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When I opened the door to my father’s room, I gave him a quick look. It was a game that I’d been playing. I had to measure his condition without looking at him too long, or else I’d start crying. I didn’t do it often; I wasn’t a crier, but it happened.

Blip, blip, blip, blip. I wanted to put the heart monitor on silent, but my mom insisted we keep it on, saying there was always a chance. The chemo seemed to eat away at everything it touched, especially the heart.

The hissing sound from the oxygen tank was just as bad. My father was getting smaller, deflating slowly, and his oxygen mask looked horrendous. He’d shrunk so much that it covered most of his cheeks now, and the bones stuck out the top, a stark reminder of the skeleton beneath.

I set his macaroni down on his tray and started to turn around, but his eyes opened, and he stared at me. He smiled and took off his mask in the slow, trembling way he moved after treatments. “I love you, sweetie,” he said. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Daddy.” I took his hand and squeezed it. “Are you hungry?”

“I could eat.” He tried to steady his hand when he grabbed his fork and managed to do it all right. He picked up a bite and pulled it up to his mouth.

“Do you need help?” I asked.

“I can manage. I have to do some things for myself.”

It was about dignity, a sacred principle in our household. “All right, Daddy.” I walked out and went back into the kitchen to make my mom a plate. She sat in the living room with her head laid back and her eyes closed.

“Mom,” I said.

She turned to me with drooping eyes.

“Here, I made you a plate.”

“No, I’m all right, sweetie.”

“I know you’re not eating.” I set it down on the couch next to her.

She stared at it for a second, then turned back to the TV. “I’m not hungry.”

“You have to take care of yourself.” I put the plate in her lap and sat down next to her. “Part of the reason I’m doing this is to take some of the pressure off you.”

“I can’t sit here all day. I have to stay busy, and I can’t just rely on you to pay the bills.”

“I’m more than old enough to shoulder some of the burden,” I said. My phone vibrated in my pocket. “Will you do me a favor and eat a little bit?”

“Of course,” she said and took a bite.

“I’ll be back.” I walked into the kitchen. I had a missed call from Jake. I felt a sudden rush pound through me. I knew what he wanted, and I wanted it just as bad as he did.

Jake lived in a different world, with sexy cars, a huge bank account, and a mansion. Nobody in his world had cancer. They didn’t have to work three jobs. They had nice houses, careers, and a bright future ahead of them. It was a different reality, tantalizing and sweet, but it was fake, just an escape. At least I got to spend a few moments inside it.

The rush only got worse when I started to call him. My heart pounded.

“Hey,” he said, answering quickly. He wanted me bad. I could hear how eager he was.

“Hey,” I said, a little awkwardly.

“You think you could come over in an hour or so? I hope it’s not a bad time.”

Even if it was, I’d still come, just to get away. “No, it’s fine. I’ll be there.”

“Good, I’ll see you soon.”

There was a pause while I waited for him to hang up, but he didn’t. “Okay, see you soon.”

“Hey, Mom.” I poked my head into the living room. “I gotta work. Will you two be okay while I’m gone?”

“Huh?” She was so dazed when she looked at me, like she was ready to fall asleep. “Okay, sweetie. I’ll see you soon.”


Tags: Claire Adams Billionaire Romance