Holding On (Hooking Up) (8 page)

“What’s courageous?” he asked somberly.

“It means brave.”

“Oh. I’m brave.”

“Sure are. Can I continue, Your Highness?”

“Yep.”

“Ok. So, he was so brave he challenged a dragon. He was walking in the woods one day and he came upon this huge fire-breathing dragon who roared, ‘Who goes there?’ Prince Benjie said, ‘It is I, Prince Benjie, and I command you to leave this forest.’”

“Why did he want the dragon to leave?”

“Well, the dragon breathed fire, didn’t he? What would happen if he caught the trees on fire?”

“Oh. Ok.”

“So, the dragon says, ‘I don’t want to leave. Where would I go?’ and the prince says, ‘How should I know? Just go so you don’t set my forest on fire.’”

“I feel bad for the dragon. He shouldn’t have to leave his home,” Benjie said in a quivering voice. I was mortified when he began to cry.

“Benjie, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“My mommy tried to make me leave home when she wanted me to move to New York. I’m glad I didn’t have to go. I would have been sad without you and Daddy. Catie, don’t ever leave me, ok?”

I hugged him and kissed his little tear-stained cheeks.

“Benjie, I’ll never leave you, ok?”

“Promise?”

“I promise. You’re my man, my own little guy. Don’t you know how special you are to me? I love you, buddy.”

“Love you, too, Catie.”

“So, let me finish the story. The prince thought a moment and said, ‘Dragon, let’s make a deal. Can you cook?’ The dragon nodded, and the prince, who was very kind and smart as well as courageous, said, ‘My cook just left and I have no one to heat up the oven to make my favorite pizza. Can you do that for me?’ The dragon said, ‘Sure I can! Thank you!’ and the prince let the dragon move in. They had pizza every night and became the best of friends. The end.”

I glanced down at my stepson, but he was sound asleep. I tucked the covers around his little chin and kissed the top of his head. I rose from Benjie’s bedside and turned to leave the room. Ryan was leaning against the doorframe.

“Nice story, honey.”

“Yeah, well, it didn’t turn out quite like I planned, but sometimes you have to improvise.”

“Catie, thank you for loving him.”

“How could I not? He’s part of you.”

“Come here.” It was a request, a seductive one, and I obeyed instantly. I stepped into his embrace and tipped my face to his to receive a smoldering kiss.

He scooped me up and carried me to our bedroom where he proceeded to ravish me senseless. The heat, the absolute flash of it as he entered me was enough to knock the breath out of me and reduce me to a quivering heap. His mouth did amazing things to my body, coaxing me, tormenting me, driving me insane with the sheer mastery of it.

And when it was over, he pressed soft kisses to my neck and sighed, a masculine sigh that said he was one hundred percent satisfied. It was gratifying.

“So, how did your day go with your mom?” he asked after we settled into the covers for the night.

“It was wonderful. Thanks so much for your help.”

“My pleasure, sweetie. She seems great.”

“She is great. I’m so happy. I can’t believe I have a real family at last. I never thought in a million years it would happen. She’s everything Gran isn’t.”

He chuckled. “No bullet-proof armor required?”

“Nope. I’m so glad she’s here. I have it all now. I have you and Benjie, Isamu and Mom. I have a real family. And if I never talk to Gran again, well, at least I have you all. It’s ok.”

“It is?” The question was a serious one, and I smiled at the concern I heard in his voice. I knew what he meant but I’d been thinking about it all day.

“Yeah, it really is.”

“Well, good. But get some sleep, will you? I have to be at work at seven, and all this happiness is keeping me awake.” He pulled me close and snuggled us deeper into the covers.

I grinned and closed my eyes. Happiness. I could get used to that.

Chapter 8

It was hard to concentrate on work over the next week, but duty called. Little Roger Madigan had decided again he wanted to be a stuntman when he grew up, and to practice, he jumped his skateboard down two flights of stairs. Turns out, he wasn’t such a good daredevil; his right leg, his left arm, and two ribs had been broken. He was a regular at Dr. Ross’s pediatric physical therapy office, and I greeted him warmly when he was wheeled into my treatment room, freshly freed from his latest casts. His parents, resigned by now at his antics, gave me a wry smile and settled in to watch us work. We went through some basic flexibility and strengthening exercises, most of which he was already familiar with from his other sports- and daredevil-related activities, and his session went smoothly.

