Page 22 of Tempted By the Handsome Doctor

"Says the man who has clearly read some of these," she counters, looking pleased nonetheless. "Tea or coffee?"

"Tea is fine." I follow her through an arched doorway into a small but cheerful kitchen, painted a soft yellow with white cabinets and butcher block countertops.

"Make yourself comfortable," Maya says, filling a kettle at the sink. "There are some cookies in that jar if you're hungry."

I lean against the counter, watching as she moves around the kitchen, taking down mugs and a tin of tea. There's something mesmerizing about seeing her in her space, unguarded and at ease.

"This was your dad's house?" I ask.

She nods, setting the kettle on the stove. "He bought it when I was two. We lived in an apartment before that, but he wanted a yard for me to play in, a real home." Her expression softens with memory. "He used to push me for hours on the tire swing that hung from that oak tree out front."

"It's still there?"

"No, the rope finally rotted through a few years ago. Dad kept saying he'd replace it, but..." She trails off, and I understand the unspoken end to that sentence. But then he got sick. But then he ran out of time.

"We could put up a new one," I suggest. "For the baby."

Maya looks up, surprise and something warmer flickering in her eyes. "We could."

The simple agreement, the use of 'we,' feels momentous somehow. I clear my throat, "Can I see the rest of the house?" I ask.

"Sure." She turns off the stove as the kettle starts to whistle. "Tea can wait."

She leads me back through the living room and down a short hallway. "Bathroom," she says, gesturing to a door on the left. "Nothing exciting, though I did retile it myself last year."

"Impressive."

"YouTube tutorials are a homeowner's best friend." She continues to a door on the right. "This was Dad's study. I haven't changed much in here."

I follow her into a small room with a large oak desk positioned under a window overlooking the backyard. Bookshelves here too, but these hold more textbooks and literary criticism, alongside framed photos and the promised collection of model Corvettes. A worn leather chair sits behind the desk, and I can easily imagine James Sullivan grading papers there, reading glasses perched on his nose.

Chapter 9 - Maya

Watching Daniel in my father's study feels like worlds colliding. He moves around the space, hands clasped behind his back as if afraid to disturb anything. His eyes linger on the model Corvettes lined up on the shelf, gleaming under a thin layer of dust I haven't had the heart to wipe away.

"This was his pride and joy," I say, nodding toward the collection. "He'd spend hours detailing them with tiny brushes. I used to sit on the floor and hand him the colors he asked for."

Daniel picks up the smallest one—a cherry-red 1963 Stingray—turning it in his hands. "Beautiful craftsmanship."

"That was the first one. I gave it to him for Father's Day when I was fourteen. Saved up my babysitting money for months." My throat feels like it’s closing. "He acted like I'd handed him the keys to the actual car."

Daniel sets it back exactly where he found it, aligning it perfectly with the others. The care in that small gesture touches me more than I expected.

"You were close," he says. Not a question.

"He was everything." The simple truth of it still hurts. "Mom left when I was a baby, so it was just us. Team Sullivan, he called us."

Daniel's eyes find mine, full of quiet understanding. "When was he diagnosed?"

"Three and a half years ago." I move to the window, looking out at the darkening yard. The memory still feels razor-sharp. "Pancreatic cancer. Stage four by the time they found it."

"I'm sorry." He comes to stand beside me. "That's a difficult diagnosis."

"The doctor gave him six months." I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the warm house. "He made it fourteen, stubborn to the end. Long enough for me to move back from Chicago, to get the library job, to say a proper goodbye."

"Small mercies," Daniel says softly.

"That's exactly what he called it." I look up, surprised. "A small mercy, getting time to put his affairs in order. To make sure I was settled."

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