Page 63 of Betting on the Bad Boy
Meemaw groaned. “Tell me, my boy, who came to visit me in the hospital? I want to know who my real friends are.”
As I filled her in on all the news her visitors had shared, Cheryl stopped by with a tray of food.
“Here you go, Mrs. Bishop.” She set it down on the table. “Soft foods without too much flavor. Doctor’s orders.”
“Cheryl Kincaid? Maybe I knocked my head harder than I thought.” Meemaw pursed her lips and looked from me to Cheryl and back again.
“Cheryl’s a nurse here at the hospital.” I picked up the plastic spoon and dipped it into the runny cup of Jell-O. “She’s been taking care of you for the past couple of days.”
Meemaw glared at Cheryl. “Never thought I’d see the two of you in the same room again.”
Cheryl looked down at her feet. “I don’t know what to say, Mrs. Bishop. What happened between me and Dante… well, that was a long time ago.”
“Not long enough that I’ve forgotten how you broke my poor grandson’s heart?—”
“That’s enough now.” I lifted the spoon toward Meemaw’s mouth.
“I thought they wanted me to get better.” Meemaw scowled, taking the spoon from me and shoving it into her mouth. “This stuff is liable to make me feel worse.”
I glanced at Cheryl’s shocked expression and stifled a laugh. “She kind of calls it like she sees it.”
“I remember.” Cheryl smiled and grabbed the pitcher off the table. “I’ll just go get you a refill on this.”
After she’d left the room, Meemaw glanced over at me. “What’s going on with you and Nurse Ratched?”
“Nurse Ratched, huh? Don’t you think that’s a little extreme, even for you?” I nudged the tray of food closer to her on the table.
Meemaw dipped her spoon into the bowl. “That girl is bad news, my boy.”
“If I can get over it, so can you. Aren’t you always telling me to forgive and forget?”
“Hmpf.” Meemaw slid the Jell-O around in her mouth and swallowed. “I was talking about the time when Irene tried to pass off my famous checkerboard pie as her own recipe. That girl caused you so much pain.”
“I said I’m over it.” I sighed. Iwasover Cheryl Kincaid. It had taken me almost ten years and I still wouldn’t consider the possibility of progressing beyond a casual fling with a woman, but for the most part, I’d patched my heart back together andforgiven her for screwing around on me with my best friend during my junior year of high school.
Meemaw wrinkled her nose. “Her grandmother stops in at the center from time to time. I thought she was running around with that no-good Jamie Casper.”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve barely seen her since high school.”
“Well, I’d steer clear of her.”
“Trust me, I have no intention of starting anything with Cheryl. Now why don’t you try some of these mashed potatoes?”
“You trying to poison me?” Her eyes widened. “I guaran-damn-tee you these came from a box.”
“One serving of instant potatoes won’t kill you.”
“Fine.” Meemaw scooped a tiny bit of potatoes onto her spoon and studied it before sliding it into her mouth. “How are things going with Faith?”
“Faith?” My cheeks flushed.
“Dante, surely you remember the sweet girl you got frisky with on Thanksgiving?”
My jaw dropped.
“Close your mouth, my boy. Anyone could see the sparks flying between the two of you.” She pointed her plastic spoon at me. “Including Lorraine. And she’s legally blind in one eye. Probably both, if you ask me.”
“Things with Faith are, um, good. She flew home for Christmas.”
