Page 94 of Fierce-Baker

But his mother never called first without texting so he worried something more was going on.

“Hang on, Mom,” he said, putting the phone to his ear. “I’m going back to my office where it’s quiet.”

He waved to one of his men to come over and pick up where he left off, then moved off the floor, down the hall, and shut the door to his office.

“Can you talk?” his mother asked.

He barely kept the roll from his eyes, and sure the hell didn’t stop clenching his teeth. “I can now. I hope it’s important.”

“Dad is sick.”

He closed his eyes and sat back in his chair, the squeaking telling him he needed to let up the weight or he’d topple over.

“Sick how? Like has a cold sick? A disease sick? Dying?”

He didn’t want to be a cold asshole, but his mother exaggerated things at the best of times.

His mother sniffled and the dread crept in slow and sure, settling into his gut and told him they were in for the long haul just when he was getting somewhere in his life.

Somewhere happy and secure.

“He’s got an enlarged prostate.”

“Huh? That’s it? Not cancer, it’s just enlarged. So like what? He has trouble pissing?”

Hadn’t his mother said that months ago? He’d figured his father got some dick disease by putting it where it didn’t belong.

“Yes. He says it’s painful. We are looking into options. It’s been going on for a while. He’s really embarrassed. He feels as if it makes him less manly. That’s why he was cheating, but he stopped. He really did.”

“Don’t throw that excuse at me. Dad has been cheating most of your marriage. I’m not sure why he even has to come up with reasons anymore.”

“That’s not nice, Baker. This is serious.”

He was typing into his laptop while he talked. He’d see how serious it really was, but in his mind it wasn’t that big of a deal.

It’s not like it was a life sentence.

“Not from what I’m looking at. What did the doctor say? That maybe he should get off his butt and go for a walk and change his diet? Cut back on the alcohol?”

His mother’s sigh was loud enough she might as well have shouted at him. “Yes. All those things. I’ve been telling him for years and he calls me a nag. Now he doesn’t think so. I’m looking up all the new recipes to make.”

Working harder than she ever had before, most likely.

“He needs to take those steps, not you busting your ass for him. If he’s not willing to help himself, then you shouldn’t.”

“He needs me though.”

He rolled his eyes. “That’s all the doctor is doing? Diet and lifestyle changes?”

“No. He’s got to go on medication. But there are side effects to the medication,” his mother whispered.

“Is Dad home right now?”

“No.”

“Then why are you whispering? And what are the side effects?”

“It’s embarrassing to say.”