Page 121 of The Tryst

“You like cards?”

“Card shark in the house,” she says, tapping her chest. “Can you play gin rummy?”

I scoff. “Can I play gin rummy? What do you take me for?”

She stares at me. “Well? Can you?”

I open the deck and deal.

* * *

An hour later, I’ve been destroyed by the woman in the hospital bed. She’s beaten me hand after hand, all while eating a sad-looking burger and sadder tater tots. The carrots, sagging in the middle of the plate, remain untouched.

The clock ticks closer to seven, and I don’t want to overstay my welcome. “Well, I should get out of here.”

She smiles and nods. “David is on his way.”

Ah, so she knows that my son won’t want to see me.

Another punch to the gut.

But I take the hint, grabbing my phone, and heading to the door. Before I go, she calls out, “Mr. Adams.”

I pause in the doorway. “Yes?”

“Thank you. And, um, keep trying.”

That lessens the blow, but only a little. “I will.”

When I head down the hall, David’s walking toward me, eyes narrowed. He stops a foot away. He’s tall, like me, so we’re eye to eye. “You gonna try and sleep with her too?”

What the hell? Anger rises in me, a thick, hot plume. But I keep my voice low and controlled. “I didn’t raise you to speak to people like that,” I tell him, though I’m seething inside.

I don’t fight with low blows. And he’d better not either. With me or anyone.

He huffs out hard, like a bull.

I’m not done, though. I go full dad and say, “Do better.”

He swallows roughly, and there’s a flicker of embarrassment in his eyes. Maybe even shame. Then, he disappears into Cynthia’s room.

“Hey, babe,” I hear him say, and he’s clearly happy to see her.

“Hi,” she says brightly.

He’s happy now. That’s what matters. Not whether or not he’s happy with me.

That’s what I tell myself the whole way home.

41

A DIFFERENT NOTE

Nick

In the morning, I wake to soft blonde hair fanned out on my pillow and a warm woman curled up in my arms. Layla rustles the sheets against me. I kiss the back of her neck.

“More,” she whispers.