“I’m fine?—”
“You will take them or you will go back to the hospital. End of discussion,” Zia snaps.
I sigh. “Fine.”
The meds are swiftly brought to me, and I down them with some water. Zia nods happily, and I sit taller under his approval.
The first dish is served, and I blink at the workers who come and go quickly and discreetly. So this is how Zia grew up. I definitely can’t give him this. I wonder if he prefers it over eating takeaway pizza on my sofa.
Has anyone ever asked him?
I stare down at the food. It looks incredible, but once again, I’m confused about where to begin. I don’t want to embarrass myself or Zia in front of his father. He’s important to Zia, and I need his approval since I plan on keeping his son.
“What’s wrong? Don’t like this? I can request something else,” his father asks, his eyes on me.
“Ah, no, sir. I am sorry. I’m just—” I rub my head. “I don’t have a fucking clue which fork to use. Excuse my language.”
His father stares at me for a moment before bursting into laughter so hard his face turns red.
I spare Zia a look, hoping I haven’t embarrassed him, as his father continues to chuckle. “Oh, Nikko, you’re so refreshing. Don’t worry, just eat with whatever. It doesn’t matter to us. In fact . . .” He turns to a server. “Please remove all settings bar one knife and fork.” They hurry to do that, and then he smiles at me. “Eat, you will need it to heal.”
I dig into the food, groaning at the flavor. It’s good. Zia eats more delicately than I do, and he and his father discuss some contracts that go right over my head.
As I watch him and his father speak, our conversation from this afternoon floods back to me.
We were walking in the garden, something his doctor apparently advised. “Don’t tell my son,” he whispered as we rounded a fountain. He took a seat and pulled out a beer, handing me one.
My eyes widened, but I took it and popped it open, not wanting to insult him. He sighed as he took a sip and leaned back. “I love my son, but he would keep me in a bubble if he could. He’s determined to keep me alive for as long as he can.”
“He loves you.”
“He does.” His father smiled. “He’s an incredible kid. I love my son very much.” His eyes landed on me. “Very much, do you understand?”
“I do,” I murmured.
“Good, I let one fool hurt him once, but I will not let it happen again,” he warned.
“I will never hurt your son. I will swear a blood oath if you want,” I responded as I put my beer down. “In fact, I intend to love and marry him.” His eyes widened. “I plan to spend the rest of my life with him.”
“He’s different after Faiz. He might not like it,” he cautioned, watching me.
“I don’t give up easily, and he’s worth it. I’m willing to work for his heart, but I will not give up on him, even if you want me to. I apologize if that offends you, but I love your son, and I’m not going anywhere.”
His smile was slow, but he tapped his beer to mine. “Good, keep that fire. You’ll need it to go up against him. I raised a fighter.”
“I would happily lose to him. The second and only other loss I will have.”
“What was the first?”
“A man cheated to win a boxing match. Your son made him pay,” I admitted.
“Good. I think you are exactly what Zia needs—someone willing to make him happy, someone real. This life . . .” He looked around. “All I ever wanted was for my family to be safe and taken care of. I never expected it to turn out like this. I worry my lifestyle has affected him, that he will never have normalcy. For a while, he seemed happy withFaiz, but it didn’t last. I want my son to be happy. I want him to have a good life. Promise me you’ll give him everything he deserves. Promise me you’ll stand at his side, even when things are hard.”
“I promise,” I murmured. “I’m not going anywhere, no matter what happens.”
His dad grinned and reached under his shirt, lifting out a necklace and offering it to me. I caught it, confused. There were two rings dangling from it—a diamond one and a simple band. “My and my wife’s rings. I always told myself I would give them to whoever deserves my son. Faiz never did. I’m trusting you, Nikko, with my son’s heart and happiness. When I’m gone, it will be up to you. I won’t live much longer, so I am glad I get to see him happy. I’m glad I get to see the man who will take care of him when I’m gone.”
“I worry I’m not good enough for him. I’m not used to this life,” I shared, not wanting to lie to his father, especially as I stared at the rings that mean a lot to both of them.
