Page 32 of If Love Had A Manual

I keep myself busy playing with Rosie. I don’t wantto get in trouble, too, and Doris looks like she’s about to give a scolding. Grandpa is the grown-up. Let him deal with it.

“What’s that grease spot doing on your pajamas?” Doris asks, arching a skeptical brow.

Grandpa looks down. Sure enough, there’s an incriminating oil stain blooming on the fabric.

“Uh, that—” He scrambles for an explanation while looking to me for help. I keep my eyes cast downward. “That’s just my body’s natural shine. You should be grateful. Most men my age are dusty and dull.”

I choke on the laugh threatening to bubble out of my chest.

“Frank,” she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Hand it over.”

“Hand what over?” He adjusts the blanket, trapping the sandwich beneath Rosie, who’s now giggling hysterically at this new game.

“Don’t play coy. I can smell the bacon from the hallway.”

“You should get your ventilation checked then. Imagine how many innocent people might be accused of bacon crimes due to your faulty sniffers.”

“Grandpa,” I plead. “Just give up.”

He raises his chin. “Never.”

Doris marches closer, staring over her red-rimmed glasses at him. “Are we going to do this the easy way or the hard way?”

He squints. “Depends. Is the hard way you wrestling me to the ground? Because I might enjoy—”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” She stifles a laugh behind the clipboard. “Frank, stop corrupting the youth.”

“Too late for this one.” Grandpa jerks his thumb at me.

“I don’t know this man,” I announce to the room. “Rosie, let’s pack up and leave before we become accessories.”

“Fine,” Grandpa huffs, lifting Rosie to retrieve the now slightly flattened sandwich from beneath her legs. “Here. Take it. You’ve crushed an old man’s spirit.”

“Your spirit will survive without bacon.”

“You’re wrong, Doris. My soul is bacon-shaped.”

She rolls her eyes, but I can see her shoulders drop in defeat before she leans closer to whisper, “If Dr. Stevenson asks, we confiscated this immediately.”

“I won’t squeal.”

Poor Doris.

She blows out a breath and hands the sandwich back.

“Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite nurse here?”

The corners of her lips tilt. “You tell me every day, Frank.”

Now that Grandpa is sorted, her attention turns to Rosie, and with the sight of her, she melts. “Look at this little cutie. Who’s this gorgeous girl?”

“That,” Grandpa proclaims, patting Rosie’s back gently, “is my new partner in crime.”

Doris spends a few indulgent minutes fussing over Rosie, making silly faces and funny sounds that draw delighted squeals from her.

Eventually, she glances my way, her smile softening. “We haven’t seen you in a while, Lena. Has work been keeping you busy?”

“Busy is an understatement,” I say, watching Rosie tug Grandpa’s watch once again. “But good. It’s been really good.”

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