Page 84 of Call Me Mrs. Taylor

I should just hand over the flowers and the bag and be on my merry way, but my feet move before my mind decides.

I step inside.

The air in the house is thick, almost stagnant, with a faint medical scent that’s much too familiar for me.

I’m not staying long.

It’s quiet. I glance around, noting the neat, homey feel of the house. Framed pictures, frilly lace curtains, table lamps, a glass bowl full of peppermint candies on the coffee table—but it kinda feels like a relic, or a time capsule. Frozen in time, maybe 2005.

I wonder when her mother left.

“I didn’t catch your name,” I say to the young lady. As soon as it’s out of my mouth, my eyes land on the name embroidered on her scrubs. Faith.

She gives me an embarrassed smile. “I’m Faith. I take care of Mr. Ashford.”

That makes me pause. “Her father?”

“…Yes,” she says, like she knows she’s said too much. She tilts her head, trying to read me. “She didn’t tell you?

At this point, I’m more surprised when Rayadoestell me shit.

But I just say, “Tell me what?”

Faith doesn’t answer. Instead, she starts down the hall. “I actually need to check on him. I’ll be right back.”

A slow uneasy feeling creeps up my spine as I watch her disappear down the hall. I set the flowers and the bag on the couch and follow her, moving slowly.

Something is off. Raya never once mentioned that her father needed a nurse. It’s not the kind of thing she would need to hide. There’s no shame in that. No judgment. So, what the fuck? Another secret.

The realization sits in my stomach like a brick.

She crosses the threshold into the room. I wait a few seconds, then creep up to the door. When I peer around the corner, her back is to me, and I can see wheels a few inches from her feet.

When Faith steps away, a man in a wheelchair comes into view. His skin is sunken, his eyes dull and hollow. A thin blanket covers his lap, but even from where I stand, I can tell his legs are frail.

Why the fuck would she not mention this to me, even in passing? It’s not a big deal, but it’s a big fucking deal.

She doesn’t want me to know her, which is just my luck, because she’s the first woman I’ve wanted to know in as long as I can remember.

Shit—

His eyes are on me.

The hair on my arms stands up, but I push past the doorway to greet him anyway. My mama taught me manners.

“How you doin’, sir? I’m Ace.”

His yellow eyes blink slowly, not moving from my face.

I stop when I’m close enough to shake his hand.

“I don’t know if Raya mentioned me,” I say with an uneasy laugh, “but, we’re dating. I wanted to introduce myself. Out of respect.”

His fingers twitch against the blanket. I’m just getting ready to lift my hand when he reaches out and grabs my arm.

His grip is weak but urgent, his bony fingers tightening like he’s hanging on for dear life. His mouth moves, but no sound comes out. His eyes are wild and filled with something I can’t place—pleading, maybe. Desperation. Fear.

I pull back slightly. “Hey, man, you good?”

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