I did an initial evaluation of Parker Crampton, a new patient whose legs had been broken in a car accident eight weeks prior, and adjusted the padding and fit of the new prosthesis for little Ashley Thompson, a girl whose 3
^rd
degree burn had necessitated the amputation of her right arm. I bantered and joked with my little patients, but my mind was only half on the tasks at hand. I was preoccupied, to say the least, and longed to be with my mother.

I felt like we had to make up for lost time, and wanted to spend every waking minute with her. I loved the way she put her arm around me and squeezed me when I arrived at her house to visit, the way she laughed at my really bad jokes and praised me constantly. I loved how she’d begun cooking for me, sharing with me all the old family recipes she’d collected over the years. I relished those first tastes of home.

If Ryan felt slighted in any way by my absence from our apartment, he said nothing, silently giving me the room I needed to pursue a relationship with my newfound family.

Benjie, however, sulked a little. It seemed as though he took my statement that I’d never leave him to mean I’d never be away from home. Ever. He started whining whenever I left to go spend time with my mom and it ripped my heart to pieces. I would never choose between them, or abandon Benjie the way his own mother was quick to do, but he didn’t know that.

So to spend time with both of them while Ryan was at work, I took Benjie and my mother to the zoo.

Benjie loved it. He raced around and mimicked the sounds the animals made. He laughed at the yawning hippos and roared like the lions who stalked back and forth in their habitats. He hollered at the goats that bleated at him in the petting zoo and demanded three hot dogs (at four bucks apiece) at the concession stand, then only ate one.

He grabbed my hand and pulled me to the dolphin tank, watching in awe as they swam in lightning-fast laps in front of him. He giggled with my mom over the funny faces the monkeys made and tugged her in the direction of the gift shop, insisting he just had to have a stuffed turtle, like the big tortoise that had smiled at him from his mound of dirt. He ran us ragged in the hot, mid-summer sun.

Benjie bellowed that he wanted to see the snake house, so we hooked right and made for the snakes. I had been talking to Mom about what she wanted to do after the zoo, but she didn’t answer. I looked back at her and was surprised to see that she had fallen behind and her face was oddly flushed and fatigued. Benjie backtracked and made circles around her. She smiled feebly but faltered and almost fell over.

“Mom!” I exclaimed, rushing to her side and catching her. I boosted her upright and walked her over to the benches in front of the snake building.

“Are you ok?” I asked, running my hand up and down her back.

“I’m fine. It’s just the heat,” she insisted. “It’s very warm out today, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, pretty warm. Do you want to leave?”

“No, I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute, would you?” Now that the flush had fled her face, it appeared waxy, almost white. I was worried.

“Grammy, what’s the matter?” Benjie’s little face was scrunched up in worry.

“Nothing, sweetie. I’m just hot. Here, I feel fine now. Let’s go.” She rose and held her hand out to Benjie. “Come here, handsome. Snakes scare me. I need you to protect me.”

Benjie giggled and said, “Ok. Come on, Grammy. I’ll save you.”

We oohed and aahed over the boa constrictors, the rattlesnake whose rattle we heard even through the thick glass walls of its cage and recoiled in terror as the cobra showed us his hood and charged at us from behind the glass. But to my anxious eyes, Mom still looked ill, so I cut our day at the zoo short.

I dropped her off and said, “If you need anything, you’ll call me, right?”

“Of course I will, sweetheart. Quit worrying about me.”

“Sorry. Can’t help it. Love you, Mom.”

“Love you, Catie. Tell Ryan I said hello, ok?”

“Ok. G’night.”

I watched her shut her door and escorted my rambunctious stepson home. He was still wound up from our day and he chattered nonstop.

“Why’s Grammy sick?” he asked me, bouncing in his seat.

“She’s not sick. She just got hot.”

“Oh. But she threw up the other day.”

“She did?”

“Uh-huh. When she came to dinner,” he said, chewing the gum we got for him from the gumball machine at the zoo. He had been most impressed by it because it was shaped like animals. He wanted the elephant because it was biggest, but had to settle for the bear and the bird because I ran out of quarters.

“Maybe it’s my cooking,” I teased him, winking at him in the rear-view mirror.

