The Perfect Gentleman ✔

14: The meeting

Sara nibbled at her nails, fidgeting as she eyed the cellphone in her hand warily. This was a bad idea, she debated, glancing at Donald who was sprawled on her sofa eating chips.

"I don't think I have to call him," she began tentatively.

"You have to call him," was the icy retort.

She shrugged at his response. "I could send him an SMS. There's no need to hear his voice," she whispered and then wondered why she did, still eyeing the phone though.

Donald sat up on the sofa. "No can do. You'll not send him an SMS because you're not applying for a job, you'll call him because you need to talk to him and because you need to meet with your son."

Sara eyed him furiously. "But I've already met my son," she protested.

"I agree," he nodded, munching a chip noisily. "Albeit in thirty seconds when he unknowingly bumped into you and was fine. Sara, he's a five year old. It's their programmed body language. Bump into people always and never get hurt."

She pouted and fought the urge to throw something at his head. "I hate you right now."

He smiled at her, grinning like a fool. "It's a response I'm familiar with already, especially from women who know what they should do but need the extra push," he explained.

Then he looked serious and said, "Now, call him."

He had arrived three hours ago at her request immediately he left work, and after recounting her day in tears, he had offered his help. He gave her Lucas's business card that contained his private line urging her with a convincing tone that a formal meeting between them was best. According to him, continuing to see Freddie from afar would not satisfy her and probably enrage Lucas once he finds out. Taking the bulls by the horns so to speak was the way to go. And Lucas was one angry bull, she reflected.

Expelling a large breath, she dialed the number on the card and waited.

The phone rang three times and went off. He didn't answer. Sara turned to grin at Donald, somewhat happy he didn't pick. She took it as a sign from the gods that they didn't have to speak. But Donald's chilling glare forced her to redial the number. He answered on the second ring.

"Hello." His voice was gruff, sounding distracted.

Sara's heart skipped a beat, then ten more, as she struggled quite futilely to breathe.

Not hearing a sound, he repeated, "Hello, who is this?" Sounding impatient.

She swallowed against the lump in her throat as words forced their way into her mouth, threatening to spill. She opened her mouth to speak.

"Daddy, hurry up!" yelled Freddie, his singsong voice cutting through the silence. Sara froze in her spot, remembering the little boy who had spoken just two words to her this morning.

"I'm coming," was his response, then the line went dead.

For a few minutes, Sara remained motionless, picturing the little boy who smiled at her like she was the best thing ever to exist. He was the reason she had agreed to do this, but hearing his voice had weakened her resolve and that unnerved her.

"What happened?" came Donald's query, breaking into her thoughts. "Did he hung up on you?"

Not yet, she opted to say, but thought better of it. "No, I mistakenly cut the call," she mumbled, reaching out to dial his number again. Her son was her priority and she wouldn't let stupid emotions come in the way of that.

This time he answered immediately. And he was furious.

"Listen here, I do not have the time for your childish games. Who the hell am I speaking with?" He demanded.