Page 228 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 2

“I’m here however Marlow needs me to be.”

My dad laughs, the bellow loud, but then the wheezing begins again. He pats Jackson’s arm and says, “That’s exactly what you should say, son.” Tugging on his sleeve, he says, “Come closer, and I want you to listen to me.”

Jackson moves in a little more. My dad says, “Don’t fuck up like I did. Marlow is my princess. Whether you’re dating my daughter or you marry her, she’s your queen. You understand?”

He’s nodding, but I swear I hear Jackson gulp. “I do.”

“You’ve always been a good kid. Don’t make me come back from the bowels of hell to kick your ass.”

With a roll of my eyes, I start laughing. Jackson doesn’t. “I won’t, sir.” Now I’m laughing even harder.

“This is the most ridiculous conversation I’ve ever been a part of.” I smile, but sadness still hangs in the air, knowing the outcome. “You need to be resting rather than intimidating the man I love, Dad.”

“They made me sleep for hours before calling you. I’m ready to bust out of this place and have a good cigar.”

The door opens, and dread sets in. The nurse says, “He needs rest.”

When I look at my dad like it might be the last time I see him, he says, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. We have a lot to discuss. For instance, you saying ‘the man I love.’ I think that’s the first time I’ve heard that.”

“Let’s not make it the last.”

“Ah.” My dad starts chuckling. “The girl’s got jokes. She takes after her old man.”

“Don’t push yourself, Mr. Marché,” the nurse cautions with a stern tone. “You need rest.”

Turning to me, my dad says, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I don’t ask for a promise or anything at all. I stand in the contentment of the present instead. Leaning down, I kiss his cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, Marlow. Always. Remember that. Okay?”

Nodding, I say, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As soon as I release the bedside railing, he says, “By the way, Lorie and I divorced a few months back. I heard she was trying to come in and claim she’s still my wife.”

The news comes as a shock. They’ve volleyed divorce around a couple of times in the past but never followed through. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugs but winces right after. “We weren’t on speaking terms. I’m telling you now because she will start making claims on properties and assets as soon as I’m in the ground.”

“Dad . . .” He speaks of death so freely when I’m still hoping for a miracle to save him.

Jackson’s brows knit together. “Has a settlement been made in the bankruptcy case?” Someone else might be bothered that he’s talking finances, but I know Jackson always has my best interest at heart.

My dad replies, “They got their money from selling the other properties and even the artwork Marlow acquired for me. It was worth a fortune and went up for auction. The house and what’s left in it all goes to my daughter.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Do you want me to leave it to an ex-wife? I have a lot of those to choose from, but none that I’m particularly fond of.” He smiles. It’s always been the one thing we had in common.“Except maybe your mom. I live with a lot of regret when it comes to Talia, but I’m too old and out of shape to catch her eye like I once did.” Seemingly caught up in a memory, he smiles to himself and then snaps out of it, and says, “It’s a house. Sell it and buy a place you love in New York City. You two can start your family there.”

My eyes latch onto Jackson’s the moment family is mentioned. I struggle to read the undercurrent between us and take a sobering breath.

The nurse clears her throat, which helps break the thickening air, and holds the door open in a not-so-subtle hint.

“Take care of yourself, Mr. Marché,” Jackson says.

“Take care of my daughter. That’s all that matters.”

I know Jackson. He’s always believed in me, but there’s nothing to prove to my father, so he moves to the door and waits for me. “Good night, Dad.”

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