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Adrian was in the room when I returned. He gave me a big smile and came to hug me.
“Morris told me you didn’t leave,” he said, scowling.
“I dozed off,” I told him.
“I brought breakfast.” He pointed at the takeout on the table.
Mrs. Sanchester was already feeding Tristan. I tried not to laugh at the way she was giving him the food like a baby. Tristan looked mortified. He tried to collect the food from her, but she wouldn’t let him.
“I will drop you off on my way to work. You don’t have a choice. You need to rest.”
I drank the iced coffee after I was done eating the doughnuts and bagels.
“Thanks,” I told him with a satisfied grin.
I glanced at Tristan, and our eyes met instantly. I looked away quickly and gulped down a bottle of water.
The look on his face was unreadable. Why did I keep feeling like he’d seen more than he let on?
Tristan was discharged a week later,but he wasn’t allowed to return to work. According to Adrian, he had overdosed on pain and antidepressant pills. There were moments I wanted to ask him about his promise to tell my family the truth, but I decided to give him a few days to recover from what had happened. I made it my job to check on him once in a while. I wasn’t going to let him die without telling me the truth. He spent all his time in the study and the kitchen. I had noticed how much he enjoyed cooking.
If Tristan had seen what was on my back, then he didn’t care. He had not asked me about it—not like we talked about anything or conversed like normal people.
Adrian came over on Saturday. He spent half of the day with Tristan, briefing him on everything going on in the company, while I was on the phone with Vina, who wanted me to sneak into the garden, where Adrian and Tristan were engrossed in a deep conversation, so she could stare at Adrian from our video call.
The things you do for your best friend.
I decided to go downstairs for dinner after my stomach grumbled. Morris usually came up to call me when dinner was all set, but it was almost eight p.m., and I had not seen him. The dining room was empty as I walked in. Had I missed dinner?
I heard a clattering sound from the kitchen.
“Morris?” I called, walking into the kitchen.
“He is off today. It’s his granddaughter’s birthday,” Tristan said.
I paused at the doorway to the kitchen and watched him as he chopped some vegetables like a skilled chef. I couldn’t even hold a knife.
“Hungry?” he asked, taking a glance at me.
I was starving, and there was no denying he was a good cook.
“Who says no to food?” I said, walking to the marble island.
I took one slice of a cucumber from a glass bowl, watching him as he mixed the salad.
“Did you go to culinary school?” I asked.
“No, self-taught. My dream was to own a restaurant, but I had to take over my father’s company,” he said, bringing out a frying pan.
I felt my mouth watering at the sizzling sound of cheese and black cod. The spices filled my nostrils. I leaned on the counter and watched him until he was done. It was fascinating, watching how he set everything neatly and gently on a plate like it was delicate.
He placed the plate in front of me and gave me a fork. “Would you like anything to drink?”
“No,” I said.
He nodded and turned to walk away. He paused and leaned on the counter for support. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. He looked weak from all the work. I knew he wasn’t fully recovered yet. Too bad he’d chosen a girl who couldn’t cook.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
