Read Groomless - Part 1 for Free Online Page B

tray near his bed, then quickly left. She was in a rush and seemed overworked, but I’d met her before and knew that she, like most of the staff there, was very nice and loved taking care of people.
    My dad glanced down at the dry, overdone chicken and stabbed it with his fork. “It’s not your mother’s cooking, that’s for sure.”
    I laughed. “I miss her roast beef.”
    He closed his eyes, as if remembering her. “Yeah, it was to die for.”
    My mother was my angel, and even after she was gone, she always lived on in my heart. I missed her so much, and the pain of losing her, even years later, still cut deeply. I couldn’t bear to think about losing my dad too. As I looked over at him, tears welled in my eyes, and I began to get emotional. I didn’t want to lose it in front of him, his roommate, and the staff, and I knew I had to put on a brave face for him, to be his pillar of strength for a change. That was hard when I wanted to burst into a fit of tears and scream at the sky, demanding to know why he had to go through it in the first place. He certainly didn’t deserve it, and he’d already lost the love of his wife to the same dreadful disease that was now threatening to take him away from me.
    Knowing it was best that I leave before I had a complete meltdown, I grabbed my purse, walked over to him, and placed a peck on his cheek. “I’m gonna let you eat, Dad. I’ve got some strict deadlines to meet.”
    “Always working, aren’t ya, kiddo? And moonlighting too.” He shook his head. “You should stop taking those side jobs writing fashion articles. Why don’t you go out and have dinner with a nice fellow or something?”
    “Well, for starters, so-called nice fellows are hard to come by these days.” As much as I loved my dad, I didn’t appreciate his constant reminders of my nonexistent love life and the slew of bad dates I’ve had. Who has time to date anyway? I asked myself. I was far too overworked and stressed out for that. 
    “Well, there’s this really nice male nurse, and he—”
    “Dad, please don’t tell me you’re trying to set me up.”
    “He works in the morning.”
    “Dad, no.” I smiled. “Okay, I have to go.”
    He grinned back at me, then poked his overdone chicken again. “You can’t possibly leave me to eat burnt rubber. If I bite into this thing, I’ll need dental surgery next.”
    I let out a sigh. “I suppose I can try and whip something up for you and bring it back.”
    He smirked at the notion, knowing I was no Julia Child.
    “But we both know it’ll be worse than this,” I said. “Like I always say, I only have a kitchen because it came with my apartment.”
    We both burst into laughter.
    “My poor cat eats table scraps, and she’s only got about three more lives left,” I said.
    He chuckled. “Last time, you used the smoke alarm as a cooking timer.”
    I cleared my throat. “Um, I threw that meal out. And yes, my trashcans are properly labeled with biohazard stickers.”
    He let out a loud, deep laugh that jiggled the metal railing on his bed. “You know what I’m craving?” he said.
    “What?”
    “A big, fat, juicy Whopper from Burger King.”
    “Hmm. Well, I can run through the drive-thru and—”
    “Drive-thru? What for? It’s beautiful outside, and I’d love to get out and enjoy some of that fresh spring air.”
    “You want me to take you there?”
    “Why not?”
    “Because you’re hooked up to oxygen.”
    He shot me the puppy eyes and stuck his bottom lip out, just like I used to do to him when I was little and wanted something.
    “I know what you’re thinking,” I said. “That I’m just like Mom. She didn’t have a spontaneous bone in her body.”
    “I didn’t say that,” he said softly.
    “No, but you’re thinking it.”
    He smirked.
    I laughed. “Hey, I’m spontaneous. I took a chance and wore this bright red blouse, even though spring is for pastels. My hair’s in a bun instead of a French braid. I totally made