Chapter 209
The suite looked more like a five-star hotel room than a clinic. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes drifting lazily through the air. Grandma Wolfe was sitting up in bed, propped against fluffy pillows. She looked frail, but her eyes were bright.
Gaston was sitting on the edge of the bed.
He held a small paring knife and was peeling an apple, the skin curling away in one long, unbroken red ribbon. His movements were precise and unhurried.
“And then,” Gaston was saying softly, “I told the board that if they wanted to argue with my wife, they’d have to go through me first.”
Grandma chuckled — a raspy, weak sound, but unmistakably a laugh. “Oh, you are a charmer. Just like your grandfather. He was a devil with a silver tongue.”
Gaston smiled. He sliced a piece of the peeled apple and held it out. “Open.”
Grandma opened her mouth. He fed her the slice, then reached for a napkin and dabbed a tiny drop of juice from her chin. The gesture was so tender, so unhurried, that Jocelyn felt a physical ache settle in her chest.
𝗔𝗱𝘥𝗶c𝘵і𝘃𝘦 𝘀𝘁𝘰𝘳𝗶𝖾ѕ o𝗻 𝗴𝖺𝗅no𝗏e𝘭s.сo𝗆
She had never seen a man treat an elderly woman with such patience. Kieran used to check his Rolex every five minutes during visits, tapping his foot, sighing loudly.
Gaston looked up. His eyes found hers across the room. They were warm and, for once, unguarded.
“She’s doing better,” he said quietly. “Dr. Evans says her vitals are up.”
Jocelyn walked in, her legs feeling slightly unsteady. “Thank you. You didn’t have to stay. You have a company to run.”
“Family takes care of family,” Gaston said simply. He didn’t make a production of it. He didn’t ask for credit.
He stood and offered her a slice of apple on the flat of the knife blade. “Eat. You look pale.”
Jocelyn reached out. Her fingers brushed his as she took the slice.
A spark — literal static electricity — zapped them both.
She pulled her hand back slightly but held onto the fruit. She looked at him. Really looked at him. The playboy mask was gone. The ruthless businessman was gone.
How can a man rumored to be a hedonist act like a saint?
Her brain tried to categorize him — Contract Husband, Gay Friend, Business Partner — but none of the labels fit anymore.
“It’s good,” she whispered, biting into the apple. It was crisp and sweet.
Gaston watched her eat, his gaze dropping to her lips for a fraction of a second before he turned back to Grandma.
“See, Grandma? She eats,” he teased. “I’m keeping her alive.”
Dr. Evans stepped out of the room with a clipboard and motioned for them to follow.
“Mrs. Collins, a word?”
Jocelyn nodded. Gaston fell into step beside her, his hand settling naturally on the small of her back. The heat of his palm burned through her blouse.
“Her heart is recovering,” Dr. Evans said, keeping his voice low in the corridor. “But at her age, recovery is as much mental as it is physical. She needs motivation. Something to look forward to.”
“Like the wedding?” Jocelyn asked. “The ceremony is next month.”
.