I'm still a little worried about my grandma. Maybe I can just explain the situation to her. I'm so concerned that it might stress her out, and that's something she doesn't need right now.
She seems to be so weak lately that she doesn't need all this burden.
I hate that I didn't realize how truly unwell she's been.
I should have been coming home more, but every time I called, she always said she was fine.
It wasn't until recently that I found out things haven't really been all that fine after all.
And now my father truly has some leverage over me—the one thing he can use to control me.
I'm starting to wonder what he has over Sam Peterson. Sam Peterson and I have never been particularly close, both going off to different boarding schools, and him being eight years older than me. His life was busy when he worked up in the city, and even when I could make it out to see him, he always had his head buried deep into whatever case he was working on.
I haven't had much time to talk to him since I've gotten back. I was being pulled in so many directions, we didn't have time to catch up. We're going to have to sit down and work some things out because there's no way I'm going to let Dad keep me from Grandma, and more than likely I'll need Sam Peterson's help.
Dr. Davies sat me on the counter, making me squirm on the cold granite top. "Sorry, Duchess." He reached for a shirt hanging off the bar stool at the breakfast bar, sliding it over my head. "I love seeing you unadorned, but I don't want you to be cold either." Leaning in, he gently kissed my mouth. "Are you feeling any discomfort?" His eyes softened, and I could see the concern in his face. "I was very intense."
"I've never felt more complete." I smiled when I said the words because they were true. I felt so happy with him, like I was home. "And thank you," I said, looking down at the worn shirt with an old car on it. I loved it more than any piece of clothing I owned. It was completely him, complete with what looked like an old grease stain. Even better, it smelled like him.
"You never have to thank me. Caring for you is what I'm meant to do." He ran his thumb across my lip before pulling away.
"What do you feel like eating, Duchess?" he asked, pulling open the refrigerator door.
"You cook?" I couldn't picture him working his way around a kitchen. A car, sure, but making spaghetti? Not so much.
"When I've got ingredients, I can, but I've been too busy to get to the store. Someone has had me preoccupied all over town." He turned to smile at me as he pulled eggs and cheese from the fridge.
It was crazy how easy this felt. Like we had been doing it forever. Maybe when it's right, that's just how it is. I didn't have much experience with men, but my grandma told me when you find the right man, you just know.
I kept getting worried that she was going to ask me if Mr. Peterson was the one, but she hadn't. Maybe she just thought he was. Why else would I agree to marry him?
"Hope you like egg-and-cheese sandwiches. We can run to the store and stock up tomorrow on some provisions. I plan on keeping you with me for the next few days."
Butterflies took flight in my stomach at the word 'our.' He was acting like I was never leaving. Maybe I wasn't. I didn't think I would be able to go home when my father found out I wasn't marrying Mr. Peterson.
It was all so simple here. I glanced around, taking in Dr. Davies' home. It was warm and cozy. Hardwood floors ran throughout, with deep gray-blue walls. The floor plan was open, with the kitchen off to the side of the living room, and a big dining room to the other side of the kitchen. A giant fireplace took up one wall, with silver tiles surrounding it.
One thing I had always disliked about my family home was that it was too large. I loved the idea of being able to cook in the kitchen and still be able to talk to someone lying on the couch. I could easily picture a family here.
Me in the kitchen cooking dinner, Dr. Davies lying on the couch watching a baseball game and talking to me while I cooked. The kids at the dining-room table, doing their homework before dinner. It made me long for something I never knew I wanted. Being here with Dr. Davies, it was all so clear.
"What's making you have that expression?" I turned back from my domestic fantasies and studied him. If he meant half of what he said when he took me to bed hours ago, then maybe we were on the same page.
"How many?"
"How many what?" I asked.
"Children."
I ran my hands down his tattooed arms, pulling him closer. He set a plate down on the counter next to me and wrapped his arms around my waist.
"Three."
"Only three?" he teased, and I was relieved that the fairy tale I had just dreamed up moments ago felt so close. I could almost reach out and touch it, or maybe it was already in my grasp.
"Let's start there. We still have challenges ahead," I reminded him.
"It's time to start talking." He jumped up on the counter with me, handing me one of the sandwiches he had just made, and I explained everything to him while we ate.
"I'll figure it out. He can't prevent you from seeing your grandma."
"I'm not so sure. Mr. Peterson's the family lawyer, and I have no idea who controls what. I've never had to worry about it before, and I know my father has some powerful friends, Dr. Davies. I just—"
"Darling, calm down." He jumped back off the counter, cupping my face between his hands. "I promise you. I won't let him keep her from you. I told you, I'll give you everything you've ever wanted, and if you want to see your grandma, you'll see your grandma."