My eyes get a little misty as my mother puts an arm around Tate’s waist and he puts his around her shoulders, drawing her close.
She may not remember this moment ten minutes from now but it’s one I don’t think I’ll ever forget.
Chapter 9
Tate
The scene at the nursing home spiraled out of my control. I picked up the guitar because it’s what I do, and the next thing I knew, the residents were making requests. It was fun to play songs I grew up listening to, and the residents were great, singing along and clapping like it was a real performance.
The fact that Summer’s mom recognized me added a level of intimacy I hadn’t anticipated, and it was genuinely fun to hang out with her for a few minutes talking music. It was obvious Summer was emotional, and I hope I didn’t overstep any boundaries by taking up her mother’s rare moment of cognition.
It’s kind of sweet, the way her mom is so excited to meet me. She can barely remember who she is or what year it is but she recognizes a musician from a band that’s only been around about a year.
Summer seems a little emotional too, and I don’t know if it’s because she’s happy to see her mother so happy or something else.
“When is the next album coming out?” Tricia asks me.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “We’ll probably go in the studio next year, but we’re leaving for Europe in September so we’ll see how the songwriting goes.”
“Are you taking Summer with you?”
“Mom, I can’t leave my job,” Summer says quickly. “Or you.”
“Don’t worry about me!” Tricia waves her hand. “That’s why I live here now, right? So there are people to take care of me. You have to go live your life.”
“Stop hogging Tate,” an older man says, coming over to join us. “Can I get a picture, Tate? My grandson will get a kick out of it.”
That starts a snowball effect and all the other residents want pictures too, so by the time we do and then Summer helps her mother go lie down, it’s another hour before we can escape. Everyone is effusive in their thanks and makes me promise to come back, so I’m feeling both good and bad as we’re heading out to the parking lot.
“I’m sorry,” I say as soon as we’re in the Mustang. “I had no idea they’d recognize me. I just picked up the guitar and started playing oldies. I didn’t think?—”
“Oh, don’t apologize,” she says, waving a hand. “It was amazing. And my Mom—she hasn’t been that aware of her surroundings in months. I’m flabbergasted that she knows who you are.”
I grin. “Yeah, me too. I didn’t think our music was popular in the nursing home circuit. Maybe that’ll be our next tour.”
We chuckle.
“Well, I guess we’re going back to the grocery store because while I’m sure the eggs and butter are fine, the milk is definitely no good after ninety minutes in this heat.”
I grimace. “Sorry about that—I forgot I promised to come out and turn on the car.”
“You were busy.”
“I hope I didn’t embarrass you,” I say after a moment.
“Why would you embarrass me?” she asks in confusion. “You’re handsome, talented, and were incredibly sweet and patient with my mom and everyone else. What’s embarrassing about that?”
“I dunno.” I’m quiet for a beat. “The tattoos and long hair… it’s a turn-off for a lot of people.” Like my parents.
I haven’t told her about them though.
“It’s not a turn-off for me.” She leans across the seat and presses her lips to my cheek. “And you were incredible with my mom. I should be thanking you.”
Our eyes meet and the magnetism between us ratches up a notch.
How can I want her this badly after how much sex we had yesterday? And early this morning. Her box of condoms is almost empty.
“I just hope I didn’t steal precious time with your mom away from you,” I say after a moment.
