Against Me (Cedar Tree Book 3) Read Free Page A

waiting for the 'pretty girls' to pass by, just so he can flirt with them. He’s harmless and charming, and at eighty-two, he’s still a handsome man. I bet he was a real catch in his younger days.
    "Doing good, Casanova. You're looking smart today," I say with a wink.
    He chuckles as he always does when I flirt back. It's amazing how it’s the little things that have the ability to make or break a day. This daily interaction never fails to put a smile on my face and lift my spirits. Part of me suspects it's why Juan makes sure to sit in that spot, right at the start of my therapy session.
    "Come have dinner with me tonight? I'll save you a spot in the dining room."
    His hopeful expression has my determination of ‘not to get too attached,’ wavering. At least once or twice a week he asks me to have dinner with him in the dining hall, and I have a hard time refusing the man. He apparently has children, but I rarely see anyone come and visit him.
    "I'll be there. Five o'clock okay?"
    One of the things I’m still getting used to is the food service hours. Based mostly on the needs and desires of the seniors, who make up about eighty-five percent of the population here, it’s unusually early for me. Not that I have a particular time for any meal, I’ve just been used to eating on the run most of my life. This type of structure is a bit confining for me, but when in Rome and all that.
    The response I get from Juan is a big smile and two thumbs up.

    Encouraged by the best physio session so far this afternoon, I make my way over to the table where Juan has reserved a spot for me.
    "So what's on the menu for tonight?" I ask him, wheeling my chair up to the table.
    "Grilled chicken or lasagna," he smiles, already knowing what my favorite will be.
    "No-brainer. Lasagna of course," I confirm.
    "Love to see a woman enjoying her food. I can't stand those people who fuss over every bite they put in their mouths. Have you noticed that most of those folks seem unhappy?"
    I laugh, having heard this theory of his before.
    "You know I have no problems enjoying food. Heck, look at me. I've indulged a bit too much lately," I motion to my uncooperative body that’s been getting softer and softer over the past months.
    Juan just shakes his head at me. "Men like to feel the softness of a woman, my dear. Don't doubt that for a minute."
    I’m relieved at the interruption when a server comes to the table and asks our choice of meal. Both of us order lasagna and Juan gives me a conspiratory wink. Cheeky old geezer.
    "So, tell me how the search for your birth family is coming along?" he prompts me.
    When my father died three years ago, I was going through some boxes from his office and found adoption records. It completely threw me off; I’d never been told that I was adopted. I’d always figured I'd had shitty luck for parents, but until that moment, I hadn't realized I had shitty luck times two. Go figure. My first parents give me up for adoption, and the second set of parents made me feel like a burden. Part of me is relieved to find that the people who raised me did not in fact create me. I just hope my genetic donors are a bit more... let's say, palatable.
    I haven't been in touch with my mother for years, not since she walked out when I was fourteen. I couldn't tell you if she's alive or not. I never did much with the discovery of my adoption, not until I came to Larchwoods. With nothing better to do, and Gus not letting me in on any cases, finding out more about my biological parents seems like the closest I'll get to an investigation. A bit of a diversion, I suppose, although I must admit that it’s become more than just a passing of time. Juan is the only one I've told about my search for my family so far, and he's been very encouraging.
    "I've narrowed the adoption lawyers' names down to a handful of candidates, but no one I talk to seems to want to provide answers, not as long as there’s a possibility my adoptive mother is