“It’s fine. You can send him in. Ensure I’m not disturbed.”
Demi ushers Xavier into the office with a bright smile, closing the door behind us.
“She’s hot.” Xavier ambles toward my desk with a knowing grin on his face and a battered laptop bag slung crossways over his body. “But it’s fucking creepy how much she looks like Abby.”
I rub at a tense spot between my brows. “So you’ve said, and I’m getting tired of hearing it.” I sigh. “She’s not Abby. She’s her own person. And I happen to care about her a lot.”
“I already guessed that.” He plonks his jean-clad butt down on the seat in front of my desk.
I’m betting he’s the current topic of gossip out on the floor. It’s not every day they see a green-spikey-haired punk in grubby jeans, a rocker tee, and worn leather jacket roaming the corridors around here.
“You wouldn’t have asked me to look into this if you didn’t have feelings for her.” He pulls some papers out of his bag.
“What have you discovered?” I ask, wanting to move this along.
“Her father’s cancer is advanced.”
The first thing I did last night when I overheard Margaret Ann discussing the fundraiser, and the reason for it, was call Xavier, asking him to find out what he could about Henry Alexander’s medical condition. All I knew was he’d had a stroke that meant he was now confined to a wheelchair.
“Demi said he’s been told he only has a few months to live.”
Empathy washes over his face as he rifles through a few documents. “That’s what the consultant’s report says.” He hands me a few sheets of paper. “I copied all his medical files and charts. You should ask Rick to take a look at it. He might be at dinner on Sunday.”
“I can’t ask him there. Demi is coming with me,” I admit, crossing one leg over my knee.
“It’s serious between you?” He looks somewhat surprised.
“It’s new, but I think it could be.”
A genuine smile graces his mouth. “Good for you, dude. I hope it works out.”
“What else did you discover from Henry’s medical files,” I ask, deliberately not commenting on his statement.
“There is an experimental drug trial that might benefit him, but it’s pricey, and after going through his finances, it’s clear that’s a no-go.”
“That’s why she’s fundraising,” I murmur, more to myself. I pin sharp eyes on Xavier. “How much is participation in the trial?”
“Two hundred K.”
“Send me all the details and details of his bank account.”
“What are you going to do?”
“What do you think?” I scoff.
“Wow. You must really dig this chick.”
I flip him the bird. “What else do I need to know?”
“Demi is up to her eyeballs in debt. She’s got loans coming out of her ears.”
“Could you update me with less cliché usage?”
Now, it’s his turn to flip me off. “She topped up her student loans to help with her father’s medical expenses. Her salary barely covers the mortgage and the household bills.”
“Send me her bank details as well.”
“You’re going to clear all her shit too, huh?”
My jaw tightens. “She’s partly in this mess because of my father. Henry should not have been let go. There was no brain damage and no reason why he couldn’t have continued to perform his role. We have flexible working and remote working policies in operation he could’ve availed of. If he was still an employee, he would have full private medical coverage. She wouldn’t have had to drop out of school, and she wouldn’t be drowning in debt.”
“You’d never have met her then.”
“Thanks for pointing that out, Captain Obvious.”
“She deserves a fucking medal for putting up with your grumpy ass,” he adds, chewing on a toothpick he removes from the pocket of his jacket.
“She happens to like my grumpy ass.”
“Guess there’s no accounting for taste.”
“How is Hunt these days?”
He grins. “Hot as fuck. And the biggest pain in my ass.”
I snort. “Literally, huh?”
Xavier leans forward, propping his elbows on the desk. “Charlie boy, are you asking if I’m a bottom?” His eyes glint mischievously.
I crank out a laugh. “As if anyone needs to ask that question!”
He pouts. “Now, you’re just being rude.” He folds his arms across his chest, huffing.
“Relax, dude. I’m just yanking your… Yeah, let’s not go there.” This conversation is quickly sinking to the gutter, and I want to maintain focus. I clear my throat and sit up straighter. “I’m guessing Lauder and Hunt will be at dinner?”
He drops the pout, relaxing back into the chair. “Yeah. You can watch Jackson and Drew snarking at one another. It’s my new favorite hobby.”
What the hell am I getting myself into? “I can hardly wait.”
He hands me a sealed envelope. “I’ve got to get back to work. Thought it best to let you go through this in your own time.”
“What is it?”
“The reason why your father was such an asshole to Demi’s dad.” He stands. “Just so you know, it might upset you a little.”
Bile travels up my throat. “Thanks, man.”
He nods. “Anytime.” He strolls toward the door. “See you, Sunday, boy scout.”
I throw my stapler at his retreating back, but it bounces off the door, crashing to the ground, as he exits my office, whistling under his breath.
I arrive at Demi’s house early on Sunday because I want to talk with her father. Henry opens the door, grinning widely when he sees me standing on his front porch with a massive bouquet of flowers nestled against my chest. “Charlie. It’s so good to see you. Come on in.”
I wait for him to pivot in his wheelchair before entering the house, closing the door behind me.
“I assume Demi isn’t expecting you yet because she’s still out in her studio.”
“Studio?” I inquire, following him into a homey living room.
“She didn’t mention she hand paints furniture?”
I shake my head as he gestures toward the couch. “We’re still getting to know one another.”
“So I hear.”
I put the bouquet down on the small mahogany table before taking a seat on the couch across from him. “She’s mentioned me then.”
“She has. There are no secrets between me and my little girl.”
His eyes well up, and I scan his face, noticing how much he has changed. His skin is ashen, his eyes are sunken and bloodshot, and his clothes hang off his frame. He was always lean, but he’s lost a lot of weight, and he’s near skeletal now.
“I was very sorry to hear about the cancer, sir.”
“When your time is up, your time is up.” He breaks out in a coughing fit, and I move to his side, grabbing a handful of tissues and giving them to him. When the fit passes, he reaches for his glass of water, holding it in shaking hands. “I’m just sorry to be leaving my princess all alone,” he says, continuing where we left off. “But I can’t deny my joy at being reunited with my Luana.”