Chapter Eighty two

New year's eve found us in New York.

My father was elated to see us. Despite how worrisomely pale he looked, he went about with gaiety and made us comfortable.

We arrived early that morning and by midday we were lazing around in my dad's living room.

I was seated next to Damien even as my father narrated some of his humorous stories about my childhood to my husband. I was so embarrassed when he reminded me of the time I had fourteen deviled eggs that had stayed overnight and ended up going through the most uncomfortable stooling experience I've ever had.

"Papa esto es tan vergonzoso!" I whined, obviously a blushing mess. (Dad, this is so embarrassing!)

He laughed boisterously and it led him into fits of coughs. I rushed to his side and had him drink a glass of water but what I saw had me setting the cup aside as I stared at him in a mix of shock, worry and fear.

"Dad, blood! You're coughing out blood!" I pointed out in terror, glued to the spot I stood on.

Damien rushed to my si