MacGyver and fix a broken table with rubber bands, paper clips, and chewing gum; solve any audio-visual problem their equipment could throw at them; make fifty tablecloths work in a room with a hundred tables; and never let on to the client or the rest of the staff that there’d been a problem to begin with.
“She’s perfect for me.” When he realized he’d spoken aloud, he glanced at Ma, but she hadn’t budged. He’d become too accustomed to talking to himself from living alone for so long.
He collected the popcorn bowls and coffee mugs and took them to the kitchenette—one counter along the far wall of the sitting room—to wash. He wished he could find a way to let Meredith know he cared for her, that he’d like nothing better than to be with her forever, but that right now he couldn’t.
“Why can’t I just bring myself to be honest with her?” He looked over his shoulder to make sure neither the sound of the water nor his voice had awakened his mother. He was starting to get a little concerned—she wasn’t usually a deep sleeper like this.
Because if Meredith got wind of the truth—the truth that Major had been concealing his mother and her condition from everyone in his life ever since he returned to Bonneterre eight years ago—she’d never want to talk to him again. And who’d blame her? He deserved to be censured for the shame and resentment he’d allowed to fester in his heart. How would Meredith ever be able to trust him fully?
His watch beeped. Football playoff game started in forty-five minutes. He tidied up the rest of the small apartment. His gut wrenched with what he was about to do. Because his mother had been asleep so long, and because a different movie had come on, he could take his leave without having to make up an excuse—she wouldn’t know how long he’d been here.
He almost made up his mind to stay, to salve his conscience. But he had laundry to do tonight, and he had to be at work at five tomorrow morning to cook breakfast for a meeting for some company or another located in Boudreaux Tower.
Promising himself he’d make it up to Ma another Sunday, he leaned over her chair and shook her shoulder.
Her eyes popped open immediately. “You leaving?”
“Yeah. I’ve got a bunch of stuff I need to do at home tonight, and then it’s an early day tomorrow.” He kissed her forehead. “You be good, and when they come in here and tell you to turn off John Wayne, don’t make a fuss, okay? You have all these movies on DVD and can watch them anytime.”
“I know. I promise, I’ll be a good little crazy person.”
“I’m counting on you. I don’t want to get a call in the middle of the night saying you’ve whacked out on them again. Even if it is fun to scare ‘that Nick kid.’”
She laughed, a rusty, rattling sound he didn’t hear often enough. “Okay. I tell you what. I’ll turn it off at the end of this movie. And I won’t raise a fuss.”
“Thank you. Love you.”
“I know.”
He kissed her forehead again. “Good night.”
Ma patted the top of his head. “G’night, yourself.”
Major’s smile faded as soon as he turned his back. How could he just walk out on his mother like this?
“Oh, son?”
He turned around, the fake smile straining every muscle in his face. “Yes, Ma?”
“So who’s this Meredith you’ve been muttering about, and when do I get to meet her?”
Chapter 12
“Is she in?” Major paused at Corie’s desk Thursday afternoon and nodded toward Meredith’s partially closed door.
“Her client meeting ran late, so she isn’t back yet. You can go in and put that in the fridge if you want.”
“Thanks.” Major carried the takeaway box into the office. She’d obviously straightened up yesterday for her meeting with Mrs. Warner after the tasting—making the room feel oddly devoid of any indication it belonged to Meredith ... with the exception of the soft jazz music permeating the space. The ornate decor bespoke Mairee’s taste, not Meredith’s.
He stowed the Styrofoam box in the mini-fridge hidden in the credenza, then sat at her desk to leave a note. He went through four green sticky notes before he finally had something he didn’t feel embarrassed for her to read:
Looking around the office once more, he tried to imagine what it would look like if Meredith had been responsible for decorating it. When arranging events—from the table layout to centerpieces to color schemes—her design skills never failed to impress him. He was curious to see her house once she finished; it was bound to practically ooze with her personality.
He shook himself out of his reverie. If he was going to make it to Forbes’s office on time, he needed to get out of here. He waved at Meredith’s assistant on the way past.
When he got to the end of the hall, he paused. Leaning casually on the high counter of the reception desk stood Ward Breaux.
The receptionist hung up her phone. “I’m sorry. Apparently Miss Guidry is out of the office right now. Did you have an appointment?”
“Not today, no. I was in the building for another meeting and thought I’d stop by.”
“Is there any message—?”
The front door swung open, and Meredith breezed in, drawing everyone’s attention. She stopped when she spotted the dark-haired man. “Ward. What are you doing here?”
Molten heat roiled in Major’s stomach at the way the contractor’s face lit up when he looked at Meredith. Major forced the jealousy aside.
The giant enveloped Meredith’s right hand in both of his. He gave the same song and dance about being in the building for another meeting, which Meredith bought hook, line, and sinker.
The flush that bloomed in her cheeks filled Major with dread. She glanced away and looked right at Major. He tried to smile at her, unsure if he succeeded by the slight crease that formed between her brows. She pulled her hand free and motioned Major over.
“Major, you remember Ward Breaux.”
Major grudgingly shook hands with the guy.
“The chef, right?” Breaux asked. “Good to see you again.”
“Same here.”
Meredith glanced at the contractor. “I wasn’t really expecting to see you again before tomorrow night.”
Tomorrow ...
“I thought maybe, if you have time this evening, you might let me follow you over to your house so that I can get a better idea of what you’re wanting to do with it.” Ward grinned at Meredith as if Major weren’t standing right there. “And then maybe we could bump up our date to tonight.”
“I ... uh...” Meredith, looking more embarrassed than ever, cut her gaze toward Major—then turned and really looked at him. “Major, I thought you were meeting with Forbes this afternoon to talk about ... that business thing.”
The duty of keeping his appointment warred with the desire to stay right here and demand to know what Ward Breaux’s intentions toward Meredith were. Duty won. “I put your dinner in the fridge in your office.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze on the way past. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
