She leaned against my shoulder and closed her eyes. “I feel sick,” she muttered.
“You probably do need something to eat. Did you have much at Max’s?”
She shook her head. “A bit but not enough. I could just do with a sandwich and hot tea maybe.”
“You know he’ll be fine, Payts,” I said. “They’ll find out what’s caused it and treat it. He’ll have to change some of his lifestyle like your mum said, but he’ll be fine.”
“I know. It’s just the first time I’ve had to think about anything happening to my parents. It’s a shock,” she said, keeping her head on my arm.
I moved in closer, picking her up and pulling her onto my lap, knowing that this was over and beyond the friend zone. “It is, but he will be okay. You and Killian did a great job back there.”
“So did you,” she whispered, looking up at me, a couple of tears slipping from her eyes and down her cheeks. “I saw you reassuring everyone and keeping Seph out of the way. And then talking to Claire.”
I pressed my lips to her hair then resting my chin on her head. “Food, drink, see your dad and then home?”
“Yes. All of that.”
* * *
We grabbed tea and a couple of slices of something just labelled ‘cake’ in a small volunteer run café, sitting next to each other instead of opposite. Our phones continually dinged with messages from the Callaghans and others in a group that I had been added to. There were explanations of angiograms and MRA’s and jokes about how mad Grant would be when his drinking was limited and he had to exercise, plus various cartoons and GIFs Seph and Callum found and distributed that poked fun at their father’s expense.
“I’m nervous about seeing him,” Payton said after several minutes of staring into her mug.
“Why?” I asked.
“I’m scared he won’t look like my dad. When I was little I visited my dad’s uncle in hospital after he’d had a big heart attack and he looked all in on himself and tiny and old. Before the ambulance came, my dad looked different, not like him. I’m scared of what my reaction will be like if he doesn’t look like my dad,” she said, speaking it all in one breath.
I slipped my arm round her. “Let’s go see him. Because if he looked anything like you’re worrying about, Marie would’ve warned you. You know that.” I stood up and offered her my hand, knowing she thrived from physical contact, the reassurance of touch. We walked through the hospital corridors, passing other visitors and patients in wheelchairs or walking up to Ward C-Four. Marie was talking animatedly to the nurses and waved at us, pointing in the direction of Grant’s room.
The door was slightly ajar, her father sitting up in bed, watching a replay of a rugby match on a sports channel. He looked tired, but other than that, he seemed healthy.
“Ava said you’d be up to see me,” he said, muting the TV. “She was having a complete fluster about how she’d never been so scared and listing all the things she’d thought. Basically, she talked non-stop at me so me, Eli and Jacks ignored her for ten minutes and watched the rugby. It was a good game.”
“Your words make sense,” Payton said. “Thank fuck for that.”
“Swearing is not lady-like,” Grant said smiling at her. “Come here and give me a hug and then we don’t have to talk about what happened.”
She laughed and went to him, landing in his arms. He kissed her hair and muttered something to her, making her giggle again.
“How do you feel?” she said, sitting down on a chair. I leaned against the arm, watching him carefully.
“Tired. I can’t wait to go to sleep and for your mother to clear off and stop talking about healthy recipes and going to some stupid cookery course. Do you remember the last time she tried to follow a recipe?”
“I think you suggested a good divorce lawyer to her,” Payton said. “We can discuss your eating habits after you’ve seen the doctor tomorrow.” She was trying to sound firm but I knew if he’d asked her right now to smuggle several donuts in, she’d agree. That was going to be the problem.
Grant nodded and looked at me. “Thank you for looking after this one,” he said and I felt my body go rigid. I’d met a few of my exes’ fathers and I’d had the ‘don’t fuck with my daughter’ conversation on a couple of occasions. Thankfully, Amber’s father had been more of a ‘would you like to share a joint’ type guy and I honestly didn’t think he’d felt the need to protect his little girl from any bad boys. And really, Amber had balls of steel bigger than mine, so she hadn’t needed her father to defend her.
“She’s more than capable of looking after herself,” I said. “But it was good to be able to help.”
Grant smiled at me. “Ten points for the correct answer. She’s more than capable, but that doesn’t mean she has to look after herself all of the time.”
“You can stop talking about me as if I’m not here now,” Payton said. Our phones chimed and she checked hers. “Max is on the way with some of your stuff. He’s bringing sweat pants and T-shirts so you don’t scare the nurses in that hospital gown.”
Grant glared at her and straightened the blanket that he was using to hide what he was wearing. “Lovely. As long as I have some access to the internet so I can find out what they’re going to prod me with tomorrow. Go home now, Payts. You look worse that I do.”
“Thanks!” She looked to me. “I’ll just drag Mum away from nagging the nurses and let her know we’re going.”
She scarpered, leaving me with her father who looked at me through eyes the same as Payton’s. “Just friends, my ass,” he said.
