6. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
Soren
The next four days passed in a blur. Feedings, kittens, laundry, paying extra attention to Tibby and—most importantly—restraining myself when it came to Sam.
I’d never realized he worked six days a week. Or perhaps he didn’t always. He’d again mentioned his niece Quinta and how he was both worried and needing her home. Desiree always worked Sundays—giving him one day of reprieve.
Saturday evening, we battled over who would care for the kittens during the night. A battle I’d won every night so far. One Sam seemed determined to win tonight. “I’ve had the entire week off. You’ve not had more than three hours sleep at a time. You need a solid night.”
“I’m fine.”
He arched an eyebrow.
“Seriously. I don’t ever remember being this well rested. Or well slept.”
“Is that a thing?”
I shrugged. “I’m not certain—but it should be.
I’m getting about twelve hours of sleep during a twenty-four-hour period.
That’s decadent. When I was first starting my business?
Insane hours.” I grinned. “And Lolita has everything under control. In fact, I think she really likes being the boss. I’m going to look at giving her more responsibilities.
Which would enable me to hire a couple more programmers and to take on more clients. ”
“Oh.” He rubbed his face. “So expanding your business?”
“Yes. I’m always turning clients away. The internet world can be a dangerous place. I’ll never run out of work.”
He squinted. And likely not from the light that flooded the great room. As we got closer to the summer solstice, the days grew longer. Rain had been intermittent, and sun aplenty. “This is making my head hurt.”
“Great. So you’ll eat the bean salad and burgers I’ve made—lean ground chuck—and you’ll head to bed.”
“Nope. I will eat—feeling guilty because I haven’t prepared a single meal this week—and I’ll take care of the kittens tonight while you get some rest.” Even as he said the words, he yawned. “Goddamnit.”
I grinned. “I rest my case. Do you want a shower before dinner?” Some days he came home and hopped right into the shower—others he dropped into the kitchen chair and devoured his food.
I sent him to work with a lunch every day—but I got the sense he didn’t always have time to eat the entire thing.
Quinta really needed to come home soon. Either that, or Sam needed to find more help.
“Hey, have you given any thought to hiring someone on contract just for a week or two? I’m sure there’s a college student who’d appreciate the work while trying to find something more permanent.
Youth unemployment’s pretty high right now. ”
“Because AI is eating up all the jobs.” He rubbed his forehead.
I took him by the elbow and guided him to the kitchen where I encouraged him to sit. I hadn’t asked permission to touch him. On the other hand, he appeared as if he was about to drop right on the spot.
He sat heavily.
I retrieved the bean salad from the fridge and put it before him along with a bowl, serving spoon, and a fork.
Then I donned oven mitts so I could pull the burgers and buns from the oven where they’d been warming.
Fresh off the grill was better, but I never knew the exact moment he’d be home, and I didn’t want him waiting.
As he dished salad into two bowls, I served the burgers. We added condiments and then gave each other a smile before eating.
Sam had admitted he wasn’t a religious man. Losing most of his family to a drunk driver had cured him of that belief. I saw myself as more agnostic. Something greater than myself existed—I just wasn’t going to put all my eggs in the religion basket.
Only after he’d consumed most of his meal did he stop to take a breath. “Thank you. This was…amazing.”
I chuckled. “High praise for burgers.”
“And bean salad. One of my favorites and very healthy.” He sighed.
“You’re looking good.” Crap. All week I’ve been well-behaved.
Slowly, Sam nodded. “I decided I needed to take better care of myself. Even if Quinta’s on her own, she’s still my responsibility.
They say you never really stop being a parent.
That you always worry. Well, they—whoever they are—aren’t wrong.
Maybe, I don’t know, when she finishes university and lands a good job?
Finds a life partner? If that’s what she wants…
” He sighed. “I’ve done my best, but that never feels good enough. ”
I toyed with my fork. “Have you spoken to her?”
“Yesterday after work. I was driving home when her call came through my speakers. I didn’t want to miss the call, so I pulled over and talked to her.”
Most drivers I knew would’ve likely kept on driving. Hell, I would’ve kept going. “And?”
“Something about another week or so. Something about labs. Truthfully, I don’t understand. But then I didn’t go to college.”
He’d mentioned this before. “Would you want to? Now that Quinta’s settled?”
