I wasn’t a reckless driver, but I burned rubber as I drove out of the parking space and into traffic, earning me a beep from the car I cut off. If only my high school friends could see me now!
Dad was doing better when I arrived. He was sitting at the kitchen table eating a late lunch and listening to the radio.
“I hope they paid you plenty for those extra hours you worked,” he told me as I kissed his head and strode into the bathroom.
Guilt wrapped its arms around me and squeezed so my voice was close to a squeak when I replied. “I said hi to Dean after work and stayed longer than I realized.” I hoped Dad would accept that as I grabbed the bathroom door handle.
“Does that motel not use air-conditioning ‘cause you stink, love?”
Fuck. And another fuck. I should have showered after we had sex but wanted to get out of there and begin grieving that Dev and I had no future.
“Yeah, sorry. We were talking about cars.” Damn, that was a mistake because dad knew I didn’t give a toss about cars. Mine got me from A to B and occasionally needed gas, air and oil.
He leaned on the back of the chair and studied me. “Is Dean becoming more than a friend? Is that the reason for your sudden interest in cars?”
I snorted, which was a giveaway because I did that when I fibbed, and while Dad was unwell, he had eyes and ears.
“No, he’s a good friend.” I slammed the door louder than intended, turned the water on and let the shower carry away my tears. Life wasn’t fair—at least my life.
But I made a plan as I was getting dressed. Dev was an uncommon name, and if he was rich and famous, I might find him online. He was definitely the former because no one owned a car like his unless they had plenty of spare cash.
While Dad took a nap, I searched for Dev. But my hopes were dashed at finding his face smiling at me from a gossip blog or social media post. There was a head of industry named Dev, but his pic suggested he was middle-aged and very much married.
Another Dev had been a football player and now owned a sporting goods company he’d expanded to locations country-wide. But while he was cute, he had not one hair on his head and my Dev had a mop of messy locks.
I typed “Dev” and “rich blue sports car” into the search engine, but all I got were a bunch of car pics. Shit, if I knew the make and model, that might help me find him. Should have paid more attention when Dean went on and on about cars.
I sat back on the sofa and rubbed my back, unaware of how long I’d been hunched over. But seconds later, I bounded up. “Dean!” Even if he hadn’t taken photos of the vehicle—and I was certain he had while Dev and I were in the motel room—he’d be able to describe the car. How many of those blue sports cars were there in the city? Few, I’d bet.
“I knew there was something going on.”
Dad appeared in the doorway without his walker. That was a no no because he was unsteady on his feet and a fall could delay the operation.
“What?” I leaped up. Was he talking about the impending marriage which I hadn’t mentioned or my tryst with Dev?
“You and Dean.”
“No, Dad.” But perhaps as he’d “opened the door” as lawyers said when they cross-examined a witness, this was anopportunity to introduce the idea of me being in love. I could waltz in one day and say, “Guess what? I’m getting married.”
“But I have met someone, and it kinda went from nothing to something quickly.” I plastered a smile on my face because everything was shitty from the marriage to having a fleeting hour of happiness with Dev. “But I want you to either sit or get back in bed, and I’ll tell you all about him when I get home.”
“You’re leaving?” He raised a brow and smirked.
“Mmmm. I won’t be long.”
As I raced out the door, I texted Sebastian, asking when the money would be in our account. He had all the details because I’d emailed them yesterday.
He replied, saying he’d pay the hospital directly.
Fuck him! He didn’t trust me. Did he think I was going to run off with the cash and leave my dying dad? Sounded like something Sebastian would do.
Arriving at the motel, I parked outside the office despite the huge sign saying, “No parking.” Dean lived out back, so if he’d finished his shift, I’d find him tinkering with his car.
“Dean.”
He dropped a spanner or a wrench or some metal tool. Who knew what it was?
His eyes grew wide, and he hugged me. “The car? She’s back?” He peered over my shoulder. “That guy is a keeper and when you get married, remind him your good friend Dean would love a ride in the car.”
