Page 117 of The Love Playbook

“No.” I press a kiss to his chest, then sit up with a groan.

Standing, I head to my closet and tug on an old cotton robe, one I left here when I moved to the dorms, and motion toward the door. “Be right back.”

“Let me know if she wants to go downstairs, and I’ll carry her down.”

I shake my head with a little laugh. “Chris, you’re not a human elevator. You can’t just carry my mother up and down the stairs every time she needs it.”

“You’re right, because I won’t always be here but while I am, I can, and I will,” he says in a way that leaves little room for argument. “And on that note,” he sits up, “while you check on her, how about I make myself useful and order us some breakfast.”

I have other ways you can make yourself useful.

Biting my lower lip, I offer him a nod, then turn toward my mother’s room, thinking this must be what cloud nine feels like.

Chapter 28

CHARLOTTE

Nearly twelve hours later, one grocery run, two take-out pizzas, and hours of playing cards, Chris helps me put the finishing touches on my mother’s makeshift bedroom in the den. Everything except my twin bed is pushed against the perimeter of the room, and though it might not be perfect, it’s functional and will make life a lot easier until her knee heals.

“I can’t believe my mother sat there and played cards with us all afternoon,” I say with a shake of the head. I can’t even remember the last time we played a game together, so when Chris suggested it shortly after lunch, I thought for sure she’d shut him down.

Imagine my shock when she not only said yes but actually seemed excited by the idea. Then again, it’s Chris we’re talking about. I’m not sure there’s a female in a thousand-mile radiusimmune to his charms, and in the short amount of time he’s been here, he seems to have wrapped my mother around one of his very talented fingers.

“Do you think we can move this end table beside the bed for a nightstand?” I ask, and no sooner than the words leave my mouth does Chis lift the end table above his head and place it beside the bed.

“Show off,” I mutter.

“What good are muscles, baby, if you don’t put them to work.” Chris winks, flexing a bicep while I laugh, a blush creeping into my cheeks at the thought of how those muscles felt when he was hovering above me, flexing and bunching beneath my palms.

Pushing back my thoughts, I begin to strip the sheets from the bed, rolling them into a ball and handing them to Chris who is sporting a dopey grin. “What?” I ask as I start dressing it with fresh linens.

“I was just thinking I might want to keep these.” He raises the ball of pink cotton. “You know, to commemorate the best day of my life.”

I roll my eyes, chucking a pillow at him he catches with ease. “You’re such a man.”

With a laugh, he closes the gap between us and places the pillow at the head of the bed while I adjust the comforter. “You sure you want to stay here this week?” he asks, watching me.

“It’s only one week,” I say with a sigh. “And this way, I can make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid. If I go back to school tonight, or even in the morning, all I’ll do is worry about her. Commuting for one week won’t kill me.”

He reaches out and pulls me to him while his hands slide up my arms. “And you’re sure you’re okay sleeping on the couch?”

“It’ll be easier,” I say, which is the truth. What I don’t say is the thought of staying in my parents’ old bed gives me hives.

“Well, as much as I wish I could convince you to come back with me, I understand. I hate leaving you without a car, though.”

“I’ll use hers. Seriously,” I add when he gives me a skeptical look. “I’ll be fine.”

“Just remember everything we talked about,” he says, his tone firm. “We’ve arranged for more groceries and meds to be delivered, and once you’re gone next week, your neighbor will take her to therapy. No need to worry, right?”

“Right.” As long as I can convince my mother to go back to therapy in the first place.

“And in the meantime, I’m going to talk to my cousin April.”

“The physical therapist?” He mentioned her this morning when we were talking about how to help my mother.

“I’m sure she’d be more than happy to help you with some weekly sessions at home once your mom is ready.”

“Are you sure? That’s a lot to ask, and?”