Page 146 of The Sweetest Devotion

There was business, and then there was harassment. Why couldn’t Cain work with Phil while my father took a step down?

“Sit,” my father ordered without taking his eyes off his reading.

Of course Phil couldn’t just lead Nichols & Wagner. My father wouldn’t step down if you paid him.

“Can’t you say please?” I replied as I remained standing in the doorway.

My father lowered his glasses and gaped at me.

Cain said nothing as he stood coolly waiting for my father to finish whatever they were going over.

A beat went by as my father continued to stare at me. In the end, like always, I conceded.

I went and took a seat in the chair by his bed and waited my turn.

My father went back to Cain. “You wanna extend on my property, fine, but you’re thinking small.”

Cain took the criticism with ease. “Damon, a complete remodel would take far more time than an extension.”

“Okay?” my father challenged. “I’ve got time. What, do you have something else more pressing at hand?”

Cain’s gaze flickered to mine. “He’s going to outlive us all.”

Even if he were teasing, we could only hope.

My father held the papers out for Cain to take. “I still want the new structure in LA. The Residence at Cartier should be a completely new look and design. We’re not cutting corners.”

Cain accepted this with a nod of his head. “Yes, sir.”

“Now, on to the next order of business.” My father removed his glasses and sat up a little more, trying to get comfortable as he faced me.

“Should we be alone?” I wondered of Cain’s presence.

My father made a face. “Up to him.”

I watched as Cain’s finger tapped the stack of papers in his hand as he looked from my father to me. Being polite, he decided to step out into the hall to give us privacy.

I waited until the door was shut behind him before giving my father my full attention. “Well?”

The grave expression on his face had me wary. “About the wedding,” he began with a sigh. “It is tradition for a father to walk his daughter down the aisle to give her away. Have you been thinking about that?”

My wedding. He wanted to talk about the impendingworstday of my life.

“No,” I admitted. “I haven’t.”

“I don’t know how I’ll be by December,” my father sounded vulnerable, unlike himself. “This thing can’t be controlled or reasoned with. The most people live with this disease is three years and we’re on year two.”

I wanted to plug my ears, to stop him from talking about such a possibility of him not being here. Of him dying. I knew the statistics of ALS like the back of my hand after so much time. Only five percent went on to live twenty years, and ten percent lived ten. My father, he was a special man, a strong man, and a fully capable man of livingwiththis diagnosis rather than succumbing to it.

Only a small few had ALS remit, and others had it burn out within them. On average, it wasn’t stoppable or reversible, but I had hope my father could continue the fight. He seemed determined enough.

“You’ll be the one,” I spoke up clearly and concisely. “You’ve always been the strongest man I know. I’m positive you’ll be the one who sees another year and then another and more.”

A wry smile had my father’s face briefly lighting up. “Your mother wants to plan something for January. A big charity event to bring awareness. There’s only so long I can put this off. I thought about skipping the wedding, but then that wouldn’t be fair to you.”

The wedding itself wasn’t fair to me, but I didn’t have it in me to bring it up. “We could always not do a wedding, and just get married at a courthouse.”

My father clicked his tongue. “I’d rather you move the wedding up than do that.”

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