He blinked. “I have the store to run.” He waved me off. “I did some courses through an online community college. Business stuff. And that’s helped me immensely in managing the store. But beyond that? I can’t even fathom.”
“Okay. But if you could go to college—and study anything you want—what would it be?”
His stillness struck me as he sat without moving.
Is he thinking about it? Or does he already know, and he’s worried I might judge him. Which, of course, I never would.
Finally, he shrugged. “I guess something to do with business. I’ve proven I’m pretty good at that.”
“Sure…but what’s your passion? If you could immerse yourself in anything, what would it be?”
He bit his lower lip—something I’d never witnessed him doing before.
Have I pushed him too far? What’s he thinking?
After what felt like a million years, he sighed. “History. Art history in particular.” He still didn’t meet my gaze.
I was uncertain whether I should speak up.
Then he let out a breath. “I love watching documentaries. You know, about whether or not a painting is real or fake. Or about the histories of a certain work. Maybe about an artist. I’d love to go to San Francisco or Los Angeles.
Oh, or New York, London, and Paris. Just to go and immerse myself in the galleries.
To see the masterpieces up close. I’ve bought dozens of used art history books over the years—my one real treat to myself—and I love them so freaking much.
” Finally, he met my gaze. “I’m being silly. ”
My eyebrows shot up. “How so? That kind of passion? I love it. Not everyone knows what they want with such zeal. I mean, I fell into programming quite by accident. I went to Cal Tech for pure mathematics. I took a programming course to fill my schedule. In the process, I discovered that I didn’t want to do research or teach math for the rest of my life, but put me in front of a computer and I was a happy man.
The internet was growing by leaps and bounds back then.
I didn’t start in cybersecurity, but I fell into that role as well.
As much as I love my job—and my company—it’s not a grand passion. ”
He offered a small smile. “What is your grand passion? You said traveling, right?”
I nodded. “I have the money. But not the time. Except, if Lolita managing things works out, I might be able to take a real vacation. Noah said he’d board Tibby—or recommend someone who could.
You know what would be cool? If you came with me.
And we mixed adventure with museums and art galleries.
You could teach me everything you know.” A bubble of excitement rose within me.
Sam’s eyes widened. “Uh, Soren?”
Again, I bobbed my head.
“I barely get one day off a week. I pretty much haven’t taken a vacation in years.
We’re allowed to receive a payment in lieu of vacation, and I put that payment aside every year for Quinta’s college fund.
She still needs scholarships, but she’s not going to have nearly as much debt as she might otherwise.
Helps, of course, that she’s going to a state school.
” He rubbed his forehead. “Maybe—” He swallowed. “Maybe when I retire.”
Which might be thirty or forty years from now. My heart ached. Honestly, the idea had been farfetched at best—but it’d also felt right. I would love to travel with a companion. Sam would be the perfect choice. “Something to consider in the future.”
He sighed. “Mandy’s trained as an assistant manager. When she’s back from maternity leave, maybe I can take a couple of days and go down to Los Angeles.”
I wanted to suggest we go together, but that seemed to be too much for him to handle at the moment. Plus, he might have cats to care for.
His alarm went off.
He sighed yet again. A heavy, weary sigh.
“Let me—”
“Nope. You made dinner. You’ve done more than half the feedings.” He pushed himself to his feet.
“Sam?”
He met my gaze.
“It’s not a competition. We’re in this together.
Backing each other up. Putting the kittens first. That’s what—” I was about to say parents, but that always felt like a touchy subject with him.
For good reasons. “That’s’ what fosters do.
Put the needs of their charges before themselves.
But that doesn’t mean the foster should wear themselves out.
Look, I know viruses cause illnesses. That said, if your immune system is weaker because of lack of sleep, then you’re more susceptible.
You work with the public. That means you’re more at risk. ”
He rubbed his hands over his face. “Why do you always have to make so much sense?”
I chuckled. “It’s the mathematician in me. Oh, and the science courses I took. I enjoyed virology and biology. I handle different viruses these days—the computer kind—but I keep up on medical journals. Only prudent, I think.”
“Whereas I’m reading art history books.”
To my surprise, he put a hand on my shoulder. “I’ve got this. The rest of the night is up for debate. And I intend to win.” He squeezed, then yawned as he exited the kitchen.