Chapter 100: The Great Chef
The ride to Joan’s house was quiet, my mother dozing against Dad’s shoulder in the backseat while I sat up front beside the driver. Despite my exhaustion, I couldn’t help noticing how naturally Dad supported my mother, his arm gentle but secure around her shoulders, his expression tender as he watched her sleep.
When we arrived, Andrew helped my mother upstairs to her bedroom while I followed slowly behind, my pregnant body making the climb more challenging than I cared to admit.
As Andrew settled my mother on the bed, adjusting pillows behind her back with practiced ease, I found myself wondering about their life before—before the gambling, before the abandonment. Had they always been this in tune with each other?
"I’ll go get your medications," Andrew said, pressing a kiss to my mother’s forehead. "You rest."
My mother caught his hand. "Stay," she pleaded softly. "Just a little longer."
I stepped forward. "I can get the medications," I offered. "You stay with Mom, Dad." The word came easier the second time, and the gratitude in Andrew’s eyes was worth the momentary awkwardness.
"Are you sure?" he asked. "I don’t mind."
I shook my head. "It’s fine. I need to move around a bit anyway. The twins get restless if I sit too long."
"Thank you, Diane," my mother said, her eyes warm with understanding.
As I turned to go, Andrew added, "I was thinking I might make some lunch for us all. Would that be alright?"
The hesitancy in his voice...this powerful businessman seeking permission to cook in what was technically not even my house...touched something in me. "That would be nice," I said. "There’s not much in Joan’s fridge, though."