I do.
That simple response has my face stretching in the most ridiculous smile. It feels out of place after this morning. But drama aside, I can’t help but notice how every day we grow somuch closer. Maybe it’s too soon. We’ve only known each other weeks. Three, to be exact...
But if the intensity of those three weeks was weighted accordingly, it would be more like months.
And what I wouldn’t give for months with Celeste.
Even years.
Maise walks the room, hands on her hips like she’s the boss, not her old man. And the way the guys play the part in her little charade is heartwarming.
Ronan strides over, packing away the tools as Caleb and I install the last few pieces of hardware. “Place is looking stellar, boss man.”
“Tidied up pretty nicely, I reckon.” I let my gaze wander over the finished dining room. We did good. And just in the nick of time.
Miranda saunters in. “Oh, packing up already?”
“All done. All it needs now is a final inspection.” I wave my hands toward the renewed space. She takes a turn around the large old room looking over every section of it, like she hasn’t been here the entire time we’ve been on the job. When she spins back with a smile, hope blooms. “Very nice, Quinton. And on time, too. At this rate, we’ll have you fixing up the rest of the place before long.”
“Any work you can send our way is welcome, Miranda.”
Her smile widens. “I’m sure there is plenty of that.”
Maybe this small-town thing will work out, after all.
Chapter
Twenty-One
CELESTE
My leg jumps on the spot, jostling me in the hard plastic seat. The anxiety-ridden bouncing earns me a filthy look from the older woman in the seat beside mine at Grafton General Hospital.
“Black?” A nurse walks out with a clipboard, looking around the room above our heads like they always do.
“Here!” I shoot off the seat like it’s made of hot coals. And she wastes no time leading me to the family room. Inside sits my father and who I presume is the doctor.
“Miss Black, how are you this morning?” the doctor asks, a shallow smile on his face. I glance at Dad and give him a soft smile.
He stares back, pushing up a polite nod of the head, as if a stranger just walked in with room service. Someone he’ll never see again but can’t bring himself to be impolite to.
I replay the doctor’s question in my mind.How are you?
Do you really want to know?
It’s only been two days since my father left with the paramedics, and the guilt is eating me alive. I’ve barely slept. Every conversation I have with my sister and brother end the same way. And there have been at least five of those with eitherof them, and a group video call that went sideways way too quick. They don’t want Dad in a home.
Nor do I, but . . .
Then there was the night I spent at Quin’s the first time. And I swear, now that I’ve had time to process everything, he was just trying to help by distracting me.
“I’m fine.” I sit on the chair, trying not to let my gaze stick to my father.
“Good, good. Let’s get started, shall we?” he asks Dad this time.
“Whatever you say, Doc.” Dad raises his hands in assent before resting them on his thighs.
“So we have had a chance to reassess the medications as well as observe.” The doctor nods as if questioning my understanding.
