Page 145 of Scarred Crown

I left my meeting with my father until after Julia, Brice, and I went to see the Alzheimer’s patients at the local old age home.

Julia walks with me from the car to my father’s office door.

Brice was a gem at the facility, and everyone there, unsurprisingly, loves him. But man, it was fucking hard to see people in various states of cognitive decline.

Then Brice arranged, unbeknownst to me, a series of meetings with caregivers and relatives of those in the facility. Another spike to my heart was pounded in while I listened to them talk about their loved ones or the patients they care for. Every time he gently brought up the referendum, every single person said they hoped the legalization went through. Not because they wanted their loved ones to die but because they wanted a choice about how the end came.

Julia squeezes my arm and clings to my hand outside my father’s office door. “Do you want me to go in with you?” she asks.

Tears prick at my eyes, and I shake my head. We haven’t talked much since leaving the home, but this conversation with my father is one I need to have on my own.

“When we’re done, I’ll come get you for dinner,” I say.

“I’ve got faith in you.” She rises on her toes and kisses my cheek.

“Even when no one else does.” I give a hoarse chuckle.

She squeezes my hand one last time, and then she heads down the corridor to our suite of rooms.

Before I can lose my nerve, I knock on his door.

“Come in,” he calls.

I’m in his calendar, so he must know it’s me. When I open the door, he grins at me behind his desk. Despite the poor way we left things a few days ago, he’s happy to see me.

For a moment, I stand in the doorway and soak up the expression on his face, the tenderness in his gaze. The people I saw and talked to today showed me these moments are ticking away. What I’m about to tell him makes me feel like I’m part of the clock.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” my father says, gesturing to the chair across from his desk. “Come in and tell me how you’re doing.”

And that’s my father in a nutshell. Staring down his mortality, the demise of his consciousness, and he’s worried about me. Since I’ve decided to live my life devoid of assumptions, I’m going to start with something I’ve been wondering about but haven’t asked. Coincidentally, it’s a much easier topic than what I really need to say.

I slide into the seat across from him and rub my hands along the thighs of my jeans. Since the visit to the home was informal, we all dressed in regular attire. My father wears a suit everywhere. There is no dressing down for him, and now that I think about it, Alex is rarely without an immaculate suit as well.

From across the desk, I meet his gaze. “Why did you send Jules to Tanzania?”

My father takes a deep breath and raises his eyebrows. “Julia’s parents, your mother, and I had dinner after I got the final confirmation of my diagnosis. We all agreed there were difficult days ahead for you, for Julia. You were already in Tanzania at the time, had just left. Rather than calling you back, I said I was going to let you stay, enjoy your final trip worry free.”

“That explains why you were willing to leave me there, not how Julia ended up traveling to ‘bring me home.’” We both know the excuse was a decoy for Julia only.

“We were at the table reminiscing about all the trouble you and Julia used to get into.”

“Trouble,” I scoff. “Hardly.”

“Cliff jumping, stealing bottles of wine from the cellar, rides on your motorcycle in the middle of the night, and I could go on if you like.” My father chuckles.

“No need.” I wave him off when my cheeks heat at the reminders.

“We all said we were surprised nothing romantic ever sprung up between you two. In fact, you seemed to have drifted very far apart. But both of you were devastated by the distance. So sad. Reluctant to talk to anyone about what went wrong.” He searches my face. “So, we concocted a plan to see whether proximity would make the heart grow fonder. You can thank Julia’s mother for the lack of a spare tent or bed at the camp.”

“You’re kidding, right?” I groan and slouch deeper into the chair.

“Phone calls were made, and I admit, this was after several bottles of wine split amongst us. Perhaps not our finest hour.” He winks at me. “But it has been…” A faraway, satisfied expression settles on his face. “Very gratifying to see you both come home so happy and so clearly, utterly in love.”

“I’ve never loved anyone the way I love her.”

“It shows.” My father’s smile is tender.

“But then why call us home?” I ask. “If the goal was matchmaking…”