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“Oh, baby.” She chuckled, slipping off the countertop and pulling me into her arms. “You get more endearing every single day.”
“And you find more reasons to tease me,” I pointed out, but let her kiss me senseless anyway. I wouldn’t complain.
“But I make up for it,” she countered.
“Yeah?” I chuckled, my hands roaming down to her lower back. “How do you figure?”
“By cooking you breakfast, duh.”
“Seems like a sweet deal to me,” I said, stealing another kiss before she stormed the pantry.
Chapter thirty-three
Change
Frankie
I’dbeguntohatethe sting of chemicals that clung to the walls of the hospital. The scent shoved itself up my nose, the endless white halls becoming bleaker and longer. Mom had been stuck there for far too long, and after her latest attack…
Who knew how much longer she’d have to stay here?
I ignored the barbed fear, trying to untangle myself from the mess it had already made in my head.
I found Dad in the cafeteria, hunched over a Styrofoam cup and staring at nothing.
“Is that black coffee?” I asked instead of greeting him.
He lifted gaunt, haunted eyes to me and my heart ached. “Hey, kiddo,” he said, gruff and tired. “Nah, I was just about to order a sandwich.”
I pulled out a chair and sat down opposite him, setting my keys and phone on the table between us.
“What did you have for breakfast?” I asked, not believing his feeble lie for a second.
He shrugged. “This and that.” He sighed. “Some cereal, I guess.”
“I almost don’t want to ask if you slept at all.”
“Good, because I really don’t wanna tell you.”
“I said ‘almost’, Dad.”
He heaved another sigh. I changed the topic.
“Have you seen Mom yet?”
He shook his head, his fingernails leaving crescent-shaped dents in the Styrofoam.
“The ICU visiting times are different,” he said. “Only once per day, and only one person at a time. I can’t remember the last time we’ve been apart this long.”
“I know, Dad,” I murmured, squeezing his hand gently. He squeezed my hand in return, but it was lifeless. “Let’s go up so that we can spend every available second with her; what do you think?”
He brightened a little, his chair scraping loudly as he pushed back to get to his feet.
“C’mere,” he said, sticking his elbow out. I looped my arm through his and walked beside him, his hand patting mine soothingly. “What about you, hm?”
“What about me?”
“How are you doing?”
