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“Please, Mommy?” Isla gave her a doe-eyed look. “I really want to see Granny and Gramps.”
Meghan ran the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip. When she looked at Rich, he had a half-smile on his face. He’d shaved this morning, and was looking every inch the successful, handsome doctor next door. Her dad would welcome him with open arms.
“Are you sure?”
“Certain.” He nodded, his blue eyes open and warm as a summer sky. “We’ll just need to move Isla’s booster seat to my car.”
Fifteen minutes later, they were on the open road. It was a beautiful late spring day. The sun was high in the sky, making the tips of the mountains in the distant look golden. Rich had opened the windows and the breeze whipped through their hair, making Isla giggle.
“My parents used to call it nature’s air conditioning,” Rich told Meghan. “It’d drive me crazy when I was a teenager. I just wanted to turn the damn blowers on.”
He hadn’t mentioned his parents since the day when he’d told her they were dead. Her mind sparked with curiosity, but she didn’t probe. Not least because little ears were listening.
When they reached the outskirts of White City, she pointed out the fast route to take to the suburb where her parents lived, telling him to ignore the GPS. Isla pointed out their old house, the school she used to go to before they moved to Angel Sands, and the little chapel set back from the road where her grandparents attended services once in the week and twice on Sundays.
When Rich pulled up outside her parents house, she wasn’t surprised to see her dad waiting on the porch. She’d phoned ahead to let them know they were running late, and that she’d be bringing a friend. When he saw who that friend was, her dad walked up to Rich and shook his hand.
“I never got a chance to thank you for looking after my little girl,” her dad said, his eyes warm as he smiled at Isla. “And now you’ve saved the day again.”
“I was just doing my job. Meghan’s the one who takes care of Isla.”
Her dad ignored his words, scooting down to hug his granddaughter, asking her questions about school, her foot, and whether she was reading her bible every night. Isla answered him happily, and then the front door opened and her mom bustled out.
She was wearing her usual Sunday dress, made of a pale green thick fabric that flared out at her waist in a fifties style. A floral apron was fastened over it, to save the dress from getting ruined by her cooking. “Come in, come in,” she urged, taking Isla by the hand. “I’m so happy you’re here. Meghan and Isla, why don’t you come with me and help in the kitchen. Gramps and your friend can put their feet up in the living room.”
Rich’s brows dipped. She hadn’t warned him that her parents had a traditional – bordering on ancient – type of relationship. One where her mom was firmly in the kitchen, and her father was the breadwinner and chief decision maker. She hadn’t worked out how to tell him in front of Isla, but now she felt her cheek
s warm up.
“Are you sure I can’t help you, too?” Rich asked her mom.
She shook her head. “Not at all. We ladies like to stick together, don’t we, Isla? I’ll have Meghan bring you both in some sweet tea. We’ll let you two talk about boy things.”
Rich raised a brow at Meghan and she shot him an embarrassed glance. He winked, and somehow it made her feel better.
Five minutes later, she was carrying a tray of sweet tea and cookies into the living room. The door was closed, and she could hear the low murmur of voices inside. So her dad and Rich were talking? Curiosity overcame her, and she leaned her head against the door, trying to make out their words.
“How long have you been a doctor, son?”
“It’s been about ten years since I graduated from medical school.” Rich’s voice was low. Easy. “I specialized in Emergency Medicine from the start, and have been working at St. Vincents ever since.”
“And you’re an attending physician?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“You must be very well respected in your field,” her dad said.
“I don’t know about that. I just know I love what I do. And it feels good to make a difference.”
Her dad cleared his throat. “You’re not married. Why is that?”
Meghan startled. Oh god, her dad must think they were dating. He was giving him the potential-boyfriend once over. How embarrassing.
“I’ve been kind of married to my job.” Rich didn’t sound phased at all, thank goodness. She really owed him one.
“Any vices? Debts?”
“I’m still paying off medical school, but that should be done with soon.” Was that a hint of amusement in Rich’s voice? He was going to tease her mercilessly about this. Taking a deep breath, Meghan opened the living room door with her elbow, and carried the tray to the coffee table in between Rich and her father, not meeting Rich’s eyes . She didn’t want to know what he was thinking. Or to find out he was judging her.
