“A man with a plan. I like it.”
We slip inside the cream-colored leather interior that smells so deliciously of his cologne, I almost moan.
“This is me letting you into a new piece of my life.” He smiles sadly at me.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes. I promise I’ll have you home in time for supper.”
“Yes.”
We drive for forty minutes and cross the bridge into New Jersey. I don’t ask where we’re going—not because I’m not curious. I don’t ask because I trust him, and I want him to know that.
“What band is this?” I ask.
A CD has been playing softly in the background. It’s atmospheric rock, and I like the mood it creates—one that’s achingly tender and deep, yet filled with possibility.
“It’s a band I like called Broken Bells.” Sterling looks straight ahead, watching the highway, and I can’t help but feel his thoughts are far away.
Finally, we exit and make a handful of turns. I don’t recognize the area, and still have no idea what kind of adventure we’re in store for. When Sterling slows the car and pulls over on the street in front of a building whose sign reads Westbrook Assisted Living Facility, my heart drops.
Everything springs to rushing clarity. It’s like opening your eyes after being underwater. This—whatever this is, whoever lives here—this is an important part of his life. And he’s choosing to share it with me.
He turns off the car, and the quiet intensity of the moment engulfs us. My hand pauses halfway to the door handle, and when I see that he’s just staring straight ahead, I drop it to my lap.
My heart pounds as the significance of this moment sinks in. “Sterling . . .”
Finally, he licks his lips and turns to me. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”
I glance at the building again, then back at him. “Are you worried you’re going to scare me off, or that I can’t handle whatever is in there?”
“Something like that. Just having second thoughts about this.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I assure him and take his hand, giving it an encouraging squeeze.
“Okay. Let’s do this.” His expression is determined.
“Care to tell me what it is we’re doing here first?” I attempt a smile.
“Right.” He chuckles, opening his car door. “Come on. I’ll explain everything.”
On the walk into the building, he tells me that his mom has early-onset dementia. He tells me about his dad leaving, and that some days are better than others for his mother. He tells me that when he gets his inheritance money, the first thing he’s doing is moving her into a nicer place closer to home. My heart is melting by the time we sign in at the front desk.
Finally, we’re directed to room 302.
Everyone here seems to know Sterling; he’s a regular fixture here. From the man sweeping the floor, to the nurses, to the director—they all know Sterling. And to them, he’s not the handsome and successful attorney who’s been in the news lately. He’s just a devoted son who loves his mother.
Sterling pauses at the entrance to her door and turns to me, his face somber. “Maybe I should have told her you were coming. Shit, maybe I should have told her I was coming.” He rubs the back of his neck.
I shift my weight, unable to think of what to say in this moment.
“Never mind. It’ll be fine. Come on.”
We step inside a dimly lit room. A woman with long silver hair sits in a rocking chair in the corner, reading a book. The room itself is tiny; there’s just enough room for a twin-sized bed, a dresser, and the chair she’s seated in. A narrow window covered in a dusty drape looks out onto the parking lot below.
“Sterling!” She beams when she sees him. She rises to her feet, and we meet her in the center of the room.
“Mum, this is Camryn Palmer. Camryn, this is my mum, Gillian.”
“Pleased to meet you.” I reach out and take her small hand in mine.
“I’m charmed, darling.” She releases my hand and looks to her son. “What’s the occasion?”
He shrugs. “No occasion. I just thought I’d take my two best girls out for ice cream.”
Gillian breaks into a happy smile as if this man, her little boy who now towers over her, is her whole world. “Brilliant. Let me get my purse.”
We set off, heading to an old-fashioned ice cream shop around the corner. After ordering, we slide into a booth. Sterling sits beside me, and his mom across from us.
It’s actually pretty adorable watching Sterling with his mom.
I love that he’s sharing a piece of himself that he previously held back. I’ve tried to deny it all these weeks, but I know now I’m falling hard for him.
Last weekend spun out of control. I never meant to let things go that far, but when the most gorgeous man you’ve ever laid eyes on wants to pleasure you—you don’t say no. And it was amazing. Most guys don’t know what they’re doing down there, like a vagina is some foreign hostile territory they have to get in and get out of as quickly as possible. Sterling was the opposite. I sensed he actually enjoyed giving me that pleasure, and would have done it for hours if I’d let him. A ripple of heat pulses through me at the thought.
After last weekend, I made a conscious decision not to have sex with him. That’s something I can’t let happen. I can’t give myself to him completely without knowing where he’s headed—especially since that might be down the aisle with someone else in a matter of months.