Frankie:Yeah.
Gemma: Where did the coffee spill? All over his shirt? Please tell me it was transparent, and you have photos of it clinging to his chest.
Frankie: Gemma!
Gemma: What do you expect? I’m a reality TV romance junkie.
Frankie: *slapping head emoji*
Frankie:It spilled all over his jeans in the worst imaginable spot.
Gemma:*laughing emoji* Thatisbad.
Frankie: I know.
Gemma: He’ll get over it eventually.
Frankie: I hope so. I apologized and offered to run out and buy him another coffee, but all he could do was glare at me and say, “You’ve done more than enough damage.” You should’ve seen his face. I actually considered running back to my car. I hope I don’t see him again anytime soon. I’m so embarrassed.
Gemma: It could only happen to you. Have you found out who he is yet?
Frankie: I know. Just my luck, right? And no. I still have no idea. I’ll text you more about it later.
Gemma: You got it. Are we still on to video chat Sunday?
Frankie:One hundred percent. I can’t wait to hear more about Australia. I’m starving for gossip.
Frankie stowed her phone into the outside pocket of her black handbag.
“How’s Gemma?” her dad asked.
“She’s well. They’re in Canberra, Australia, for the next couple of days.”
A door creaked open. “Robert Tomlinson.” A physician’s assistant in blue floral scrubs read off her dad’s name from the clipboard.
They both stood.
The kindly woman smiled. “If you’ll follow me into exam room number four. We just need a quick blood pressure reading, then I’ll let Dr. Kaur know you’re here.”
Frankie trailed her dad and the PA through a door and down the hall to a small room that smelled of disinfectant. Posters displayed the anatomy of the hip joint. She took a seat on one of the plastic chairs across from the cushioned table as the assistant slipped a black blood-pressure cuff over his left bicep.
The woman made idle chatter. Frankie squeezed her knees together, forcing herself to think positive thoughts. She hoped his latest X-ray was clear and that he was still healing on schedule. She worried that his balance hadn’t improved much since the last checkup.
The monitor beeped. “One-forty over eighty-three. A little high, but it could just be because you’re in the office today. BPs are always elevated in this type of environment.” The woman scribbled down his numbers and unfastened the Velcro. “Any problems with your medication? Any swelling or new pains?”
Her dad shook his head. “Nope. Everything’s great.”
Frankie’s fingers itched. He wasn’t being entirely truthful. He’d been a lot more tired and irritable than normal. She bit her lip. Should she say anything?
“Great. I’ll let Dr. Kaur know you’re here and she’ll be in shortly.”
They were left alone.
“Dad . . .” she started. “You have been really tired lately. Make sure you mention that if the doctor asks you.”
He frowned. “Frankie, it’s just me getting older. I sleep more than I used to. I can’t stay up past eight any longer.”
“Dad. Mention it anyway, please. For me.”
