Page 158 of Playing By Ear

“You won’t be able to enjoy anything if you’re sleep-deprived.”

“I know.” Jamie thought back over the day. “His mood swings are more like mood lurches now. I cannae keep up, and yeah, I know me not sleeping makes it worse. I’m always on the edge of screaming my head off at him.” He let his eyes drift shut. “Childing is hard.”

“Childing?”

“It’s my word for ‘parenting a parent.’”

“Of course.” Perry frowned, his brows dipping toward each other. “I want to help you, but I don’t know how.”

“Just being there for me is enough.”

Perry was silent for a few seconds. “What if being there for you meant being there for you? I’ll come to your father’s house and look after you whilst you’re looking after him.”

Jamie gaped at the screen. He’d never imagined Perry meeting the family, much less his father.

But in the time it took to find his voice, he realized how much he needed Perry at his side.

“I’d love that.” He swallowed hard to keep from getting choked up. “Give me a day to work out when’s best, and then, yeah, I want you here.”

“It’ll be my pleasure.” Perry tilted his head. “Probably not ‘pleasure,’ if I’m being realistic. But definitely my honor. I’ll make myself useful in the kitchen so you never have to think about food.”

“Wow,” Jamie whispered. “Thank you.” What had he done to deserve such a man?

A whimper caught his ear. Jamie checked the baby monitor—which he’d dubbed MTV—and saw Layla standing on her dog bed, gazing at his father. She laid her chin on the hospital bed, then lifted a forepaw as if preparing to jump up. But then she turned away and lay on her dog bed again.

Jamie sat up. “Perry, I’ll call you back in ten.”

“Everything all right?”

“Aye, I’ve just had an idea.”

He got up and proceeded to dismantle his single bed, leaving only the mattress for himself. He carried the bed frame pieces into his dad’s room. Layla sprang to her feet at his arrival, but Martin slept on. Jamie beckoned Layla out of the way so he could reassemble his own bed frame beside Martin’s profiling bed. Then he placed the box spring atop the frame, followed by Layla’s dog bed.

Now her bed was the same height as his dad’s, but there was a gap of a few inches between them. So he fetched his own duvet, stuffed part of it into the gap, then spread the rest around and fluffed it up.

Layla didn’t need to be invited. Jowls swaying, she mounted the mega–doggy bed, then plopped her giant frame down across the border. With a few twitches, she settled into the fluffy duvet, then let out a deep, drooling sigh of contentment. After a moment of stillness, she angled her chin to rest on Martin’s thigh.

Jamie’s dad stirred. Without opening his eyes, Martin moved his hand to brush the top of the dog’s solemn gray head. Her ear flicked, then she snuggled more firmly against him.

Jamie turned away, but stopped at the threshold and looked back. Martin’s allegedly sleeping face held a wisp of a smile.

“Mate, you sure this is the place?” the taxi driver asked as he slowed the car.

Perry repeated the address Jamie had given him. “Is there a problem finding it?”

“Naw, everyone in North Glasgow knows Martin MacKray’s house.” He parked the car and pulled the boot latch, muttering, “Whether they want to or not.“

Perry’s door was opened from the outside. “Hi, I’m Belinda! Oh, sorry, I’m in your way. I’ll just fetch your things from the boot.”

Awkwardness already. “Thanks.”

Belinda guided him through what sounded like an iron gate with a security pad, remembering to mention that it swung in instead of out. “Jamie wanted to greet you, but our dad is having a bit of a situation.”

“No need to elaborate.”

“No desire to elaborate,” she said. “I stuck the kettle on, so we can have a cuppa before I show you round the kitchen.”

They went inside—another security pad—through a dim entrance hall into a well-lit living room, where Perry was frisked by Martin’s main bodyguard, Gerry, as Jamie had predicted.