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“I’ll probably look around for a month or so before finding a place.”
“Which areas?”
“Manhattan. I want to be close to the restaurant where I hope to get a position.”
“Let’s see where you end up working, then I’ll help you buy an apartment.”
The corner of my mouth lifts into a smile. “You don’t have to do that. My savings account is pretty healthy.”
“I know, but let me do this for you. Consider it a gift for fighting so hard.”
I nudge my shoulder against Dad’s. “You spoil me rotten.”
“Of course. You’re my daughter.”
I feel a little emotional as we continue to eat, and only when we're done do I say, “I wouldn’t have survived without you, Daddy. Thank you for practically dragging me through the past three years.”
He pats my knee before getting up and walking to his desk. With his back to me, he clears his throat before murmuring, “There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for you.”
I know. I’m the luckiest person alive to have him as my father.
Climbing out of the Mercedes, my eyes touch on the bouquet of lilies before I glance over the cemetery.
While I wait for Dad to walk around the car, a Bentley with blacked-out windows drives slowly past us.
Smiling at Dad, I hook my arm through his, and as we walk toward Mom’s grave, I look at the neatly trimmed grass and well-maintained graves. There are flower beds and old trees, the nature blending with the headstones.
“It’s actually pretty and peaceful here.”
“I wouldn’t associate the word pretty with a cemetery,” Dad replies.
I glance to my right and see a man crouching in front of a headstone, his head slightly bowed. Before I can look away, he glances in my direction.
With the distance between us, I can’t get a good look at his face, and quickly look away so he doesn’t think I’m staring at him.
When we reach Mom’s grave, I take the dead flowers from the holder attached to the headstone and put the fresh bouquet in it.
“We brought you lilies, Mom,” I say as I read the words engraved on the granite.
“Hi, Sadie,” Dad whispers while he wraps his arm around my shoulders. “I brought Skylar so you could see how good she’s doing.” His voice tenses with sorrow as he adds, “But she’s just as stubborn as you and wants to do too much too soon.”
I let out a chuckle. “No, Dad’s being overprotective like always.”
Silence falls around us as we stand by Mom’s grave, and a moment later, I feel the eerie prickling sensation at the back of my neck.
Glancing to my right, I see the man still standing by the grave he came to visit, but his head’s turned toward us.
He’s just looking in our direction, but still, my body tenses and I feel a sense of danger.
“Let’s go home, Daddy,” I say, already turning away from Mom’s grave.
As we walk back to the car, Dad asks, “Is there anywhere else you want to stop, or are we heading home?”
“Home. I want to get started with dinner.”
We climb into the Mercedes, and I pull on the safety belt. When Dad steers us toward the gates of the cemetery, I say, “Since the transplant, I keep getting this weird sensation that I’m being watched.”
Dad’s eyes flick to my face. “But you’ve hardly left the house.”
