Always the Last to Know by Kristan Higgins Page 0,119
about Mom?”
He didn’t say no. My shoulders relaxed. “Mom and Jules are in Boston. They’re having a little girl time. Here.” I pulled my phone from my pocket and showed him the picture. “See? They’re at a spa. Don’t they look happy? But I’m here. I’ll take care of you.”
He sat for a minute, looking peeved. Then he got up out of his chair, struggling a bit, and Noah passed the baby to Mickey and was by his side in a flash. “Where are we headed, Mr. Frost?”
Dad walked to the stairs, listing a little.
“I guess he wants to go to bed,” I said. “I’ll take care of this. You guys stay put and relax. I’ll be right down.”
Dad was halfway up the stairs, and I ran to catch up. He went to his old room, the one he’d shared with Mom. I steered him to Juliet’s old room, where he’d slept for years because his snoring kept mom awake. The bed there had rails for him to grab, and to keep him from falling out.
“You’re doing great, Daddy,” I said. “I’m so proud of you. I know you’re trying really hard, and you’re getting there.” There was a sick feeling in my stomach, though, and I didn’t know why.
I helped him get into his pajamas and put toothpaste on his brush. He knew how to brush his teeth. When he first had the stroke, he couldn’t even breathe on his own. Of course he was getting better.
He got into bed, and I secured the railing, then bent over and kissed his forehead. “I’m here for you, Dad. I know you’re in there, and I want you to know that however long it takes, I’ll be here. I love you.”
He closed his eyes.
Maybe he was just tired. That was probably it. Mom got him ready for bed most nights. He’d probably been trying to say he was done with visiting and wanted Mom to help him. That made the most sense.
I washed my hands in the bathroom across the hall and looked at myself for a minute. I hadn’t had a haircut in a while, and the longer it got, the worse it looked. I thought of the salon I went to in the Bronx, wondered if Robert, my stylist, missed me or wondered why I hadn’t been in. It seemed like a long time ago, that New York life.
When I got downstairs, Mickey and the baby were gone, and Noah was standing at my easel.
“Shit,” I said. “I’m sorry they left.”
“Marcus has a window of time where he needs to get to sleep or he’ll be up all night,” Noah said. “Is your dad okay?”
“Worn out. I mean, he spoke more today than he has since the stroke, at least on my watch. So it was a great day. I think he was just tired.”
He looked at me a minute. “You’re a good daughter, Sadie.”
“He was a great dad. Is a great dad.”
“And Juliet and your mom? How come they got to go to Boston and you didn’t?”
I sat down on the couch and smiled. “I sent them away like a benevolent overlord. Jules is stressed about something at work, and Mom is exhausted.”
“You must be, too.”
“Nah. I’m fine.”
“Mickey really likes you.”
“She’s great, Noah. You couldn’t have found a better baby mama.” Whoops. He let it slide. “I mean, she’s really fun. And open. Just . . . seems like a great person.”
“She is.”
He nodded at my drawing. “This is really . . . touching.”
“Oh, that. I was just . . . goofing around.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Thanks. Um, do you want another beer? A whole beer, just for you?”
“I’m good. Thank you.”
So. We were going to sit and look at each other and exchange pleasantries? Nah. That would be boring. “Noah, can I ask you a personal question?”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you—oh. Sorry.”
He laughed, that low, dirty sound. “Go ahead, Sadie. You know you can’t stop yourself.”
I pulled a face. He was right. “Why didn’t you wait to find someone to marry if you wanted kids?”
“I told you. I tried that. Twice.”
“By which you mean me and Gillian?”
“Yes, Sadie. You and Gillian.”
“I’m not wild about the hard ‘G’ on that. I like the other way better. Jillian. Much nicer.”
“I’ll be sure to tell her.”
“So why have a baby with Mickey? You’re not that old.”
He looked at his glass. “I’ll take that beer after all.” He got up and helped himself, then came back and sat down in the easy chair. “I wanted to