The bartender with the magenta hair was off that night. A bland man who did little more than lean against the bar replaced her, watching people come and go. I was grateful, not sure of my ability to talk after spending the day by Dad’s side.
Nurses showed up late in the afternoon, minutes after Uncle Ricardo arrived home from work. I hated to admit it, but I got the hell out of there as fast as I could. I was glad I was there and wouldn’t have passed up the chance to be with Dad during his final days. But it wasn’t easy.
I sipped red wine and processed the events of the last few days. Dad’s ability to read my mind always baffled me, especially now after all these years apart. Maybe he was right. I needed to focus on other things besides business and money. But love? Could I allow somethi
