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“Tristan?” My mom whispers.
I feel him stand and leave my side, instantly left with a cold void. The next thing I know, my mom’s brushing my hair away and calling my name.
I blink my eyes open to find her worried smile.
“Sweetie,” she whispers.
“Yeah?”
“Dinner is here. Eat something so you can take your medication.” She sits on the edge of the bed as I slide my body into a sitting position.
“I don’t know why you didn’t want to bring that boy around before. It’s clear that despite how new you think this relationship is, he cares a lot about you.”
I look away, scrubbing my eyes. “Can we talk about this once I’m well?”
“Of course.” She kisses my forehead.
“He’ll stay for dinner. It’s clear he isn’t going anywhere until he’s sure you’re okay.”
“Or Daddy forces him out,” I say in jest.
My mom laughs. “Your father will like him just fine.” She squeezes my hand.
My dad is harder to convince than my mom, but Tristan is a good man. It’s a challenge to find something to dislike about him. He’s successful, selfless, kind, and polite. Despite coming from money, he’s humble.
The only problem is that he’s not really my boyfriend. A tiny dilemma. I inwardly groan and stand up from the bed.
“I love you, sweetheart.” My mom wraps her arm around my shoulder and kisses my temple.
“Love you, too, Mom.” I smile.
When we walk into the kitchen, Tristan is helping my dad set the small table we have there.
“How’s my girl?” My dad walks over to me with a warm smile and kisses my cheek.
“I’m okay.”
“Well, let’s get some food in you so you can continue to rest.” He pulls a chair out for me.
Tristan stands back, observing us. I tilt my head, wondering what he thinks of my family.
“Please sit,” my mom tells him.
He nods, as if coming out of his own thoughts, and takes a seat next to me.
“You’re okay?” He looks at me, his question for my ears only.
“Yeah.” I smile softly.
“Good.” His hand lands on mine and squeezes it.
My dad says a prayer before we eat. I’m quiet during dinner while he asks Tristan all sorts of questions. He’s intrigued by his career choice and his time working abroad. I can tell by his approving nod when Tristan talks about his experience as a humanitarian aid volunteer.
“It’s wonderful that you want to leave your own mark on the world. It sounds like an interesting idea to offer orphanages arts education and sports programs,” he says.
“Thank you, sir. It’s something I’ve dreamed of for years. It’s a slow process, but I’m positive it will grow to have some real impact.”
“I’m sure it will.” My mom beams.