“Your cooking’s mostly good, Catie. But I don’t like the broccoli. It’s not really baby trees, you know. Maybe Grammy doesn’t like broccoli either.” Benjie eyed me soberly, and I had to stifle a laugh.

“Maybe. Or sometimes people get indigestion,” I suggested.

“What’s ‘gestion?”

“It’s when people get upset bellies,” I explained.

“Oh,” he said somberly. “Catie, I got ‘gestion.”

“Yeah?” I smiled secretly. He had eaten one hot dog, two candied apples, a pretzel, a candy bar and a soda at the zoo. It was no wonder.

“Uh-huh,” he confirmed angelically.

“Well, let’s get you home.”

He nodded. By the time I pulled into the parking lot, he was fast asleep, his grimy little face perfectly innocent, as well as slightly sticky. I loaded Benjie into my arms, piled the stuffed turtle on top of him and slung my purse onto my shoulder. I staggered a little under my load but boosted Benjie up better and headed toward the stairs. Ryan must have been waiting for us, because he came to my rescue at the bottom.

“Here, I’ll take him,” he offered. I handed Benjie off to Ryan and we walked side-by-side up the stairs toward home.

I collapsed on the sofa when we got inside. “Your son is an animal,” I told Ryan, groaning wearily.

He carried Benjie to his room and emerged, kid-less, a minute later. “He fit right in at the zoo, then, huh?”

“You have no idea. You’re lucky I’m faster than he is. He would have been past the railing and inside the tiger habitat if I had been five seconds slower. My feet are killing me, but it was worth it, because he had a blast. He’s so funny.”

“That he is. Did you have a good time with your mom?” He asked, dropping to the floor in front of me and removing my shoes. He rubbed my feet slowly and I moaned in relief.

“That feels awesome. Thanks. Yeah, we had a great time. But I don’t think she can handle the heat.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, dropping a kiss on the arch of my right foot. He started rubbing my left foot and my eyes drifted closed.

“Well, she acted like she was going to pass out, and she commented on how warm it was.”

“She grew up in Florida. You’d think heat would be no problem,” he murmured.

“Huh. I forgot about that. You’re right. Weird. Anyway, she seemed better when I dropped her off, but Benjie said she got sick the other day.”

“Maybe she has a stomach bug or something.”

“You’re probably right,” I conceded, sighing in ecstasy as his hands worked magic on my sore feet.

“So, how are you feeling?”

“Fine, why?”

“Benjie woke up for a minute in there and said you had ‘gestion. I asked him what that was, and he said you got sick the other morning, too, just like Grammy.”

“Oh, no, that was just some bad Chinese food I had at lunch the day before. The Kung Pao smelled off. Or maybe it’s a stomach bug that got both of us.”

“I see. You’re all better now, though, right?”

“Yeah, just a bit worn out. Why?” I asked, popping one eye open and taking in his sexy, teasing grin.

“Because, I want to wear you out some more.”

“
Oh.”

“Yeah.”
With a smug smile, he scooped me up and carried me to our bedroom.

Chapter 9

Ok, so it probably
was
a stomach bug and not the Kung Pao, after all. I threw up again Monday morning, and felt like I had been dunked in tepid water and wrung out to dry. Yuck.

Ryan came into the bathroom just as I finished bringing my breakfast up for another look, and he said, “Are you ok?”

“Can’t. Talk. Right. Now. Busy. Puking,” I informed him between dry heaves. “Ugh. Gross.”

“I’ll say. Are you done?”

“I think so.”

“Go back to bed. I’ll get Benjie to school.”

“But I have to work,” I moaned, rather pitifully.

“I’m sure your patients will think it’s cool that you’re throwing up all over them, but their parents might not approve.”

“Fine. Help me to bed.”

He did, and I groaned into the pillow as he left. I felt terrible. And suddenly very aware of something that had eluded me before: I was late.

I counted and frowned, counted again and said, “Holy crap.”

Ryan popped his head in and said, “What? Are you going to be sick again?”

“Geez, you scared me!” I scolded, jumping a little. “What are you doing, spying on me?”

“No, but I was worried. You’re sick.”

“No, I don’t think I am. I think I’m pregnant.”

“What?” Ryan yelped, the color draining from his face. For a minute, he looked like
he
was going to throw up. I was mildly amused, and majorly surprised and shocked.