By the time Jonathan found Gemma, dusk had already settled over the city.
Gemma had wandered so far off she’d gotten herself completely lost. She kept stopping strangers, calling out “Nia,” only to be met with wary glances, as if they thought she’d lost her mind.
Jonathan hadn’t sent anyone else to look for her–he’d come himself, knowing full well that when Gemma’s dementia flared up, anyone else might struggle to calm her down, or worse, risk hurting her if they tried to force her home.
Luckily, Gemma seemed to regain some clarity the moment she saw Jonathan. She blinked at him, realization dawning on her face as she remembered she was supposed to stay at Harmony Senior Residence, not go wandering off.
Jonathan drove her back to the retirement home, made sure she was settled in, and was just about to head back to the hospital when Prescott called. Julian, Lana, Peter, and Preston Winslow were all there, he said, so Jonathan decided against returning for now.
“Don’t mind an old man prying, Mr. Thomas, but… that friend of yours–are you two seeing each other?” Grover asked, his cheeks flushed from the whiskey.
“No.” Jonathan’s answer was quick and flat.
Grover let out a disappointed sigh. “You know, Mr. Thomas, you’re not getting any younger. Sure, you look young, but a good man should settle down. You’ve been all about work for so many years–maybe it’s time to think about a family, huh?”
Jonathan said nothing.
Grover had been out of the business world for years and hadn’t kept up with the gossip; he’d never heard about Jonathan’s marriage to Niamh. Not that Jonathan had any intention of telling him–after all, he and Niamh were getting divorced.
Grover poured himself another glass, shaking his head as he muttered, “You know, Jonathan, you’ve always been wound a little too tight. Never could just say what you mean.”
Jonathan gave a rare smile, which Grover took as agreement.
After their dinner, it was late. Jonathan got into his car, ready to head to Metropolitan General Hospital.
Despite what Grover thought, Jonathan hadn’t completely stayed away from
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Niamh’s bedside. He just always showed up late, when the hospital was quiet and most people were asleep–even the night–shift doctors didn’t always see him.
The royal blue Bentley sliced through the darkness, streetlights flickering by in the rearview mirror.
Metropolitan General Hospital was just coming into view when his phone rang.
“Hey, Marina. What’s up?” Jonathan answered.
“Jonathan, could you help me with something?” Marina’s voice crackled through the car speakers, tight with urgency.
“Of course. What is it?”
“My parents just flew in. I had no idea they were coming–they didn’t even tell me. I’m tied up at work, can you pick them up for me?”
The Bentley glided silently down the road.
“Sure. Have them send me their location. I’ll head over now.”
“Thank you! I knew I could count on you, Jonathan. You’re the best.”
He just grunted his acknowledgment.
He was almost at the hospital’s entrance, the blue Bentley ready to pull in–then, suddenly, he swung the wheel and made a U–turn, heading off in a different direction.
Since Niamh had regained consciousness, Peter had stopped sleeping in the hospital’s family room. He’d offered to stay, but Niamh insisted he shouldn’t put his life on hold, especially when his company needed him back at the helm.
Lana, on the other hand, was on a leave of absence. Niamh felt guilty for keeping her away from her life, too.
“I’m not leaving! I’m sticking to you like glue,” Lana joked, her antics coaxing a laugh from Niamh.
“Just come see me when you’re free,” Niamh said gently. “There’s no need for you to camp out in the hospital. I can always hire a nurse.”
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