make this.”
She’s beaming so wide, my chest swells with pride for her. She’s come such a long way since we first met last summer.
“You found yourself a sous-chef, I see.” My father doesn’t smile, but I can feel his approval in his words.
“I guess I have.” I nudge Maggie, who smiles up at me playfully. She obviously doesn’t believe the term belongs to her, but I think I’m with my dad on this one. She’s been more a partner to me than I’ve ever had in the kitchen.
My dad continues to look through the photos, and Maggie continues to tell him who cooked each meal in them and the event each meal was cooked for. They have their own little conversation going, and I’m happy to stand back and watch my dad engage with someone besides the hospital staff, police, or his aides at the rehab clinic.
We stay through his dinner and fill him in on the television show we’re filming with Five-Star Faye. And while my dad gives expressionless nods, he’s hanging on every word. He even starts to fill Maggie in on stories of his own experience with cooking. We would probably stay longer, but Kari peeks her head in to check his vitals again. His last two blood pressure readings had dropped slightly, but not enough to take him out of the high-risk zone.
“All right, you two. We should give this handsome man some rest. I still don’t like where his levels are at, but they should improve with some sleep.” She narrows her gaze at my father, and he hands me back my tablet.
“Keep it,” I tell him, placing the tablet on the tray next to his dinner. “I’ll be back to get it in the morning.”
Maggie squeezes my hand. “I’ll step outside so you can say goodnight.” Then she leans into my father and places a kiss on his cheek. “Good night, Mr. Blake. It was fun talking with you.”
He looks at her, eyes big and bright, and then he nods. “You too, Maggie.”
When she walks out of the room, my dad pushes his tray away and looks up at me with a knowing gaze. “You’re in trouble, son.” And then for the first time that I can remember in years, he smiles.
36
Southern Roots
Maggie
The smile on Desmond’s face when he steps out of his father’s hospital room is contagious. There’s something lighter about him than when I arrived. Knowing that his father will be okay surely had a positive effect on his emotions, but there’s something else behind those beautiful blue eyes. He has a peacefulness that I’ve never seen in him before. The Desmond I met months ago was as wound up as a rubber-band ball. It didn’t take much to make him snap. I like this version of him. The version that is at peace with his life and his father’s condition. Even if it’s just for the moment.
He takes my hand and leads me out the front door of the hospital then steers me to a car I assume is his rental. Just one glance at it makes me laugh. It’s a tiny red Chevrolet. “How do you fit in this thing?”
He opens my door and chuckles. “I don’t, not well.”
My amused gaze catches his over my shoulder as I slide into my seat.
“What?” he asks defensively. “I was in a rush, and it was after midnight when I got in. I wasn’t going to argue.”
I shrug, still pinching back a smile. “I’m just excited to see you try to squeeze in. That’s all.”
He smirks as he backs away from the door. “That’s what she said.” Then he slams the door and starts to strut around the car like he’s some kind of comeback king. He opens the driver’s door, still smirking, and sinks his wide, tall frame between the seat at the steering wheel.
“You did not just pull a ‘that’s what she said’ joke on me.”
He starts the car, this time with a full grin. “I did, actually.” Then he leans in until his lips are less than an inch from mine, sending my pulse zooming to life. “Thanks for the setup.”
He presses mouth to mine, letting his kiss linger. It’s like he doesn’t want to move too fast, but he doesn’t seem to want to pull away either. I breathe him in, finally letting the entire day settle over me until I’m at peace too. I’m here. With Desmond. His dad’s okay, and so is he.
I settle back into the