Page 79 of Confessions of the Funny Fat Friend

She hmphed. Maybe it was supposed to be a laugh. “Coffee?” she asked.

I nodded toward the pot, still tending to the pancakes. “Did you know your mom keeps coffee in a cookie jar?”

That got her laughing. “It’s decorative.”

“It’shidden,” I retorted. “If the can isn’t red or blue, I have no idea what to look for.”

She stirred in cream and sugar, took a long sip, then said, “All a part of my mom’s evil plan to see how we’d handle a relationship decaffeinated.”

“Now there’s a test,” I replied, taking a drink of my own coffee. “But I am a morning person. I like to get my workout in before work, or I’d be too tired afterward.”

She shook her head at me. “I knew there had to be something wrong with you.”

I tossed my head back and laughed. “You’re so grumpy when you first wake up.”

Smiling slightly, she said, “Only after I’ve been kept awake all night.”

I winked at her. “I’m more than happy to stay up for those reasons.”

“Me too.”

I leaned in and kissed her, her tongue tasting like sweet coffee, and then got back to cooking.

She leaned against the counter, watching me. “I was thinking I’d go visit my grandma real quick before work.”

I glanced at the clock. It was only six fifteen. “Do you mind if I come along?”

Her smile grew. “I’d love that.”

“There’s my sunshine,” I said. “Just needed some coffee.”

She shook her head at me and took another drink. I finished dishing up the pancakes, and we ate in companionable silence before she needed to shower and get dressed. I’d brought a change of clothes to wear, so I put those on, and we made quick work of getting out the door and into my truck.

“It’s fun, riding to work together,” she said with a smile.

I smirked. “It’s fun, knowing I’m your only ride so you’ll be forced to stay with me.”

She snorted. “As if you’d do that. You’re too nice.”

“Too nice?” I pretended my chest was hurting. “You wound me.”

“It’s a compliment. Most guys I know feel like they have to put on this tough guy act, never show an emotion. The way you handle things is... refreshing.”

“I’ll take that compliment,” I said.

She pointed out another turn, and soon we were at the hospital, walking toward her grandma’s room. As we approached, I could hear someone talking to her grandma. Hen listened quietly at the door and said, “Sounds like the doctors are here.”

She knocked, and the talking paused as we walked into the room. Cordelia lit up at the sight of Henrietta and grinned even bigger when she saw me behind her.

“Hi, you two! Sounds like Tyler was quite the hero yesterday.” Cordelia said to the doctor, “He installed vinyl floors and a ramp so I could get around the house easier.”

The woman in a white coat smiled at me. “That’s great. I was just telling your grandma here that things are on the right track. Inflammation and pain seem to be down, so we’ll focus on the steroid regimen and some strenuous physical therapy, since Cordelia says she’s up for the challenge.”

Hen squeezed her grandma’s hand. “Gran’s the toughest person I know.”

“When will I be able to go home?” Cordelia asked.

The doctor glanced at the chart in her hand. “Other than the hip, you’re looking very healthy. Once you’re able to make it around this unit with your walker, without anyone assisting, I don’t see why we wouldn’t release you. I’ll recommend outpatient PT three times a week, but there may be an option to have someone see you at home.”

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