Page 31 of Reluctantly Married

Not wanting to interrupt, she waited for him to continue.

“My mother left when I was just a baby. He had to raise me by himself. And he had no family. No support system. We didn’t have much. In fact, when things got tough, we didn’t have anything.”

The hum of the engine filled the silence for a moment before he spoke again, his voice low. “We lived in a homeless shelter for a while.”

Adam? Homeless? She couldn’t picture it. The man she knew didn’t fit that image. “What happened?”

“It became obvious to the State that my father had mental illness. They took him away and put me in foster care.”

“I’m so sorry.”

An array of emotions flashed across his face. “It was difficult. I was never the popular kid in school. In fact, I worked hard and graduated early so I could get away from it. And as soon as I got a job and could afford it, I went out on my own.”

What he was telling her couldn’t be true. She’d always pictured him as the privileged child. Popular football-playing kid. The kind with a girl on each arm and scholarships to expensive schools. “What about college?”

He laughed without mirth. “I never went to college. There was never any money for it. I’ve had to work my way up the ladder to get where I am.”

Megan stared down at her hands, ashamed at herself for jumping to conclusions about him.

“My father’s a nice man. A little delusional, but harmless. Don’t be afraid of him.”

She nodded. “I’m looking forward to meeting him. What’s his name?”

“Alexander, but everyone calls him Al.”

Adam put his arm around Megan. This was it. Time to introduce her. His gut did a somersault. “Dad, I’d like you to meet my co-host on the morning show. Megan, this is Al.”

His father grinned, gaps showing from his missing teeth. His hair had thinned quite a bit over the years and was now snowy white with a round bald spot on top, matching his round middle. He padded over to them in his slippers. “My dear.” He took her hand, looking up, as he was a little shorter than she. “You are lovelier than sunlight.”

Megan blushed. “Thank you, Mr. Warner.”

“What’s with this Mr. Warner stuff?” He turned and started back to his seat at the round cafeteria table. “You can call me God.”

Megan’s eyes grew wide, and she shot Adam a worried glance.

“Dad—”

“Just kidding.” His smile grew. “It’s my favorite joke. Gets ‘em every time.” He motioned to the chairs surrounding the table. “Have a seat.”

Bright colored cutouts of eggs and bunnies decorated the common area. A few baskets with plastic grass and pastel bows sat on tabletops and counters. His father seemed fairly lucid today, and Adam exhaled. Maybe things would go all right. “How’ve you been, Dad?”

“Just fine.” He rubbed the top of his head. “They treat me good here.” His eyes shifted around the room. “Except for Harry.”

“Yeah, I know you don’t like Harry. But you’re trying to get along, right?”

Al nodded, then patted Megan’s hand. “And how are you, sweetie?”

She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m doing fine.”

They chatted politely for a few minutes. Other patients and family members shuffled into the room, finding seats and getting ready for lunch. The tile floor and antiseptic smell always reminded him of a hospital.

His father cocked his head to the side and studied Megan. Then he turned to Adam. “When’s the wedding?”

Megan blushed and stammered. “I…uh, we…aren’t getting married.”

White hair bobbed as his father nodded vigorously. “Yes you are.” He stared at Megan. “You’re his soul mate.”

Heat crept up his neck. “Dad, stop. You’re embarrassing her.”

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