Xavier's Loving Arms, page 13
“More like they’re snooping.”
He laughed softly. “Take care, Becca. I’ll be in touch.”
She tilted her face up, hoping for another one of his amazing kisses, but his lips only grazed her forehead. He gave her one last smoldering stare she felt all the way into the pit of her stomach, and her forehead tingled from his touch.
His innocent peck burned like a brand; one she wouldn’t mind feeling all over her body.
Chapter Thirteen
By the time Becca got home, the sky was nearly pitch-black, only lit by a few stars. Luckily, her car had started with no problem. But to be safe, Gabby followed her home.
She waved farewell to her friend and inhaled the taste of salt from the water of the bay. If it had been warmer and not so dark, she would have taken a stroll down to the pier or perhaps to the playground where she liked to sit on a swing and watch the boats sail by.
The wind whipped around her and she rubbed her arms while walking up her front steps. She was surprised to find a basket spilling over with white lilies sharing space with a small white teddy bear wearing a red Santa hat in front of the door. Dev? Or Xavier? She grabbed the wicker handle, scooped her mail from the box, and unlocked the door. Not much warmer inside, brrr. She threw her coat over the banister and hurried to the couch where she drew her blue Snuggie around her.
The note stuck to the basket read merely, I’m sorry, Dev.
“Oh, why can’t you just quit?” She put the beautiful and expensive bouquet on the table in front of her and crumpled the card in her hand. It would be a shame to throw out such an exquisite display, but if she kept them, he’d have won again.
She grabbed her phone out of her purse and turned it back on. She’d switched it off before her interview and forgotten about it. She also pulled out a few holiday scratch offs. Waiting for her phone to power up, she flipped through her mail, not seeing anything of interest, until she spotted an envelope from the bank with the words Foreclosure Notice printed in big, red letters across the front. A slight burn in her chest amplified and her stomach soured with the threat of her dinner coming up. Swallowing deeply and breathing through her nose, she listened to her voice messages.
“Hello, Miss Price, it’s a little past five on Monday, November twenty-ninth. Your grandmother had a fall this afternoon and sprained her ankle and bruised her hip. Please call us at your earliest convenience…”
“Oh no!” She dialed the facility. A voice came on the line and she asked for her grandmother’s doctor, trying to remain calm. She was connected to a nurse who explained what had happened. By the end of the call, she sat hunched over her knees, ready to throw up. Her grandmother had twisted her ankle and hit her head when she fell while trying to get into the shower without the help of an aide. She’d been sent to the emergency room and would remain there for observation until morning. They had left a total of three messages for her, but since they couldn’t get in touch with her about how to proceed, the doctor had made the decision himself. And since visiting hours at the hospital were over, she’d have to wait until tomorrow morning.
After she finished the call, she stared at nothing. For once, her entire body went numb and not even her nausea and then need to vomit troubled her. Emptiness filled her, profound guilt for having fun while her grandmother suffered, in pain, with no one there for her.
A glutton for punishment, she opened the letter from the bank. What she read made her want to roll into a ball and die.
She wished she knew what she might have done in a past life to deserve such heartache. For one small moment, she’d experienced true happiness. Yet, even with a promising job and a good man interested in her, everything had come crashing down on her head. It would never get better.
She lay down on the couch and threw her blanket over her head. She remained there late into the night, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep and never wake up.
***
“Come on pick up, Becca,” Xavier mumbled for what had to be the hundredth time in three days. He left yet another message on her voice mail, more than worried since she hadn’t called him back all week.
He fingered the comedy show tickets he’d picked up yesterday, calling Becca the moment he got them. She hadn’t returned that or any of the other messages he’d left over the past few days. And now it was three in the afternoon on Friday and mere hours away from their date.
Something wasn’t right. He could feel it deep in his gut and he couldn’t sit around and wait for her to come to him. He’d have to go to her—if he could find her. With that decided, he shut down his computer and threw files into his briefcase. He had a shitload of work to do, but Becca came first.
He darted out of his office, bypassing cubicles as he made his way to the front door. He was texting his uncle, telling him he’d be leaving for the day, when Caitlyn walked out of the bathroom and collided with him.
He grabbed her arm to steady her. “Forgive me.”
“Early day?” she asked, standing in his path.
“You could say that. Something came up and I need to go.”
Concern crossed her face. “I hope everything is okay. Nothing’s wrong with your father? Has he been feeling under the weather?”
“Dad’s just suffering from his annual winter cold. He’s resting at home and should be back to normal by Monday.” He pulled her off to the side. No one gave them any notice, except for Suzy, who at that exact moment glanced up at him. He quickly looked away.
“Maybe you can help me with something.”
“I would be more than happy to help you in any way I can.” She stroked his arm, her voice lowering a notch.
“Becca and I had plans for tonight and I can’t reach her. I hope she isn’t avoiding me because she doesn’t want to see me any longer. I have a bad feeling something’s wrong.”
“You’re going out with Becca?”
“Yes. We’re dating. We made plans to go out tonight, but she hasn’t returned any of my calls. Has something happened I should be aware of?”
