Falling Into Love with You (The Hate-Love Duet Book 2) Rowe, Lauren (read aloud TXT) 📖

word, more than any other, that describes what Mimi has always shown to me. The gift of unconditional love and acceptance.

When I finish singing, Mimi whispers, in a barely audible voice. “I’m ready, Ady.”

Tears flood my eyes. Sasha warned me last night that’s what Mimi’s been thinking, but I didn’t expect Mimi to say it to me so bluntly. So starkly, without warning or lead-in.

The words “Not yet, Mimi!” form on my lips. But I bite them back and swallow them down. Of course, I want my grandmother to stay here with me. I can’t imagine a world where she isn’t here to chastise me with a gentle “Adrian” when I’m being a shithead. To smile at me when I’m being goofy. And most of all, to love me, no matter what stupid thing I do or say. But I know all of those desires are selfish—that now it’s my turn to show Mimi grace.

Still cupping Mimi’s slight hand in mine, I rest my elbows onto the mattress and say, “If you’re ready to go, then go. Cross the bridge to Jasper and Frank. Have a picnic with them. Give them lots of hugs and kisses. I’ll miss you so much—more than I could ever say in words. But I promise I’ll be okay, and that I’ll spend the rest of my life doing my best to be the man you’ve tried to teach me to be.” I wipe a tear from her cheek. “Oh, how you’ve tried to teach me. I was quite a project, huh?”

Mimi smiles weakly.

“You did good, Maria Savage,” I whisper, caressing her white hair. “I’m going to be okay, thanks to you. You taught me how to love with all my heart and soul. You taught me, Mimi. And I listened and learned. I know it didn’t seem like it sometimes, but I promise I did. I understand everything now, Mimi, so you can go now, without worrying about me.”

Mimi smiles, letting me know my words have touched her, and then she looks at her caregiver in the corner.

“Now?” the woman says. And when Mimi nods, her nurse walks to the dresser, pulls out a tiny box from the top drawer, and brings it to me, its lid opened. There’s a simple ring inside—a band with the tiniest of diamonds at its center.

“Your grandfather slipped this ring onto your grandmother’s finger the day they got married,” the nurse says. “Mimi wants you to take the diamond out of this ring and use it somewhere in the setting of Laila’s engagement or wedding ring.”

“Oh, Mimi,” I say, feeling overcome with guilt. I felt justified in lying to Mimi about my fake engagement with Laila yesterday, given the situation, but accepting Mimi’s treasured wedding ring from Jasper today, to give to my fake fiancée, feels wrong. “I shouldn’t accept this,” I say reflexively, but add quickly, “Sasha should have it, in case she gets married one day.”

Mimi looks exasperated with me—which, I must admit, makes me grin. How many times have I seen this same look of exasperation on Maria Savage’s face over the years, when talking to me? Too many to count. And every time, it makes me smile.

The nurse says, “Mimi’s already talked to Sasha about this ring, and told her she wanted you to have it for your future wife one day. This was weeks ago, before she knew about you and Laila. And Sasha said that sounded like a lovely idea. Mimi’s given Sasha all her other jewelry, and Sasha is thrilled with that.”

I exhale, feeling a bit better about the situation. If Mimi wanted me to have this ring before I’d lied to her about Laila, and Sasha’s not bummed to miss out, then I suppose I can take the ring, as Mimi wishes. “Thank you, Mimi,” I say, slipping the box into the pocket of my hoodie. “This means a lot.”

She nods weakly.

Once again, I stroke her white hair. “Do you want to see me as a judge on Sing Your Heart Out? I’ve got the first episode cued up on my laptop over there.”

Mimi nods and smiles.

I ask softly, “Should I call Sasha and Laila to come in here and watch with us?”

Mimi shakes her head and whispers, “Just you and me, Ady.”

My heart squeezes. “Okay. That sounds good, Mimi. Just you and me.”

Trembling, I grab my laptop and connect it to the large television on the far wall. And when I’ve got the show cued up, I crawl into Mimi’s bed alongside her, reposition her frail body until she’s lying comfortably in my arms, and press play.

The familiar theme song of Sing Your Heart Out begins and Mimi makes the tiniest cooing sound in my arms. It’s a far cry from the whooping and laughter and shrieks I expected to hear from my grandmother when I’ve imagined this moment. I never envisioned Mimi watching me on the show while lying in my arms, unable to speak without significant effort. But even so, that little cooing sound was enough. It tells me she’s conscious, able to understand what she’s seeing, and thrilled about it.

At the end of the day, all I wanted was for Maria Savage to get to see that the little twelve-year-old asshole she took into her home—and into her heart—has grown up and made her proud. I wanted her to see that, thanks to her, and her ability to dream so fucking big for me, that little asshole is now sitting at the judges’ table on her all-time favorite show. I wanted her to see she did this. She took an angry and distrustful pile of shit and turned him into something golden. Someone people actually care about. All because Mimi cared first and so fucking well.

About fifteen minutes into the show, I glance down to find Mimi’s eyes closed. I look in panic at the monitor next to the bed and exhale with relief when the neon line marking her heartbeat is still bouncing up and