Wanted her to have another piece of me. To own part of the past that made me who I was.
“I shouldn’t,” she started. “It’s too much . . . your mother’s.”
“Please.” I captured her hands in mine, enclosing the blue box within our grasp. “For me?”
She looked up at me with tear-filled eyes.
I caught a tear with my thumb. “I thought maybe you could wear them to the wedding. If Felicia hasn’t picked out other jewelry for you to wear.”
“No,” she said, and I feared she was rejecting my gift. “She said she doesn’t care.”
Silence filled the break room and I held my breath as I waited for her to say something else.
“Thank you,” she finally said. “I love them. I feel . . . really honored.”
“My mother would want you to have them,” I said, certain of the fact. “I wish she could have met you. She would love you.”
She smiled at me. The gorgeous smile that brightened my day in ways nothing else could. “I wish I could have met her, too.”
I wrapped my arms around her, wordlessly, and her hands came up to my shoulders, the box still in her grip.
“I love you,” I whispered, kissing her ear. “I’d give you the world if I could, but I’ll settle by offering little slivers of myself.”
“I love it when you offer me slivers of yourself,” she said. “Besides, I don’t want the world. I want you.”
I pulled back and kissed her. Long and slow and deep. She tugged me close, running her free hand through my hair, her hips pressed against mine.
Someone at the door cleared their throat, and Abby pulled away, but she kept her arms around me.
“Yes?” she asked the teenaged girl who’d opened the door without either one of us hearing.
“Sorry to interrupt, Miss Abby, but I’m supposed to tell you the computer’s no longer printing out 2007 due dates.”
“Good news,” Abby said. “But why did that require my attention?”
“It’s printing out 1807.”
Abby sighed. “I’ll be right there.”
The young girl left. “Sorry again,” she called through the closed door.
Abby dropped her head to my chest.
“Don’t ask.”
I kissed her forehead. “I better go. Let you deal with the nineteenth century.”
She lifted to her toes and kissed me. “Trust me, the nineteenth century wants nothing to do with me.”
“Call me tonight, okay?”
“I will,” she said, lightly brushing a hair out of my eyes. “I love you.”
I smiled when the doorbell rang at six thirty on Thursday night. Leave it to Abby to ring the doorbell of my house when she’d be moving in in a little more than a week. I knew she’d told her dad she planned to move in, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous about meeting the man.
Apollo rushed to the door, guessing Abby waited for him on the other side.
“Calm down,” I said, wondering how quickly it would take for him to get used to having her around permanently.
I opened the door and decided I’d never grow accustomed to having her live with me. Even having her over for dinner seemed too good to be true.
I took her hands and kissed her cheek, noticing she wore the earrings I’d given her. “You didn’t have to ring the doorbell. I wouldn’t have minded if you’ d used your key.”
She gave my hand a squeeze and returned the kiss. “Old habit.” She stepped back and directed me to the man at her side. “This is my dad.”
He was a strong, solid man. I knew from Abby he worked as a contractor and had done so for more than twenty years. I shook his hand. “Mr. King,” I said. “Welcome to New York.”
“Don’t call me Mr. King,” he said, a small smile playing on his features. “And thank you.”
I held the door open wider. “Please come in. Excuse Apollo. He’s a bit shy around strangers.”
True to form, Apollo stayed stuck to my side, moving only to nudge Abby’s hand when she passed him. I smiled, remembering how he’d reacted to meeting her the first time. His reaction to her father was much more normal. My eyes met Abby’s, and I nodded toward him.
She rubbed his head as she walked into the foyer, rolling her eyes at me. “Can I help with anything in the kitchen?”
“I have the beef Wellington and potatoes in the oven,” I said. She’d told me her dad was a meat-and- potatoes type of man, and I’d planned dinner around his preferences.
“Beef Wellington?” She arched an eyebrow. “Maybe I should go check it out?”
“Your father and I will be in the living room.” Better to get this out of the way sooner rather than later.
We sat down—me on the couch, her dad on the love seat. He looked around the room, appraising. I gathered he was a quiet man, much like his daughter.
I cleared my throat. “Abby says you’re going to give Felicia away on Saturday.”
“Felicia has been like a second daughter to me. She’s had her share of hardships. I’m glad she’s finally found someone.”
“Jackson’s completely in love with her. He’s never been happier.”
He smiled, and I saw the kindness in his eyes, the warmth, and knew Abby inherited more than her quiet nature from her father. “From what Abby tells me, Felicia and Jackson aren’t the only ones,” he said.
Okay. The straightforwardness I wasn’t expecting. Abby had not inherited that.
My mind spun frantically, and I tried desperately to think of how to respond.
Not sure that was the entire truth, considering what I told Abby I’d do to her the next time I had her in my playroom.
Did I really think he would look at a closed door and say, “Hey, what’s in there?”
No, I didn’t.
But still. He
“I understand she’s moving in with you next weekend?” he asked.
I pulled myself up straighter and did my best to ignore the sweat running down my back. This was worse than high school prom. What if he forbade Abby to move in? Would he do that? What would I do if I became the cause of more strife between Abby and her father?
The words rushed out. “I have nothing but honorable intentions toward your daughter, sir.” I cringed.
He waved his hand in dismissal. “I know you’re a successful man, Nathaniel, and I know Abby has a good head on her shoulders. I’m not going to say I’m altogether pleased with how quickly this is moving or that I’m happy with this whole living-together arrangement.” He gave me a look, and I wondered how much he knew of my past with Abby. “But I remember the joy of sharing my life with someone.”
Abby had said he’d been alone for a long time.
“So while I’m not altogether pleased,” he said, “I’ll overlook it for Abby’s sake. If you make her happy, well, all I’ve ever wanted is for her to find happiness.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said, strangely relieved. “I, too, want nothing but Abby’s happiness.”
“Hell,” he said. “Don’t call me
I laughed, and the conversation shifted seamlessly to football.
