Dad wrinkles his brow, patting my arm after we hug. “Notthat I’m not happy to see you, honey, but where’s the rest of them?”
“The rest of who?”
“Who do you think?” He tsks, craning his neck to peer around me. “Forest and the kids.” Mom helps him take a sip of water from his plastic tumbler. “If you left them at home, well, you turn right around and go get them.”
“They’re here, waiting.” I motion to the door, which is blocked from his view by the hanging privacy curtain pulled halfway across the room.
“Hurry up and tell them to come in,” he says crossly.
Josephine is much more solemn when she steps quietly into the room, her chin tucked to her chest. It breaks my fucking heart, and I didn’t know it could hurt any more than it already does.
“There’s my girl. Come here, Josie,” Dad says, holding his arms open.
Josephine flies toward him with a sob. When he tries to lift her onto the bed himself, his face goes white as a sheet, and Isaiah jumps forward to help her up. Dad grunts, pulling Forest’s daughter into a sideways bear hug that must pain him greatly, but he tries not to show it.
“I was so scared!” Josephine cries, burrowing her face into his thick shoulder, his beard unusually scruffy since he wasn’t able to shave this morning.
“Oh, honey, I’m fine,” Dad says, though he’s anything but. “Don’t you worry about me. I’ll be out of here lickety-split, and then you can show me all your new masterpieces.” Over her shoulder, he asks, “Sebby, Benny, where are they?”
Forest clears his throat when he steps past the privacy curtain, guiding Sebastian ahead of him.
“Somebody, help him up,” Dad says when Josephine slides off the bed with Mom’s help so the IV doesn’t get torn loose from Dad’s arm.
I lift Sebastian over the hospital bed’s railing so he can give Dad a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek. Forest does the same with Benjamin, then passes the baby to Bailey when she asks to hold him, propping him up on her large belly.
“Thanks for including her,” Forest tells Dad, cutting his eyes to Josephine.
Dad’s forehead wrinkles, and he opens his mouth to say something, but Mom tuts as Dad’s brow breaks out in sweat. Fluffing his pillows, she mutters, “Can’t eat dessert if you’re dead, which you will be, if you don’t start listening to me and your doctors.”
Dad’s face blanches, and he lies back. He snags Mom’s wrist to stop her fussing with his blanket and says, “I learned my lesson, and I’ll listen from now on. I promise, I’ll listen.”
Mom’s small chin quivers. “No more forgetting your pills or sneaking unhealthy snacks?”
“Scout’s honor,” he says, softening further as he draws her closer. “I’ll set an alarm.”
Mom strokes his cheek. “No stops for fast food on the way home or ordering in at the office?”
Dad sighs. “I’m done with all that.”
“And you’ll start going on walks with me after dinner? Every night? No excuses?”
“None.”
Mom’s tears roll off her face onto his blue and white hospital gown when she bends over the rail and presses her forehead lightly to his, her abnormally unkempt braid swinging forward. “Good. Because I don’t want to live in this world without you.”
He cups her face and says quietly, “I’m sorry, angel. I’ll do everything in my power to stay here with you for as long as possible.”
I grew up witnessing my parents’ fierce love and loyalty. Though cringey and nauseating at times, they gave us theworld’s best example of how a marriage should work, choosing every day to accept each other’s flaws, and still love one another to the very depths of their souls. James and Shayla are setting that example for their kids; Bailey and Isaiah will soon set it for their triplets. I hope, one day, if I ever find anyone who shares my dream for the future, that we’ll be able to do so, too, for our kids.
For now, in a room full of so much open love and affection, I stand separate, suffocating, and I back away into the hallway.
“Are you okay, angel?” Forest whispers, following after me.
Looking up into the handsome face of the man I didn’t want to fall in love with, I try to smirk when I tell Forest, “I’m not pregnant, so you’re off the hook, BigDawg.” I turn away from his shocked expression, his spine stiff.
“No,” Forest says with a hitch to his voice, hooking an arm around my waist and spinning me back around, our chests pressed together. He cups the back of my head, the eye contact intense, his rapidly cycling emotions broadcasting across his masculine features. “Stop running away from me.”
I’m powerless against the rising tide of pure need for this man—not his body, but his connection. It overwhelms and crushes me when he presses his lips to mine. Even then, he doesn’t close his eyes, and neither do I. Forest supports my weight when my knees go weak as our tongues meet, and the kiss deepens when I lift and wrap my arms around his neck for what will be the last time. He just doesn’t know it yet.
