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“Sure is,” Mason says, nodding agreeably. “If I played this bad on the ice, my coach would bench me for sure.”
Harrison and the other kids laugh and laugh, and Mason throws back his head and does a rooster crow, which ends in a coughing fit.
A nurse approaches and hands him a glass of water.
Harrison glances at me as Mason sips at it. “Did your wife pick your rooster costume out for you?” Mason gags on the water, and it spews all over him—and me—in a wide spray.
“Hey,” I protest.
“She’s not my wife. Absolutely not. We’re not married.”
“I think they get the point, Mason,” I say, shooting him a murderous look. “You don’t need to be quite so adamant.”
“Why aren’t you married to her?” a little girl says. “Don’t you think she’s pretty?”
Mason coughs and tries to clear his throat. “She’s pretty. Prickly things come in pretty packages.” He tries to wipe his face with his wing but just hits his beak.
“What does that even mean?” Harrison asks, his brow wrinkling in puzzlement.
“Yes, Mason, what does it mean?” I echo icily.
Mason blinks. Water beads on his eyelashes. “It means I am so shocked and dismayed that I can’t even form coherent sentences.”
“Imagine how I feel,” I say sourly. I’m not interested in marrying Mason, but he doesn’t have to sound quite so appalled.
Mason stands up abruptly. “Unfortunately, it’s time to go. I’ve had a fantastic time with all of you. Kids, thank you so much for having me here.”
He’s loosening up and doing better and better with every hospital visit.
As we leave, he’s no longer strutting.
He’s unusually silent as we’re led back to the conference room so he can change out of his costume.
“You weren’t too awful up there,” I say.
“Thanks,” he says somberly, without a hint of sarcasm. Is he dying?
“You don’t actually have to marry me as part of the publicity campaign,” I say, trying to get a smile out of him. “I did put it in the contract, but Cecelia took it back out. She thought the costumes would be penance enough.”
Not a single chuckle.
He chews his lower lip, a thoughtful look in his eyes. “Do these kids have a list of wishes, like for the Make A Wish Foundation?”
I feel a squeeze of emotion wringing my heart. He’s going from having a tantrum about the inconvenience of coming to the hospital to actually caring. To really, genuinely, seeing the kids in front of him. “You know, I’m not sure. I can find out.”
He nods vigorously. “Please do. I’m going to come back to this hospital, and I am going to make sure that every kid on that ward gets an item from their list.”
My heart does a little flutter. “Wow. Mason, if I didn’t know better, I’d think that the Grinch’s heart just grew three sizes this day.”
That seems to snap him back to reality.
He straightens up. “Don’t get used to it. And now, I need some help unzipping my cock.”
THE DAILY SNITCH
The Daily Snitch
September 15th
