When I burst into the house, familiar smells envelop me. Garlic. Wood polish. A hint of my mom’s perfume—orange blossom and vanilla.
“Chellie!” My mother’s voice rings out when she peeps out at us from the kitchen. “He’s resting. He says he’s fine. I made him tea and chicken soup. He’s sogrumpy.”
Her eyes flick to Seamus behind me.
“Oh.” She wipes her hands on a dish towel. “You brought a handsome young man.”
“This is Seamus,” I say. “He’s a…colleague helping me with my case. I was upset and he offered to drive me here.”
Seamus smiles and steps forward, extending a hand. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Delgado.”
“Call me Ana.” She assesses him. “You’re very tall.”
He laughs. “So I’ve been told.”
“He’s a doctor—in his residency,” I add, and her eyebrows shoot up.
She blatantly looks him up and down. “No wonder we haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Mama!” I’m mortified.
Seamus stifles a grin.
My father’s voice cuts from the living room. “Ana, who’s here?”
I rush to him before he can get up from the couch, crouching at his side. His face is pale, drawn. His eyes are as sharp as a knife.
“Hi, Papa.” A tear leaks from the corner of my eye.
He brushes his fingers over my hair. “You didn’t have to come all the way out here.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I lean my head on his chest.
He kisses my head. “I’m fine.”
“You need to take care of yourself. I won’t survive if you’re not around. What did they tell you?” I love my dad so much, this is such a wake-up call to spend more time with the people who are most important to me.
He sighs. “Give me my bourbon and let me die in peace.”
“Luis,” my mother scolds.
Seamus steps forward, hands in his pockets. “If it’s okay, I can take a look at your discharge papers. I’m happy to answer any questions you might have.”
“And you are?” My father lifts a brow then looks to me.
“Chellie’s boyfriend. He’s a doctor.” My mother’s voice further humiliates me.
I’m about to correct her when Seamus sits on the ottoman across from him. “Yes, sir.”
“You look like you should still be in school.” He scrunches his lips together.
“Papa.” I squeeze my eyes shut, mortified.
“Technically, I am. Fourth year neurosurgery resident.” Seamus chuckles. “Fair enough on the age thing. I get it a lot.”
My mother hands Seamus a manila envelope, and he scans the pages quickly. “Your blood pressure was high. They’ll want to monitor you for a while. They probably started you on aspirin?”
“Yep,” my dad confirms.
