Page 103 of The Don’s Virgin Obsession

He didn’t say anything at first, just opened his eyes and reached out and touched my leg gently, then said, “What you doin’ here? You not supposed to see me like this.” He looked up at me.

I bent down in front of him. “What’s wrong? What happened?” I asked softly.

“My father is dying.” He was lethargic, and his voice was low and raspy.

My heart immediately broke.

“I’m so sorry,” I told him.

“I don’t know what I’ma do without him. I never thought about him dying.”

“I said the same thing when my mother died, so I know it hurts. I’m sorry for coming here, but I was worried.”

He dropped his head. “You wasn’t worried about me. Nobody is.”

“That’s not true. I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t.”

“How you even know I was here?” he asked, sounding confused.

“I heard Vanessa and came as soon as I could.”

“Well, I’m sick, and I don’t want you here seeing me like this, so leave.”

“Nope. I’m not going anywhere. Let’s get you in the shower and get you moving around.”

“It’s not that easy. The way I feel is deeper than you think.”

I started making him stand up. “Well, I’m going to do what I can. Turn the water on warm and use soap.”

He chuckled dryly. “You sayin’ I stank?”

I giggled. “No.”

He didn’t smell. I was just going off what I heard Vanessa say.

I walked him to the bathroom, damn near pushing him. I turned on the bathroom light, and he groaned.

“You’ll be alright with the light on. Turn on the water.”

“You gon’ stand here and watch me?” he said, sounding annoyed.

“I will if you don’t do what I say.” I folded my arms over my chest.

“Fuck it. You just wanna see me naked, it’s cool.”

I laughed. “Still wanna be funny.”

“Only for you.” He turned on the water. When he dropped the towel, I tried not to look, but he caught me.

“Like what you see?”

I laughed. “Absolutely not. Now get in.”

He wasn’t in there for five minutes before he started dry heaving and coughing. I felt so sad for him. It was obvious he was grieving and depressed. I’d been in his shoes many years ago. After my mother died, I was never the same. I drank too much, smoked too much, partied too much until I isolated, but I went to therapy. I got better and moved on with my life, and I was hoping he would, too.

“Can you go down to the hotel restaurant and get me some more 7 Up?” He gagged. “Please.”

“Yes,” I replied quickly and left out.