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It was unnerving to meet Charles in person now, and in a hospital, no less. Charles was so much thinner, and his hair was entirely white. The folds on his face sagged with age. He had so many wrinkles.

But there was still that warmth in his eyes, and Grayson took courage from that familiarity.

“H-how are you?” Grayson asked. He figured it was a good place to start. “Well, I hope?”

Charles smiled politely but distantly, as if they were strangers. Which, in a manner of speaking, he supposed they were. Grayson had thought that getting here would be the hard part, that everything after would be easy, but now he understood how wrong he had been.

He hadn’t expected how this would feel, to be in the presence of his grandfather, who had loved Grayson so deeply as a child but then sent him away the first chance he got, as if tired of him.

Grayson thought he was over the pain after all these years, but it still hurt. He swallowed the lump in his throat, walking farther into the room, stopping at Charles’s bedside.

“Fit as a fiddle, as I told Lucy,” Charles replied. His gaze darted away from Grayson’s and back again. It was clear that Charles felt a little awkward himself. “What about you? How are you finding things?”

Grayson sat down, raising his brows. “Where to begin?” he replied.

Charles’s eyes glittered, and Grayson recalled his grandfather’s mischievous streak. “Perhaps with Lucy?” Charles asked.

Grayson’s heartbeat quickened at the mention of her name, a dozen comments coming to his lips all at once. At least talking about Lucy was easier than talking about anything else. He frowned at Charles and said, “You might have warned me.”

“And rob myself of the amusement? Please.”

Grayson gave him an unimpressed glance. “Lucinda wasn’t very happy, to say the least, and nor was I, in truth. The store is in an absolute state.”

“We like it like that,” Charles said. “And about Lucy: Be nice to her.”

“I am always polite,” he replied defensively. “She, on the other hand …”

“She’s a good cookie,” Charles said. “And don’t play semantics with me. Polite is not the same as nice.” He gave him a knowing smile, which made something in Grayson’s chest soften.

“Good cookie”—Grayson grimaced at the colloquialism—“or not … nice is impossible. And the feeling seems mutual.”

From what he’d seen of Lucy with Charles, and with the customers earlier in the day, she could be nice. Just not with him. With him, she was something else entirely.

All she had done so far was make his brief time in the States difficult.

“Anyway,” Grayson said, not wanting to think of Lucy for another moment, “I spoke with the doctors; you gave them a bit of a scare with your blood pressure shooting up the way it did. They were worried that with your preexisting conditions, you may be at risk of a stroke.”

Charles waved a hand, unbothered, and his cavalier attitude made Grayson grind his teeth.

“They’ll continue to monitor you today, and if your vitals stay stable, you can still be discharged tomorrow,” Grayson continued in a level tone. “They feel much better allowing you to go home now that I’m here to look after you.”

Grayson was pleased by that, at least—that he could be useful and take care of his grandfather, even if Grayson himself had not been taken care of. For so many years, he had allowed himself to be bitter and angry, to stay away as others had stayed away, but now he was changing tactics, hoping he might finally find a modicum of peace in his life.

“You didn’t have to come, you know,” Charles said. “I would have been all right. Would have managed.”

The satisfaction Grayson had felt only a moment ago faded. Grayson wasn’t wanted, not even now, when Charles so obviously needed someone to look after him.

Charles didn’t seem to mind Lucy fussing over him. Grayson clenched his jaw.

“Don’t worry about anything,” Grayson said, returning to practicalities. “I’ll pick up some groceries tonight and make sure the house is all ready for you. And I’ll help Lucinda around the shop.”

He would be the bigger person; he would forgive and forge a path forward.

“Good, good.” Charles nodded. “Just confer with Lucy-Lu, and you’ll be all right.”

Grayson slit his eyes. Lucy-Lu. How ridiculous. And yet … adorable. Which was infuriating.

No matter. There was hope for Grayson yet; he would be living with his grandfather when Charles got discharged tomorrow, and Grayson would take care of him. Lucy could not interfere there.