Page 82 of Royally Matched
Warmth spreads through my chest as I think of my dad. “He was one of the good guys. A really decent person with a good heart. He wasn’t the kind of dad who expected great things of us. I barely remember him getting angry. He was easy going, open to whatever life had to offer him.”
“He sounds like you,” she observes, and I smile.
“We were like two peas in a pod. Everyone said so. Even the way we looked.”
“Handsome guy, huh?”
I flick my gaze to hers and see the teasing in her eyes. “Deadly handsome.”
“I bet.”
“I remember once going boating on that lake in Cashmere Park.”
“The one with the rowboats shaped like pheasants? Which always struck me as so odd because pheasants don’t swim.”
“They are our national bird.”
“You don’t have to tell me that. What happened on the rowboat?”
“One summer afternoon, Dad decided we needed to bond by renting one of those rowboats. He was convinced it would be like a scene from an old movie, smooth andpeaceful, just dad and his twelve-year-old son out on the water. Reality had other plans.” I smile as I remember that day. “Dad insisted on rowing, claiming it was all about technique. But instead of gliding across the water, we zigzagged like a confused duck. Then, he accidentally dropped one of the oars into the lake. I remember his face was a mix of shock and panic as we spun in circles trying to retrieve it.”
“What did you do?”
“After a helpful stranger rescued our runaway oar, Dad grinned at me and said, ‘I’m just testing your reflexes.’ We laughed all the way back to the dock. Of course, I knew he’d messed up, but it didn’t matter. We were having fun together.”
“I can’t imagine having such a wonderfully playful father like that. You’re very lucky, you know.”
“He was a great dad,” I reply, my throat suddenly hot.
“I’m sorry you lost him so young. You were what? Nineteen? Twenty?”
“Twenty.”
She sucks in air. “So young. That must have been so hard.”
“It wasn’t easy.”
“You left the country soon after, didn’t you?” she asks softly.
“After he passed away, I guess I found it too hard to stay here. Everything reminded me of him, of what I’d lost. Leaving the country seemed like the right thing to do. The only thing to do.”
“Did it help?”
“It did, at least for a while. It’s hard to feel down when you’re faced with amazing experiences and beautiful places. But, over time, as much as I relished my time traveling the world, experiencing new things, meeting incrediblepeople, I knew I needed to come home. I needed to face what life was like without having my dad around.”
“How has it been since you’ve been back?”
“Do you know what? It’s been okay. Sure, I miss him, and I won’t be hiring one of those rowboats anytime soon. But I’m a man now, no longer a boy. I’ve matured and changed, and I found what I’ve want to do with my life.”
“That’s wonderful,” she says, her voice breathy and light, and I know she means it. That’s the unexpected thing about Sofia. She’s caring and compassionate. It’s something I admire so very deeply about her.
“What about your mum?” she asks.
“After my father’s passing, she moved back to Germany to be with her sisters. She still lives there now. I went to see her a few months ago on my way back here.”
“I didn’t know your mother was German?”
“Something your spreadsheet didn’t pick up on?” I ask, and she looks down, embarrassed.