Chapter 124
“Drive safe–text me when you get home, okay?”
“I will. Don’t worry.”
He watched as Marina got into her car, her rose–pink convertible vanishing at the end of the quiet road.
“Come on, let’s go inside.”
For the first time that evening, Jonathan spoke directly to Niamh. But the oversized bouquet he was carrying hid his face completely, making it impossible for her to read his expression.
She followed Jonathan into the villa, sneezing more than once along the way–the pollen from the flowers was getting to her.
Jonathan didn’t seem to notice, nor did he ask about it.
The place was beautiful, nestled among rolling hills with crisp, fresh air–a perfect retreat from the city.
As dusk settled over the mountain resort, lights began to twinkle on in the spa lodge, casting everything into a peaceful hush.
Jonathan said nothing the entire way, as if he had nothing at all to say to Niamh.
“Jonathan, about the divorce…”
Niamh couldn’t hold back any longer. As she spoke, Jonathan finally shifted the bouquet aside.
At last, she could see his face.
Jonathan had one of those mouths that always seemed to carry a hint of a smile, even when he wasn’t trying. But tonight, his lips were pressed into a straight, almost sullen line.
He looked–if anything–angry.
“If you don’t want Granddad to have a heart attack, then don’t bring it up. Not a
word.”
His tone wasn’t sharp, but it was cold as ever–utterly devoid of feelir
Niamh knew exactly what he meant by “not a word.”
1/3
11:58
The divorce.
That wasn’t happening tonight.
City Hall had closed hours ago.
She sighed inwardly.
Despite being called a “wellness center,” the spa resort was nothing like a hospital. Clifford’s room looked nothing like a patient ward; it was more like a suite in a palace–richly decorated and impossibly grand.
Inside, Sprague and Marigold were both there.
On any other day, neither of them would have bothered to hide their disdain for Niamh–especially Marigold.
Usually, it would be a lecture about her being late, or a complaint about her showing up empty–handed.
But this time, to Niamh’s surprise, Marigold didn’t scold her. She even pulled up a chair so Niamh could sit by Clifford’s bedside.
Sprague was uncharacteristically attentive, handing her a tissue when she sneezed. Niamh was taken aback.
In three years of marriage, she’d never been treated this kindly by them. Especially considering that only yesterday, Sprague himself had drawn up the divorce papers for her and Jonathan.
“Granddad, how are you feeling?”
As soon as Clifford heard Niamh had arrived, he sat up straight in bed.
He looked frail, but his eyes were bright, and Niamh felt her anxiety ease a little.
“Nia… You’ve had a rough time lately, haven’t you?”
Niamh wasn’t sure if Clifford was talking about the endless abuse she’d been getting online, or about Sprague pushing Jonathan to divorce her.
Maybe both.
“Don’t you worry, sweetheart. I may be old, but I’m not dead yet!”
As he said it, Niamh noticed Clifford shoot a scathing look at his son.
Sprague looked thoroughly uncomfortable.
2/3
Ghap
So that was it. Sprague and Marigold were only being nice because Clifford had pas his foot down.
Niamh was grateful for Clifford’s support–but she realized, too, that Jonathan’s sudden refusal to go through with the divorce was probably because of this
pressure.
“Nia…”
Clifford’s gentle voice pulled her back from her thoughts.
“This time, our family owes you. Whatever you want as compensation–just say the word. If you ask for the moon, I’ll find a way to get it for you.”
Clifford’s earnest promise made Niamh smile despite herself.
“I don’t want anything. I don’t need compensation. I just want you to stay healthy, Granddad. That’s all that matters to me.”
“Always the sweetest. Far better than my own grandson.” Clifford laughed, and the tension in the room melted away as they chatted.
“But even so, someone has gone too far this time. I can’t let it slide. You deserve
you want?” something in return–so tell me, what do
Realizing Clifford was serious, Niamh’s smile faded.
“I want…”
A divorce.
She lifted her gaze towards Jonathan.
