Page 21 of Miss Understanding

“It’s what I wear most days.”

“I know, and you look so handsome. Do you want some breakfast?”

“No, thanks. I already ate.” Once again, my mind flipped back to Kendall. But I forced it back to my mom and what we needed to accomplish today.

* * *

By noon I had a raging headache. It was made worse by the fact the funeral couldn’t be held until Thursday. It was only five days away, but I’d hoped for something sooner that would enable me to fly back earlier. Spending almost a week here would be torture.

“Where are you staying?” my sister asked me when I helped her carry the girls out to her SUV to get them loaded up. They’d been troopers today, but it was clear they were ready for their naps by the way they kept rubbing their eyes.

“At a house in town. It’s an Airbnb rental.”

She quirked a brow. “Anything is better than the motels, I suppose. You’re welcome to stay with us. I promise I won’t put you on diaper duty.”

Staying with two kids under the age of four sounded like a fresh hell. “No, thanks. We’re comfortable at the house.”

I realized my mistake as soon as her brows shot up. “We? Did you bring someone with you?”

“Shhh.” I had to shush her before my mother heard. She was standing on the front porch smiling at us. “I had to bring my assistant.”

Allison scoffed. “You dragged your assistant all the way to your hometown from LA? You expect me to buy that?”

“I don’t care what you buy. It’s the truth. I have a deposition in two weeks, and I need her help.”

“Fine. Fine. What’s the address?”

“Why, so you can show up out of the blue? Nope. Not happening.”

She didn’t bother to deny her nosiness. “You got me. Is it at least nice? It isn’t too run-down, is it?”

Considering a lot of the houses in town had seen better days, I didn’t blame her for asking. “It’s fine. Newly remodeled with a fully functioning office. That’s all I care about.”

“Good. So, I guess I’ll meet you at Mom’s house tomorrow, and we’ll go do the headstone thing.”

“Yep.” I’d rather stab myself in the eye with a dull butter knife, but again, my mother had asked me to go. I’d have to find a way to suck it up.

“It’s nice of you to offer to pay for everything.”

“It’s not a problem.” My mother was on a fixed retirement and social security income. And my sister was a stay-at-home mom with two children and a husband who worked hard in middle management. I knew money was tight. The last thing either of them needed was a twelve-thousand-dollar funeral expense. Although I hated the idea of paying for a man who hadn’t given one dime toward child support, I supposed in a way it was the ultimate fuck you.

I’d never been one to take a nap, yet the thought of doing so sounded amazing as I pulled out of my mother’s driveway. Especially with my head still feeling as if it would explode. Deciding I wouldn’t make it through the evening without some sort of alcoholic beverage, I stopped at the liquor store and bought a bottle of bourbon.

Then, because I was feeling so down, I next went by the Food Lion to grab flowers. I was thankful no one had yet recognized me in my small town.

The cemetery was only a couple miles outside of town and completely void of people on this freezing Saturday afternoon. I made my way to the unfamiliar graves of my grandparents and laid the flowers down. The gray sky and chill in the air was reflective of my mood while I paid my respects. I’d been lucky to have them both in my life when my father had left. They’d made sure my mom had kept it together for us kids and had gone out of their way to spend time with me and my sister. They’d both passed away when I was in law school, only months apart. At the time, I hadn’t been able to afford to come home for their funerals. Guilt still gnawed at me for not being there.

Finally, unable to stand the cold any longer, I walked back to the truck and drove the few miles to the Airbnb.

As I walked through the front door of the rental, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but seeing my assistant’s sexy ass hadn’t been on the list of possibilities.

She was bent over getting something out of the stove, shaking it to the beat of whatever pop music was playing on her phone. She’d changed back into those infuriating yoga pants, showing me just how shapely her bottom half was.

I went over to the phone playing the music and pressed pause.

She stopped and smiled at me. “Hello.”

My temper snapped. “I’m not paying you to bake cookies. You had a list of things to do today.”