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I swipe to answer, holding the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Lila,” he says, his voice rough, tired. There’s noise in the background—voices, movement, the faint hum of a bus engine.
“Luke.” His name feels strange on my lips as if I shouldn’t say it so easily. “What’s going on?”
He exhales the sound heavy. “Sorry to bother you. I know you’re busy. But... I could really use a favor.”
A favor. I shouldn’t feel the soft tug in my chest that his words bring. I shouldn’t feel anything at all. But of course I do. “What is it?”
“It’s my dad.” His voice is tight with worry. “His nurse called. He’s not doing great—nothing emergency room serious,” he adds quickly, “but she’s concerned. He’s not eating, barely leaving his room...”
“Luke—“
“I know it’s a lot to ask,” he cuts in. “And if you’re busy with clients, I completely understand. But you’re so good with people, and food is—well, it’s your thing. I just thought maybe...”
“You want me to check on him?”
“Would you?” The relief in his voice makes my chest ache. “Just... maybe make sure he eats something? We’ll be back tomorrow night, but...”
“Text me the address,” I say, already mentally rearranging my schedule—which, thankfully, is clear through the weekend. “I’ll head over this morning as soon as Iget off.”
“You’re amazing.” His voice softens. “I mean it... thank you. Really.”
“Just doing what friends do,” I say lightly, ignoring the flutter in my stomach.
“Right. Friends.” There’s a pause. “Dad’s place is just over the Georgia line. About forty minutes north. The nurse, Marie, will be expecting you.”
After getting the details and ending the call, I get back to work, but my thoughts keep drifting to Luke and his dad. I wonder what his dad will be like and if it will help me better understand his son. My thoughts are interrupted by a customer, which is just as well. I can’t believe how nervous I feel at just the thought of meeting someone so close to Luke.
The drive gives me time to plan. I stop at a market, picking up ingredients for simple, comforting dishes. The kind of food that might tempt someone who’s lost their appetite and wants to be left alone.
Sterling Manor sits on several acres, the grounds immaculately maintained even if the house itself has a slightly neglected air. A sturdy woman in scrubs meets me at the door.
“You must be Lila.” She smiles warmly. “I’m Marie. Thank you for coming.”
“How is he?” I ask, following her inside with my grocery bags.
Her expression falls. “Not good, dear. Since Luke’s mother passed—well, some hearts never quite heal, do they? And this is around the time she passed.”
She leads me through the house—a beautiful home that feels more like a museum, with everything preserved just so as if waiting for someone who’s never coming back.
“He’s in his study,” Marie says softly. “That’s where he spends most of his time lately. Looking at old photos, barely touching his meals...” She eyes my bags, hopefully. “Luke says you’re some kind of food wizard?”
I laugh. “Hardly. Just someone who believes in the power of a good meal.”
“Well, the kitchen’s yours. I’ll let Mr. Sterling know you’re here.”
The kitchen is gorgeous but clearly underused. As I unpack my supplies, I hear Marie’s gentle voice from down the hall: “Mr. Sterling? Luke sent someone to check on you. A friend of his...”
I busy myself preparing a light breakfast—nothing too heavy or complicated. Simple scrambled eggs with fresh herbs,whole grain toast with avocado, and a fruit smoothie packed with nutrients.
“He says he’s not hungry.”
I turn to find Marie in the doorway, looking discouraged.
“Maybe I should try?” I suggest. “Sometimes it’s easier to say no to someone you know well.”
She nods gratefully. “Down the hall, last door on the right. Don’t take it personally if he’s... short with you. Lately, his bad days outweigh his good days.”