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“Your aunt invited me a coffee,” he explains, taking another sip of coffee. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not,” my aunt says with a smirk pulling up her lips. The traitor. “She’s just surprised, that’s all.”
“Surprises can be fun,” he teases, his smile never wavering. “Besides, it’s nice to see you in better circumstances.”
Maybe, I think to myself,the future holds more surprises than I ever imagined.
“Spencer, dear, you must be tired after your day shopping,” Aunt Fiona says, sliding a plate of warm pastries in front of me. “Why don’t you sit down and tell us all about it?”
“Thanks, Aunt Fiona,” I reply, my stomach grumbling at the delightful aroma of her freshly baked treats. As I bite, my mind begins to race with conflicting thoughts. “I found a set of amazing nightstands. I thought they would look beautiful in my room, but they will sell well, and you know…” I say, trying to focus on the conversation.
“Your aunt told me you’re an amazing artist,” Percival chimes in, leaning forward with genuine curiosity. “What do they look like?”
“Well, they’re made of solid wood with intricate carvings on the sides. They’re really beautiful,” I describe, feeling my cheeks flush under his intense gaze while knowing my aunt will take over and translate for him.
“Sounds like you found a treasure,” he compliments, flashing that charming smile of his.
“Spencer has always had an eye for finding hidden gems,” Aunt Fiona adds affectionately, patting my hand.
As the conversation continues, I’m increasingly drawn to Percival’s captivating presence. At the same time, my desire for independence gnaws at me; having a private moment with a man is challenging.
“Spencer, are you okay?” Percival asks, noticing the faraway look in my eyes.
“Uh…” I answer hastily, forcing a smile. “Just lost in thought for a moment.”
“Thinking about those nightstands?” he teases, with a laugh I wish my ears would register.
“Something like that,” I write, my internal struggle deepening as I wrestle with the magnetic pull of Percival and my yearning for self-sufficiency.
“Listen, Spencer,” he says, his gaze turning soft. “I know we barely know each other, but I’d love to learn more about you. If you’ll let me, of course.”
My heart races as I weigh my options, torn between the allure of this enigmatic man and the independence I’ve always sought. As I glance at Aunt Fiona’s encouraging smile and Percival’s unwavering gaze, I find myself on the precipice of a decision that could change my life forever.
“I don’t know.” My words on the paper.
The warmth of Aunt Fiona’s kitchen envelops us as she refills our coffee mugs, the rich aroma of freshly brewed beans mingling with the sweet scent of her homemade pastries.
“I like to surf in the mornings. These days will be slow for me.” He pats his side, a reminder of what happened that night. “Would you like to come with me?”
“Spencer, dear,” Aunt Fiona interjects gently, her eyes twinkling with affection. “I remember when you were just a little girl, playing on the beach. You’ve always been more of a sandcastle architect than a wave rider, haven’t you?”
I chuckle, feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over me. A long time ago, my mother used to take me to the beach, when I wasn’t sick. As a child, I was very skinny, always struggling with a cold. My mother was a carefree woman and didn’t pay a lot of attention to me. In the end, when a respiratory infection made me very sick, the best she could do was leave me here with her two best friends. Orla and Fiona aren’t my blood family, but they took care of me as if I were.
“Ah, a true SoCal native, huh?” Percival muses, sipping his coffee thoughtfully. “I can respect that. But who knows? Maybe you’ll discover a hidden talent for surfing after all.”
I roll my eyes playfully, though secretly, I’m touched by his interest in my life and the easy way he’s managed to draw me out of my shell. The comforting atmosphere of the kitchen eases some of the tension within me.
“I’m sure you’re both curious about my presence here,” Percival says after finishing his coffee.
Curious is an understatement, but I nod in agreement, trying to keep my face neutral and my heart rate like a drum.
Percival leans back in his chair, running a hand through his tousled hair. The man is wearing navy pants and a crisp white shirt. How he managed to look so edible after spending days at the hospital is a mystery to me. “Well, after you saved my life, Spencer, I feel indebted to you. And I thought, what better way to repay that debt than by helping you achieve your dreams?”
My heart skips a beat, and I wonder if this is some sort of elaborate joke. But as I glance between Percival and Aunt Fiona, their expressions remain sincere. It’s clear they’ve discussed this already, and I can’t deny that the idea of having someone on my side, someone who genuinely wants to support me, is enticing.
“Are you serious?” I write on the notepad hesitantly, the pen shaking as the words.
“Absolutely,” Percival responds, his eyes locked onto mine. “Don’t be afraid to ask for whatever you want. I offer you to live the time of your life, to help you to achieve your dreams.”
