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I don’t answer. It’s not my decision to make, and I don’t give a damn either way.
“It isn’t good for the kids to see their grandfather like this, you know?” she continues. “This shouldn’t be their last memory of him.”
Again, I stay silent.
“Ugh,” she sighs. “I’m not getting a signal in this room. Are you?”
“I wouldn’t know.” I haven’t made a call or checked my phone since it was dropped off.
“I’ll be right back.” Phone in hand, Nicola trots to the hall.
My father’s chest rises and falls as the monitors beep—slow and steady, then sporadically fast for a handful of beats. His face is swollen. Fingers too. The nurse said that’s common with heart failure patients. I just hate the way it distorts him.
Eyes closed, I try to imagine living in a world where Redmond Rothwell III no longer exists, only instead, my mind is rattling off all the ways I could have been a better son.
I could have visited more than once a year.
I could have called on days that weren’t birthdays or holidays.
I could have stayed longer than eight weeks in the summer instead of ticking off each day like a kid at sleepaway camp biding his time until it’s over.
I could have listened to his stories without interrupting him and reminding him that he’d already told that one before.
The old man and I have had our share of differences over the years, but the love was never lost . . . I just did a shitty job at making that clear to him.
I hopped on a tour bus, lived a dream life that was only afforded to me because of my last name, and I made excuses.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” I say because this might be the last time I’ll ever have a moment alone with him. “And I love you.”
Those three little words have never come easily to me. My mother used to say them so much that I convinced myself they lost their meaning, and I went out of my way to avoid saying them after that—until Audrina came along.
Saying them to him now feels like too little, too late.
A light rap at the door shakes me out of my despondent reverie. I sit straight, unfurling my tight back, and slide my palms against the top of my jeans as I wait for the nurse to come in and do her thing.
Only it’s not a nurse.
It’s Audrina.
Her white-blonde hair is twisted into a neat bun on the top of her head; her face is scrubbed free of any trace of makeup, and her long-limbed body is covered with coordinating beige sweats, but it’s her.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I keep my voice low. Heat stings my veins as I recall Nic’s idea from last night. I made it crystal clear that if she invited Audrina to the hospital, I’d never forgive her. Not unsurprisingly, my words fell on deaf ears.
Guess she’ll learn the hard way that I made a promise, not a threat . . .
“This space is for family only,” I add, rising. “You can’t be here.”
She gives me an apologetic half smile, before striding toward the bed and taking a seat on the edge.
“I didn’t come here for you,” she says to me while concentrating on my father. “Or your brother. I’m here for Redmond and only Redmond.”
Audrina swipes a tear from her cheek before cupping her hand over my father’s.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter under my breath as I turn to leave. I can’t watch this shit show another second longer. That, and I need to find my sister and have her take care of this problem she created.
“Redmond, it’s Audrina,” she says to him, her voice as soft as cashmere. “I just wanted to thank you for . . .”
I don’t stick around to listen.
My father was good to her. That much I know. She reminded him of his first wife, he once told me. Outgoing. Adventurous. Worldly. Captivating. Easy on the eyes. Every time I’d bring Audrina by, my father would light up like Christmas and the Fourth of July had come all at once.
And I couldn’t blame him . . . because I did the same thing.
Once upon a time, I was smitten with her—so smitten that I got down on one knee and proposed marriage because she wanted a commitment and a ring—and my biggest fear was losing her. I was willing to put aside my personal beliefs on the outdated institution of marriage as long as it meant keeping her.
And she was mine . . .
. . . until the summer I brought her to Driftway and she met Burke.
I turn right at the end of the hall and find my sister leaning against the wall, her phone pressed to the side of her face as she barks orders to someone I can only assume is her husband.
