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“Mom,” Alba groaned, “I’m not even dating anyone.”
“My point exactly. You’re not getting any younger and neither are your ovaries.”
“Mom!” Alba exclaimed, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment. “My love life is none of your business.”
“Well,” Marcy put her hands on her hips, “I wouldn’t have to fret over it so much if you had one. Then I’d leave you alone.”
“Oh, please,” Alba rolled her eyes, “I doubt that.”
“Get a man, then we’ll see who’s right,” Marcy smiled triumphantly when Alba rolled her eyes and left the room. “So, Trace’s grandpa isn’t going to make it?” She turned back to me with sadness in her eyes.
“No,” my lower lip trembled as I fought tears.
“Aw, sweetie, I’m so sorry,” Marcy hugged me. “Y’all will get through this just fine. I know it.”
“I know we will.”
But how long would it be before we were okay again?
I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening at the hospital with Gramps, Trent, and Trace. The doctor didn’t want to let Gramps leave tomorrow, but he was adamant.
“I’m going home, walking this beauty down the aisle, eating cake, and then getting in my bed to die. Don’t mess with my plan,” he warned the doctor with a steely gaze in his eyes.
“Mr. Wentworth, I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. You need—”
“You have no right to tell me what I need. I’m dying and I refuse to do that in this bed that sounds like it’s breathing. Forget tomorrow, I want out tonight,” he started trying to pull the IVs from his arm.
“Gramps,” Trent tried to restrain him. “You can’t do that.”
“I can do whatever the hell I want and I want out of here,” Gramps demanded. “I don’t want to be in this place a second longer. We all know I’m dying, so why must I be stuck here. I’m going home, and going to bed.”
The doctor pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“And while you’re at it, can you get someone to take this needle out of my arm?”
The doctor shook his head and left the room. I was sure they’d never had a patient quite like Warren.
“Gramps, stop that,” Trent pried one of Gramps’ arms away from the other. “You can’t do that.”
“I want this out and I want to go home,” he tried to push himself into a sitting position.
The door opened to the room, yet again, but instead of the doctor, it was Ellie. I knew from Trace that she’d been here this afternoon. I kept missing her when she was here and I wondered how she was holding up. The look on her face told me she wasn’t taking this well. She looked like she’d aged ten years in a matter of days.
She strode over to her husband and kissed him, despite the audience.
“How are you feeling?” She asked, looking him over.
“Like I want to go home,” he coughed. “And I really want this stupid thing out of my arm,” he tugged on the IV wire.
“I’ll get you out of here,” she smiled at her husband, her eyes roaming over every feature like she was trying to memorize him.
An hour later, all the paperwork had been signed and we wheeled Gramps out of the hospital.
Trent said goodbye and headed over to his own car.
Trace and I helped Ellie get Gramps into the car and then watched them drive away.
Trace draped an arm over my shoulder and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Let’s go home and get Ace, then stay the night at the mansion.”
