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Time apart to let the pain settle until true love could stand on its own in the fresh light of a brand-new day.
And now that I’ve found Grant again, I never want another day away from him for the rest of my life.
I’m pretty sure my thoughts are written all over my face and everyone can see them.
Though I’m probably being too self-conscious about it, reading too much into the curious glance of the checkout girl and everyone I pass on the streets as I finish running errands and head back to Grant’s house—home.
It really is.
He’s made it so clear he wants me to stay.
I go to work happily in the kitchen. A couple hours later, there’s a spicy lasagna slow-baking in the oven next to a version I can actually stomach without my gut catching fire.
By the time I blow through the house, tidying up and showering, the lasagna’s ready.
I cut off a huge chunk and drop it into a Tupperware container, leaving the rest in the oven to stay warm, then head out into the icy late afternoon wind to make my way over to the medical center, humming contentedly under my breath.
It’s so strange to break out of this holding pattern I’ve been in for so long.
It’s bizarre to actually feel alive for the first time in ages.
But it also leaves me bursting and bright, feeling cheerful enough to warm me against the cold, even if I’m cursing myself once again for not picking up a coat as winter muscles in, promising the first snow.
Idiot.
That coat always slips my mind every time I’m out shopping.
I’m grateful for the burst of warm air as I step into the lobby. The nursing staff wave me through, familiar with my daily visits by now, including pointedly pretending not to see the container tucked under my arm and shielded with my body.
We share a subtle smile.
They get it.
Back when I was a nurse, I looked the other way on things like that all the time.
When I get to Ros’ room, I’m surprised to find it empty.
Her bed’s still disarrayed and her clothes are in the dresser, so she’s around somewhere, I guess.
Frowning, I walk over to the nurses’ station and offer a smile to the woman behind the computer.
“Hey, Brandy,” I say. “Have you seen Rosalind? I’m just dropping in to keep her company before she makes you pull your hair out.”
Brandy glances up at me, blinks, and does a double take. A huge smile curls her lips.
“Ophelia! I was just about to call you.”
I blink back at her.
Common sense tells me that smile can’t be bad news, but my heart turns into an anxious little knot anyway.
“Yeah? What’s up?”
“About Ros,” Brandy says, almost slyly. “You might want to check your mother’s room.”
Oh?
It takes a minute for what she means to really click.
