He Told Me to Choose Him or My Dementia-Stricken Father—So I Did

being. Try it sometime.”

Mark’s eyes narrowed.

“Fine,” he said tightly. “If you want to do this, then we do it.”

He reached into his pocket and tossed something onto the counter.

A key.

It clinked like a verdict.

Then he leaned close enough that I could smell his aftershave.

“You’re going to regret this,” he murmured. “When you’re exhausted. When you’re broke.continue reading …