Sam noticed Lou’s jaw seemed to tighten for a second before he let out a deep breath. “Well, what can I get you to eat?”
Deciding he may as well eat breakfast while he was here, he sat. “Egg white omelet with mushrooms and ham.” He saw the large orange juice machine and couldn’t stop himself. “And a large glass of OJ.” He glanced down at Maddy, who was now happily munching on a cracker. “Let’s do some pancakes for Maddy.”
Keeping the grin in place, the man turned for the hinge door that separated the kitchen and the diner. “Be right back.”
The front door dinged again, and Sam turned to see two older men sporting mustaches, wranglers, and boots slip in.
He focused on Maddy and hoped they didn’t recognize him. “Do you like that cracker?” Obviously she did because it had turned to white mush all around her lips.
“Looks like she’s adjusted to you.”
Semi-annoyed, Sam noted his heart rate jumped from just hearing her voice. He looked up at Tiffany. Her blonde hair was piled on her head, and a few wisps hung down beautifully. Her make up was simple—mascara and lip-gloss. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “I thought that was your truck.”
She had already grabbed a napkin, wet it, and leaned over the bar to lightly dab Maddy’s face. “How’s my girl today? Did you go for a stroller ride?” she asked it all in her high-pitched voice.
The center of his chest tightened at the sight of her lean body draped across the counter.
“Have you heard from Roman today?” She pulled back easily, dropping the napkin into the trash.
“Uh.” Focus. Focus, man. “I got a text last night that said he thought he’d be checked out about ten and then they’d head home.”
“Good.” Seemingly satisfied, Tiffany walked around the counter and went to the two men sitting a few seats down. “Jim, Henry—the usual?”
“Hey darling,” one man with a mustache that curled said as he pulled the toothpick out of his mouth. “Sounds good to me.”
The other older man nodded. “You know how we like it.”
Tiffany started to move to the kitchen swivel door. “Okay.”
“How’s your mama holding up?” asked the mustached man.
Hesitating, Tiffany turned back, and Sam noticed tension in the way her eyes creased when she smiled at the men. “Mama’s mama.” She shrugged.
A few minutes later Lou brought all the food out to Sam and Maddy, and Maddy’s appetite did not disappoint. She obviously knew these pancakes and made her ‘uh, uh’ noise to tell Sam to hurry up. After trying to juggle feeding himself and her, he gave up and decided it was easier to fill her tank before filling his own. He grinned down at her and used a wet napkin to keep the syrup from getting all over and making everything sticky.
“It looks like you’re a pro at this.” Tiffany appeared in front of him, holding a pot of coffee in one hand and smiling at Maddy. She laughed as Maddy grabbed for another piece of pancake before she was done with the one in her mouth.
Gingerly, Sam wiped Maddy’s sticky hand and quickly scooped up more pancake and held it up to Maddy’s mouth. “I think she’s trained me more than I’ve trained her.” Flicking his gaze to Tiffany, their eyes locked.
His heart flip-flopped. Nonsensical. That’s what this was. He was seriously nervous as he sat in a diner and talked to a woman. He noticed it wasn’t the kind of panicky nervous he’d been experiencing for the past year. No. This kind of nervous was akin to what he’d felt in junior high school when he’d talked to girls.
He put a few pieces of pancake onto Maddy’s little tray and then turned back to Tiffany. “So have you decided what you’re going to tell the band yet?”
The smile immediately left Tiffany’s face. She shrugged, and Sam noticed the sad look from the night before was back on her face. “I can’t do it. I just can’t leave mama right now.” Her lips went into a stern line.
Sam nodded, and he let out a low whistle. “That’s a tough one.”
She frowned. “But you don’t agree with me?”
He shrugged. “Hey, I like your mama. I do. But you can’t live your life for someone else.”
He remembered when he’d had to make that decision for himself. He still considered it the hardest thing he’d ever done. But he knew that accepting the scholarship from the University of Miami and shutting his father out of his life had been the right choice. He couldn’t have supported them both. He wouldn’t have made it with his drunk dad holding him back. He had known it then, and he still believed it now. If Sam were honest, he still felt guilty over it.
“Is it that easy?” she challenged him.
Crossing his arms, he drew in a breath. “I never said it was easy, but your mama is stronger than you think, and she’s proud of you. Plus, if you want to be the best, you have to make sacrifices along the way. You just have to face that.”
Tiffany turned around and put the coffee pot down. When she spun back, he saw daggers in her eyes. “Is that what you did, Sam? Just push to the top no matter what?”
Anger surged inside of him. It felt like she was accusing him of something. “I do what has to be done, and if that means taking a shot, I do it. You’d be a fool not to take this shot.” She should. He hated the way she let her ex-boyfriend have so much influence over her. She was good, and she should do it.
Her eyes smoldered, and she leaned closer. “Of course that’s what you do, and the consequences be damned, right? Like how you took Roman’s wife when you wanted her.”
A jolt of adrenaline pushed him to his feet. She may not have physically touched him, but he felt the sucker punch all the same. He took a deep breath, leveling her with a glare. “At least I’m not afraid to take what I want.”
Her look became even more fierce. “Not afraid to be a jerk!”
Just at that moment, Lou came out of the kitchen and saw them facing off, locking eyes, and looking ready to pounce. He put food down in front of the two old men and moved to them. “What’s going on?”
Tugging his eyes away from Tiffany, Sam looked down at his uneaten food and pulled his wallet out. He threw down a hundred dollar bill and then took the rag Lou had left to clean up Maddy, using it to wipe off all the syrup. “Thank you, Lou, but I have to go. I can see it was a mistake to come here.”
17
Sam sat on Roman’s couch. He looked at his phone. Ten thirty-five. Maddy was down for a nap. Sam had swept and mopped and shined up the kitchen. In fact, when he’d gotten back from the run, he’d immediately put Maddy down for a nap. Then he’d gone through the house and vacuumed. Tiffany’s words stuck with him, filling him with frustration that could only be soothed by movement. So he’d picked up toys and stacked them and vacuumed up a storm. Then he’d dusted, and then he’d scrubbed bathrooms. He’d even talked himself through this whole ordeal with Tiffany, thinking he might not need a shrink anymore because he pretty much knew exactly what she would say about it all. But he wasn’t going to tell the shrink about Tiffany because she meant NOTHING. There. Done. It was behind him. He was leaving for Miami soon. He’d already purchased his ticket and would be leaving that afternoon.
What was he doing, anyway? Sitting around playing house. No, he did not play house. He was cold. Aloof. A womanizer. A jerk, as Tiffany had put it.
How had he gotten tied into this? To her. To her stupid music career—that she obviously didn’t really want. She couldn’t become all that she was capable of by hiding in her room and laying down tracks. She had to get out there. Do something!
But could she see that? No! Could she see that he was actually helping her? No!
Even with all the exertion of cleaning the house and getting up early and putting Maddy down for a nap—which included holding her and dancing and swaying and singing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” twenty times—he wasn’t tired. Not at all.