My Italian Doctor

Chapter Thirty Five

I had spent most of that afternoon fielding questions from Kat about George. The git had gone and told her that he was my boyfriend. She wouldn't let it drop and kept complaining that I sent her over to him without filling her in first on who he was. She had a point but I wouldn't have told anyone who he was and it certainly wasn't clear-cut enough for me to introduce him as my boyfriend.

I decided to bite the bullet and messaged my dad.

Emily: Do you want to meet up for tea tonight?

Dad: Sounds great punk. When and where?

Emily: I'm going to try and get off early, so I will swing by the office when I'm done. Nothing fancy though. I'm thinking chippy in the park is perfect.

Dad: You are aware it's winter?

Emily: And?

Dad: Alright punk, if that's what you want.

It was odd seeing my childhood nickname in the messages. I couldn't remember the last time I had seen or heard it. I probably should have pre-warned him that I was bringing George along with me. I wanted him to meet George and make his own judgement of him before I spoke to him about it all. He was a good judge of character and I wanted to know if he got the same impression of George that the rest of us had done when we met him.

"Kat, you know you love me?"

"Whatever it is you want from me, not a change in hell."

"Would you mind locking up for me tonight? It's late, there's no one around anyway. You will probably be sitting here doing nothing for the next hour. I'm going to take George to meet my dad."

"Go on then, seeing as it's for a good cause, but you owe me missy." I sprang up and kissed her on the cheek, holding onto her arms as I did.

"You're a star. Definitely my favourite workmate."

"I've already said yes, so you can stop trying to butter me up. Go on scoot." I bolted up the stairs and grabbed my things from my locker. Before heading the short distance back to the flat.

When I walked in, George was sitting on the sofa reading some sort of document. It amazed me slightly that he had travelled so far from home and yet had still managed to bring work with him. I didn't even greet him. I just ran straight past and into my room to start getting changed into something more suitable for a night sitting in a cold park.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting ready to head out." I looked over at him and took in the flimsy tee he was wearing. "Do you own anything warmer?"

"No, I don't tend to need anything more than a tee most of the time."

"That was before you came to England. Did you not bring a jumper or a coat or anything?"

"No. I didn't really think about it." I turned back to the wardrobe and pulled out a battered-looking, very roomy man's hoodie and threw it at him.

"Put that on." He obliged but didn't look impressed at all, not that I could blame him. "Get your things, we need to go."

"Are you planning on telling me where?"

"I will tell you on the way or we will be late." I practically dragged him out of the flat, very nearly forgetting my bag. I was dressed casually and had only chucked on my trainers which had become my go-to shoes. I was glad because it enabled me to keep up a quick pace all the way to the office. Once we reached the door, George pulled me to a stop.

"You said you would tell me where we are going and it looks like we're here, so where are we going?"

"To pick my dad up."

He looked so angry I thought he would burst. "Emily! You can't spring that on me. Especially when I'm dressed like this." He did look peculiar in his smart dress shoes and a casual hoodie over his pale blue shirt.

"My dad won't care."

"I do!"

"Well, you can go back and get changed but then you will be late. So, which would you prefer to be dressed like that or be late?" It was a trick question I already knew the answer. He started moving with me again into the lobby but he was doing it like a stroppy teenager with his shoulders slumped. Between his attitude and the hoodie, he looks hilarious.

I pressed the button on the lift and we stood waiting for it while every passerby gave George odd looks. I was smiling from ear to ear, it felt like payback for him telling Kat about us. When we finally reached Dad's floor, he was standing at reception talking to Candice and walked over to us as soon as he spotted us. Giving George some very odd looks which George wouldn't know the meaning of, but I did.

My dad walked over to me and kissed me on the cheek before shaking George's hand. "Dad, this is George."

"Is it now? Did you dress him like that on purpose?"

"Yes, and it serves him right."

"I'm not sure what crime he committed to deserve that but you really are evil. George, my daughter has loaned you a forest hoodie, who are rivals with the local football team. I gave it to her for Christmas one year as a joke present." George looked at me in horror. I shouldn't have been so cruel, but my dad at least would see the funny side. If anything, he would be nicer to George because of it.

"It's nice to meet you, sir."

"David is fine, come on let's go."

"Dad, you seem to be forgetting a crucial piece of equipment."

"Sugar! Yeah, hold tight, I'll only be a second." Off he went at a run. I grabbed George's hand and held onto it.

"You won't be forgiven that easily."

"It's a family joke, you'll be fine. Plus, it is the only men's jumper I own. So it was that or a pink v-neck sweater." I smiled up at him with my sweetest smile and hoped he would forgive me, then changed my mind. "You shouldn't have told Kat about us. Payback is something I believe in very strongly."

"Yes, me too. You just wait..." He stopped mid-sentence as my dad came back down the corridor towards us.

"Come on then punk, let's go play some ball." George gave me a surprised look. Despite the fact that I had told him he had judged me wrongly, he clearly still thought of me as a snob who never did anything unladylike. If that was the stance he was taking, he was in for a shock.

I left the pair of them in the park while I went and ordered the chips, although George protested heartily that he should go and get them. I could see them both sitting on a bench with their backs towards me but they looked deep in conversation. I had engineered it on purpose to give my dad time to probe him for information like I knew he would. That way, when I got time to talk to Dad, he would know enough about George to give me an honest response.

I grabbed the three newspaper-covered parcels and paid via contactless before heading over the road and joining them. Part of me had chosen the chippy to see how George would react to it. I knew from Luca's first time with me and Rylie that it could be quite a culture shock. It seemed I had a habit of setting him up to look daft.

I sat down next to George, leaving him right in the middle of me and Dad. I knew Dad was thinking the same as me and we both sat and watched as George started unwrapping the little parcel. The second he put the first chip in his mouth he pulled the most awful face. "Why are they soggy, chips aren't meant to be soft."

"Well, in England they are." I laughed at him and started tucking into my own portion. George was really taking his time over his, unlike me and Dad who were shovelling them in as fast as possible. We were more concerned about getting to the main event of the night. I ran the rubbish to the bin, while Dad headed onto the grass. I pulled my hoodie off and chucked it in a pile on the grass. Dad, following my lead, did the same with his suit jacket. Dumping it a goal width away from my garment.

I jumped into the middle of the items and got into my stance ready to go, with my knees bent and my hands up. "Ready when you are old man." Despite being ready, I misjudged the ball completely and he caught me right in the stomach. I fell backwards onto my backside from the force. George watched on in horror and abandoned his chips in favour of checking on me.

I was already on my feet by the time he reached me. "Are you OK?"

"I'm fine, move out of the way." I gave him a little shove and got ready for the next shot. He really had no idea just how competitive we both were.