I tell him, “I’ll clean this mess up tomorrow. No worries.”
“As you wish.”
I want to know something important and ask, “Your grandfather…How is the cancer going?”
“Eating him alive. I don’t foresee him being with us much longer.”
“I’m sorry. It’s so sad and heartbreaking.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m here for you.”
He kisses my cheek again. “Forget this kind of talk. This party is about you. Only you, Tim. It’s about celebration.”
“But your grandfather,” I whisper.
He slips fingertips over my lips. “No buts.”
Poe’s done with his five-man pile-up and finds us in the fractional darkness, among the clutter around our feet. “Gentlemen, what’s going on here? Should I know? Should I not know? I’m sure it’s none of my business. I do know that some of the guests are looking for you, Tim. After all
