away is taking patients without insurance, but they’re booked out for the next three months.”
“Three months?”
She nods, breaking my heart further.
“We’ll rustle up the money. Things seemed… steady at the bar this afternoon when I dropped Aunt Marcelle off for her shift. We might reach our goal by the time they have an appointment available.”
I hate the wordmightas much as I hate the wordmaybe.
They’re both so indecisive.
I shake my head, ridding it of the thoughts of a dark-haired man and his devastatingly roguish blue eyes, before asking, “Ifwe can pull together the money faster, could you secure an appointment closer to home and sooner?”
My mother nods, her ability to talk when she’s on the verge of crying as lackluster as mine. “But I don’t think that’s a possibility. Things are tight.”
“But they don’t have to be.”
I draw in a big breath before straying my eyes to the window of my room. Things quietened quickly after I stuffed my peanut butter–loaded sandwich into my mouth, ensuring it smeared my lips, fingers, and thighs with enough nutty goodness to make Mikhail sweat. The only noise that has been crackling the past three hours is the outdoor fireplace—Mikhail’s favored spot.
“I have a way to come up with some funds quickly. I just need a couple of days to instigate them.”
My clit throbs in anticipation, mistaking my plans. It is as hopelessly devoted to the worthless cause of seducing Mikhail as my heart is.
Honestly, I wouldn’t even care if he didn’t touch me again. I enjoyed sucking his cock so much it was pleasurable even without orgasming. The taste of his velvety warm skin, his unique manly scent, and how the veins feeding his magnificent manhood throbbed harder with every greedy suck has me more than eager for round two.
And don’t get me started on his moans when his cock jerked in my mouth, or how the tingles I’m attempting to douse will never subside.
I swallow to soothe the burn in my throat when my mother reminds me of the seriousness of our phone call. “The earliest appointment I could find isn’t until next week, so you have time.” The eagerness on her face slips away, replaced with worry. “But are you sure this is something you want to do, Emmy?” You’d swear she knows about my agreement with Mikhail.That’s how motherly her statement is. “I don’t want you putting yourself out. You’ve already done so much.”
“It’s fine. I’m happy to help.” My last words are just for me.And what’s the harm?It isn’t like he hasn’t already smashed my heart to pieces.
My mother smiles before she peers at someone over her iPad.
After a brisk nod, she returns her focus to me. “Darling, I have to go. Can I call you later?”