She moved her hand away. Her arms hung limply against her sides and he wondered at how sad she suddenly looked.
“Caitlyn—”
“Calm down. Becca and I don’t talk all that often. I’d suggest you call Devdan to ask, but they had a fight and aren’t talking.”
“I’m not going to call him.” He tried keeping his frustration at bay.
“Lately Becca’s been distracted and quiet. I think it has to do with her money problems, the possibility of losing her house, and her sick grandmother.”
“She may lose her house?” he asked, his voice rising.
She pulled him up to the front, near a corner. “Devdan’s going to kill me,” she mumbled under her breath. “You didn’t hear any of this from me, but there’s a good chance her house may be foreclosed on in the next few weeks. She lives in one of those old mansions on Morrow Avenue near the bay.
“Her grandmother bought the place back when Becca was in middle school, and she and her dad moved in with her. I heard her grandmother had plans to convert it into a bed-and-breakfast, but then got sick. Since Becca’s father died, and her grandmother was committed to a nursing home for her dementia, Becca has been the one responsible for paying the mortgage and taxes on the house. Devdan has told her she should sell it, but she refuses to. She can barely keep up with her bills. Plus, her grandmother continues to worsen. Maybe something happened with her this week?”
“Becca told me her grandmother has been sick, and that she has some money issues, but she hasn’t gone into great detail about any of it.” His chest stung as he thought of her dealing with this all alone.
“She likes to keep things to herself and refuses to take help from anyone, not even Dev, who wants to give her everything he can.” Caitlyn moved in closer and lowered her voice. “I would proceed with extreme caution around him. He’s very territorial when it comes to her. You’re going to have a fight on your hands. He doesn’t like to lose.”
“Are you giving me advice or a warning?”
Her lips lifted. “Both.”
“I’m a big boy. I can manage Devdan.” He gave her a quick smile. “Thanks for telling me this.”
“I haven’t told you all of it. People may call me a gossip, but there are some things better left to hear straight from the source.”
He didn’t have time to think about her vague comment. “I’ll be forever in your debt if you could give me one last piece of information about Becca.”
“And what would that be, Mr. Marks?”
“Her address. I’m hoping if I show up at her house, she’ll talk to me.”
She snorted. “Don’t be surprised if she doesn’t answer the door. If she doesn’t want to see you, she won’t. I’ll do one better and give you the address of her grandmother’s home, too. If she’s not at work or her house, she’ll be there.”
“Thank you so much, Cait. You don’t know what this means to me.”
“I think I do.” She went over to the reception desk where she wrote on a notepad. “Maybe one day I’ll be lucky like Becca and have two wonderful men care so deeply for me.”
He didn’t respond while waiting for her to finish writing. If and when he talked to Becca again, he would try his best to be the only man she ran to for help from now on.
***
The windows in Doctor Ratcliff’s office rattled in the wind. Snow stuck to glass frosted from the storm that had started less than an hour before. Becca, still bundled in her peacoat, scarf, and hat, was chilled to the bone. But then again, she’d been that way since she first heard of her grandmother’s fall four days ago.
While the doctor read over the documents in Grams’ folder, she fiddled with a stray thread dangling from one of her coat buttons.
“Your grandmother is growing worse. She’s become more agitated and depressed, not eating and losing too much weight. I would recommend she have a personal nurse with her around the clock, but—”
“That costs too much money.” She rotated her head, trying to loosen the kinks in her shoulders. Her back was a knotted mess and the headache behind her eyes pounded against her skull even after she swallowed too many Advil to count.
“Yes, one-on-one care can be expensive. Have you talked with any of our advisors about your grandmother’s finances?”
“I talked with someone yesterday.” She sat forward in her chair. “Grams should have enough to keep her here in your care for another decade, but if she needs a personal nurse, it will eat into her savings. I don’t have enough to supplement that.”
Doctor Ratcliff came around and leaned against his desk. She gazed up at the older man who had been her grandmother’s physician for twenty years.
“The best advice I can give is to keep her comfortable. It may come down to a feeding tube if she continues to refuse to eat. Her fall came as a complete surprise because she usually sits in a chair near her window or lies in bed.”
“She’s given up her will to live.” She dabbed under her tear-filled eyes and grabbed a tissue from the box Ratcliff offered her.
“Patients like your grandmother with an aggressive form of dementia do go through deep depression. These are all very familiar signs.”
“That makes me rest easier. Thanks a lot.” She snorted and stared out the window at the snow falling down in rain-like sheets.
“Watching a loved one suffer is difficult.” The doctor coughed and adjusted his tie. “I knew Ava before she became my patient. Quite the firecracker, your grandmother. When I come in and check up on her, we talk about your grandfather and your father. She brings you up sometimes.” He grabbed both her hands and gave them a tight squeeze. “We’re doing all we can to make sure she is treated well. Maybe that’s all we can ask for now.”
“What happens next?” she asked, wiping her nose. She wanted to go home and hide under the covers.
