She gave my hand a squeeze and returned the kiss. “Old habit.” She stepped back and directed me to the man at her side. “This is my dad.”
He was a strong, solid man. I knew from Abby he worked as a contractor and had done so for more than twenty years. I shook his hand. “Mr. King,” I said. “Welcome to New York.”
“Don’t call me Mr. King,” he said, a small smile playing on his features. “And thank you.”
I held the door open wider. “Please come in. Excuse Apollo. He’s a bit shy around strangers.”
True to form, Apollo stayed stuck to my side, moving only to nudge Abby’s hand when she passed him. I smiled, remembering how he’d reacted to meeting her the first time. His reaction to her father was much more normal. My eyes met Abby’s, and I nodded toward him.
See? I said with my eyes. He really doesn’t like strangers.
She rubbed his head as she walked into the foyer, rolling her eyes at me. “Can I help with anything in the kitchen?”
“I have the beef Wellington and potatoes in the oven,” I said. She’d told me her dad was a meat-and-potatoes type of man, and I’d planned dinner around his preferences.
“Beef Wellington?” She arched an eyebrow. “Maybe I should go check it out?”
“Your father and I will be in the living room.” Better to get this out of the way sooner rather than later.
We sat down—me on the couch, her dad on the love seat. He looked around the room, appraising. I gathered he was a quiet man, much like his daughter.
I cleared my throat. “Abby says you’re going to give Felicia away on Saturday.”
“Felicia has been like a second daughter to me. She’s had her share of hardships. I’m glad she’s finally found someone.”
“Jackson’s completely in love with her. He’s never been happier.”
He smiled, and I saw the kindness in his eyes, the warmth, and knew Abby inherited more than her quiet nature from her father. “From what Abby tells me, Felicia and Jackson aren’t the only ones,” he said.
Okay. The straightforwardness I wasn’t expecting. Abby had not inherited that.
My mind spun frantically, and I tried desperately to think of how to respond.
I have nothing but honorable intentions toward your daughter?
Not sure that was the entire truth, considering what I told Abby I’d do to her the next time I had her in my playroom.
Fuck. Abby’s father is in my house. Sitting directly below the playroom where I teased and tormented his daughter. How would I explain the closed door if I gave them a tour?
You don’t, I told myself. You just ignore it.
Did I really think he would look at a closed door and say, “Hey, what’s in there?”
No, I didn’t.
But still. He could.
“I understand she’s moving in with you next weekend?” he asked.
I pulled myself up straighter and did my best to ignore the sweat running down my back. This was worse than high school prom. What if he forbade Abby to move in? Would he do that? What would I do if I became the cause of more strife between Abby and her father?
The words rushed out. “I have nothing but honorable intentions toward your daughter, sir.” I cringed. Idiot.
He waved his hand in dismissal. “I know you’re a successful man, Nathaniel, and I know Abby has a good head on her shoulders. I’m not going to say I’m altogether pleased with how quickly this is moving or that I’m happy with this whole living-together arrangement.” He gave me a look, and I wondered how much he knew of my past with Abby. “But I remember the joy of sharing my life with someone.”
Abby had said he’d been alone for a long time.
“So while I’m not altogether pleased,” he said, “I’ll overlook it for Abby’s sake. If you make her happy, well, all I’ve ever wanted is for her to find happiness.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said, strangely relieved. “I, too, want nothing but Abby’s happiness.”
“Hell,” he said. “Don’t call me sir. It makes me feel ancient. Tell me about your cousin. Anything I need to warn Felicia about?”
I laughed, and the conversation shifted seamlessly to football.
We ate dinner in the dining room. I’d wanted to eat in the kitchen, but Abby thought the dining room more appropriate, and after thinking on it further, I agreed. The dining room, while serving a purpose on weekends, was part of the house and should be used as such.
Besides, I thought, watching her direct her dad to his seat, I rather enjoyed watching her acting as hostess in my house. I’d never entertained much, but I decided Abby and I would have to change that after she moved in.
I offered to help her serve, but she rejected me thoroughly and told me to have a seat and keep her dad company. I sat at my place at the head of the table. Abby’s dad sat at my right, leaving Abby a seat at my left. I’d set the table before everyone arrived; all we needed was the food.
Abby walked in and stood beside me. My cock gave a twitch, remembering how she served me in the dining room on weekends. I placed a napkin firmly in my lap. This was not a weekend.
Still, my body remembered . . .
And there was the electricity that hummed between us whenever we were together.
She set the beef Wellington before me and lightly grazed my shoulder with her fingers.
I feel it, too, her touch said. I know exactly what you’re thinking.
Our eyes met as she sat down, and I grinned at her. Not everything, my expression teased. You just wait—when I get you alone again.
“Did you cook this?” her father asked, interrupting our silent conversation.
I turned to him, slightly abashed at having improper thoughts about his daughter while he sat at my table.
“I did,” I said. I hoped he wasn’t the type of man who thought cooking was not a masculine pursuit.
“Abby enjoys cooking, too,” he said. “You two must have fun in the kitchen.”
“We do,” I said, and my mind wandered to a snowy day, a steam-filled kitchen, and a lunch of cold risotto.
“We took sushi lessons a few weeks ago,” Abby said, kicking my foot under the table.
The corner of her lip went up, and I shook my head at her. What? I asked with my eyes. Maybe I’d lost my poker face abilities the last few weeks.
“Do you enjoy baseball?” I asked her dad.
“Oh, yes,” he said. “Baseball. Football.”
“I have a box at Yankee Stadium,” I said. “Maybe you can come down this summer and go to a few games. Abby and I would love to have you stay a few days.” Emphasizing, I hoped, that I viewed this not just as my home, but Abby’s as well. That he would always be welcome in our house.
Our house.
I felt my stomach flip in the most amazing way and realized that this, this was what contentment was. What was it he had said? The joy of sharing your life with someone.
I looked back at Abby and, yes, she felt it too. I reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Not just sharing your life with someone, though. Sharing your life with the One.
Chapter Thirteen
—ABBY—
It was pointless, I decided, throwing back the covers and getting out of bed. I piddled around my room for a few minutes, running my hand over the multitude of boxes—clothes here, books there, everything else in between.
I wondered if Felicia was sleeping. She was spending the night on my couch. We’d had a wonderful day—first meeting Elaina at Felicia’s favorite spa and treating the bride-to-be to a day of pampering. Later in the afternoon, Felicia and I had returned to the apartment and giggled like schoolgirls while we got ready for the rehearsal. Even that had gone well. Nathaniel stood proudly beside his cousin, a tiny hint of a smile on his lips as Felicia tried unsuccessfully to pry information on where they had been all day.