As we eat, I observe Peter interacting with my parents. Though I know he’d much rather be alone with me, he’s again polite and respectful… downright kind in his manner. Going up and down the stairs seems to have aggravated my dad’s arthritis, so Peter helps him with his walker—and does it so casually and deftly that my dad forgets to take offense.
At first, my parents are wary and reserved, but as the meal goes on, they seem to warm up to Peter—even my dad, despite whatever Ryson must’ve told him. It helps that Peter takes charge of the conversation, barraging my parents with questions about how they met and what I was like as a child instead of waiting for them to pry into his murky past.
“Sara was such a perfect baby, you wouldn’t believe,” Mom tells Peter, beaming at me. “Slept all th