“We continue to watch over her, and if she continues to deteriorate, then you have to make some hard decisions. I mentioned keeping your grandmother medicated. We could go that route. She should be fine if she gets enough rest and isn’t too excitable. Also, the nursing staff will check her during the night to make certain she doesn’t go for any more walks.”
She breathed through her nose. “I feel like I’m not doing enough to help her.” What if I’m not there when she dies?
“You’re not going to want to hear this, but your grandmother has lived a long, fulfilling life. She wouldn’t want you to give up yours. You can’t beat yourself up in case something unfortunate does happen to her. She wouldn’t want you to. And for all we know, she could live another twenty years. Can you go through the stress for another two decades, waiting for a call from us, expecting bad news?”
Twenty years as a lifeless and brainless vegetable? She bit her lip to keep from blurting that thought out and got up from her chair.
“Thank you, Doctor. I’ll take what you’ve said into consideration.” She checked her watch and couldn’t believe it was four. With the sun already setting and the snowstorm, it felt more like eight at night. “I better leave before the weather gets worse.”
“If you have any other questions or concerns, please call me. You have my cell number, right?”
“Sure do.”
“Please don’t stress yourself out too much. I don’t like those dark shadows under your eyes and how pale your face has become.” Ratcliff gave her a body a quick scan. “And you’re swimming in your coat. Please tell me you’re making sure to eat. You can’t afford to lose any more weight, young lady.”
Easier said than done, Doc. “I’m going home right now to eat some dinner then go to bed.”
“Good.” Ratcliff followed her to the door. “It won’t help matters if you become ill also.”
“Yes, Doctor,” she replied automatically, a million and one thoughts running through her head. Fear settled low in her stomach.
“Get home safely. I heard this storm may accumulate over a foot of snow by tomorrow.” Ratcliff shook his finger at her.
“Will do. Good night.” She waved and walked down the hall.
She stopped in to check on Grams, who slept under heavy sedatives. Blankets covered the frail woman, and when Becca kissed her cheek, her skin felt tissue soft. Her lips trembled, and she backed away, watching a moment longer from the doorway.
As she hurried out of the building, a gust of wind flew up her coat. She wrapped her arms around herself and hurried to her car. More snow fell and stuck to her face.
She rubbed her hands together, cursing under her breath for not remembering her gloves. She unlocked the door and scrambled into the driver’s seat, praying the old sedan would start. When she turned the key, the car gave a noisy lurch and then nothing.
“Motherfucker!” she screamed and banged her fist on the cold steering wheel then dropped her head on it. Warm tears fell down her face.
A knock on the window made her jump. Her chest clenched at the welcome sight of Xavier staring through the frosty window, concern etched on his features. She wiped her face, and instead of rolling down her window, she opened the door and climbed out.
“How did you find me?” The snow flew around, blinding her.
“Does it matter?” Xavier wiped her cheeks with his leather-gloved hands, and she fell into his arms.
She sobbed against his coat while he held her tightly. She couldn’t make out a word he said as the wind grew to a piercing whistle. For the first time in days, she was finally warm, even standing in a snowstorm, in the arms of a man she never wanted to let go.
Chapter Fourteen
The windshield wipers squeaked, moving back and forth across the glass, pushing away the icy slush. Becca remained silent, sniffing every so often.
He parked the car in front of the Chinese restaurant then took her face in his hands. A wheeze escaped her, and he rubbed his thumbs near the corners of her lips.
“Becca—”
She crushed her mouth against his. When her top lip fell over his own and sucked, he increased the intensity of the kiss. Their combined moans filled the car. The power of the kiss changed and he gave her slower, more drawn-out caresses. He smiled at her soft whimper and grasping hands in his hair. A groan escaped him when one of her hands landed high on his thigh and his dick rose in his pants.
“We should stop before we’re snowed in and someone has to dig us out,” he said against her lips.
She whispered his name and touched his chin. “I love kissing you.”
“Same here.” He nipped her mouth, ready to give her a kiss that would make her cry out—
A loud croaking filled the car, and Becca moved back, covering her mouth.
“S’rry,” she mumbled through her fingers. “My stomach’s acting up.”
“We need to get you fed.” He held back a chuckle and opened his door. “I’ll be a minute.” Running into the Chinese take-out place, he paid, grabbed the brown paper bag, and strode back to the car.
She grabbed the bag from him and swiped away the snowflakes from his coat. “The temperature must have fallen by fifteen degrees. It’s pretty bad out there.” He shifted into drive and checked the mirrors before pulling out into the street.
“Why does it seem the first snowfall of the season always is?” She traced a drop of condensation on her window.
“If this doesn’t let up, it’s going to be quite a mess by tomorrow morning.”
“If you come for dinner, you may have to spend the night.”
Let’s hope that happens. “It’s up to you. I can drop you off at home with the food and go home. Or I can stay for dinner together and take the chance I may have to sleep over.”
She laughed. “We can camp out together on my couch in front of the fireplace and make s’mores.”
“I would say yes to the s’mores, but we’d have to stop and get the supplies to make them.”
“I have ice pops at home that could make up for the s’mores,” she offered.
