“Thank you for having me.” She stepped past me and I caught a whiff of some sort of floral scent. She didn't wear it when we trained.
“My father's been quite eager to meet you,” I said and gestured for her to follow. “It's all he's talked about since he came home, getting to meet the person who saved his life.”
I was surprised to see a bit of a flush staining her cheeks.
“That embarrasses you?” I asked. “It's not like it's false praise. The doctors all said that if you hadn't done what you did, he wouldn't have made it.”
I paused at the French doors that led outside. While I'd first met her with the intention of thanking her for what she'd done, I just now realized that I hadn't thanked her at all. Not really.
“It's been just my dad and me since I was five,” I said, surprising myself with the admission. Surprised again as her dark brown eyes grew soft. “And I'm not an emotional person, but I can't deny that when I heard he was in the hospital, it scared me. So, thank you, for doing what you did.”
Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the world. A few strands of hair had escaped the twist that captured the rest of it, and I had the sudden impulse to pull the ebony lengths from its confines, let it spill down over her shoulders. I wondered what it would look like spread out on my pillow.
I asked the question that had been on my mind all weekend. “Did you have a good time with Tyrell on Friday?”
Her eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms. “How did you know I was out with Tyrell?”
Shit. “I overheard some people talking about it at the gym.” It was only a partial lie. I'd been trying to justify my interest to myself, but I doubted any of my arguments would hold water with Sara.
Fortunately, I didn't have to wait to see if she believed me or not.
“Stop keeping her for yourself, Dorian,” my father called from outside.
I opened the door and held it for Sara, giving her an exaggerated roll of my eyes. “Hold on, old man. We're coming.”
Sara laughed softly as she walked over to my dad and held out her hand. “Mr. Forbes, it's a pleasure to meet you.”
“Miss Carr, the pleasure is mine.” He kissed the back of her hand and gave me a mischievous look over her shoulder. “And, please, call me Max. Mr. Forbes is my son.”
I rolled my eyes. “She's too young for you, Dad.”
“Says who?” He grinned.
Sara looked from him to me and back again. “You two are quite the pair, aren't you?”
I pulled out her chair before taking my usual seat across from my father. Martha had really outdone herself with lunch. There were cold cuts and homemade rolls, fruit, salad, cole slaw, and three different kinds of desserts.
Home cooking was definitely one of the things I miss the most about going back home. Take-out was generally my lunch fare...and dinner.
“Dorian tells me that you're from San Francisco,” Dad began as he reached for a few apple slices.
“I am,” she said. She made herself a ham sandwich as she continued, “I moved there after my parents died.”
“I'm sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you.” She gave my dad a smile. “My uncle raised me after that.”
“What brought you to New York then?”
It seemed like I wouldn’t have to do anything except listen to get to know Sara if my father kept asking questions. When she finished with one, he brought up another. She answered easily enough, then fielded back her own questions. Though she directed everything to my father, I couldn't help but hope that her inquiries came from curiosity about me.
We stayed on the porch well after we'd finished eating. The weather was perfect and the view gorgeous. As much as there were things I enjoyed about living in the city, there was definitely something to be said for the tranquility that came from getting away from it all. When my father's health started to decline and he stepped down from running the company, I was surprised when he decided to live out here all the time rather than splitting time between the house and the city brownstone. I hadn't seen the appeal then, but now I could.
When I saw him starting to grow tired, I reluctantly cut into the conversation. As much as I wanted Sara to stay longer, I wouldn’t risk my father's health to do it. I meant what I said to her, about how I felt when I heard about my dad's heart attack. I wasn't ready to lose him.
“You need to rest,” I said as I stood. He glared at me, but there wasn't any fire behind it. “Do I need to get Martha out here?”
“That's just playing dirty,” he grumbled. He managed to get to his feet on his own, which was good because I knew he wouldn't be happy if I had to help him.