housekeeper

21. Choosing gowns.

After a refreshing shower and reminiscing about the day's enjoyable activities, I dialled Stephanie's number from the comfort of my bed.

She picked up after two rings, "So, what's the scoop with you and Dave? I want to hear every detail, and don't skip anything."

"Jumping right into the interrogation?" I replied, chuckling.

"You sound too jolly. Did something happen that you made me wait this long for your call?"

"Stephanie!" I exclaimed in a warning, playful tone.

"By the sound of your voice, something definitely happened," she responded, a bit too gleefully.

"Even if something did happen, it's not your business. Do you want the full story, or would you prefer a busy tone?"

"Fine, fine, I'll back off. Just tell me the 'unexciting' version."

That was the moment I confided in her about his regret, his courteous manner, and the way he expressed his feelings towards me. She, in turn, disclosed an unexpected detail. She had harboured suspicions for a while, stemming from Arthur's elusive answers whenever she probed into whether Dave harboured feelings for me. Arthur would invariably sidestep the question, deftly changing the subject.

The following days are filled with lazing around, cooking and a lot of sex. I'm aware that Dave must travel to America soon, and he will be away for an entire month. I'll miss him dearly. However, I'm currently serving my notice period at the law firm, and afterwards, I can join him as his personal assistant.

For the past two days, Dave has been pacing nervously and is reluctant to share the reason.

"Dave, can you please tell me what's bothering you? Your constant pacing is making me anxious."

Dave turns to me with a grave expression and lets out a sigh as he sits down beside me on the couch. "My parents have invited me to dinner."

"So? You usually accept their invitations."

Holding my hand, he gazes into my eyes intently.

"I want you to come with me, Feather. This time, my mother must treat you with respect. I won't stand to see you demeaned again!"

I stare at him, mouth agape, and reply with disappointment, "She surely hasn't forgotten our last encounter."

Dave releases my hand, rises, and begins to pace. "Indeed, she remembers. We're aware my father won't object, but my mother... I'm certain she'll cause issues. As you saw previously, she's quite class-conscious. She expects me to be with someone from our social circle..." Dave falls silent.

"Not someone like your housekeeper or a secretary, right? Is she still adhering to Renaissance values? That my background isn't sufficient? I had no choice in being born to an unemployed alcoholic, whom I haven't seen since that wedding."

Dave returns and sits beside me. "My mother envisions me marrying Sara. She's been concocting our wedding for years. She's oblivious to what transpired between Sara and me."

"Then tell her that. It can't be that difficult," I urge him.

He chuckles and then tells me, "I'll say it tonight, and you'll come with me. My mother needs to get to know the woman who stole my heart. Come on, we were going shopping."

Dave then pulls me to the car, and soon we're stepping into a boutique I had never even considered peering into before. A salesperson approaches us, which I find quite bothersome. I much prefer browsing in peace, without the presence of insistent sales staff.