"Sure. I need a signature here, and you're free to go."
Nathan signs the discharge papers as I text Alice and Cindy.
"Perfect, you’re free to go. Don't put in too much effort and no lifting weights ... or people." Christian winks at Nate.
"Thanks, Christian. You’re always welcome in London." I hug him and notice Nate's gaze on us, but I smile and he relaxes.
"Thanks. I'll think about it. We haven't even had time to talk, and I need a vacation."
"Our house is always open, and I owe you my life," Nate says, shaking his hand.
He says goodbye and leaves.
"Are you better, love?" Nate asks worriedly.
"Yes, a little better."
"Tea and biscuits for a handsome patient," says a young nurse who enters the room.
I burst out laughing to see Nathan embarrassed.
"Actually, the tea is for my wife,” he says as the nurse tries to get out of the room as quickly as possible, embarrassed. I guess she didn't know he was married, or they just played a joke on her.
"Hmmm. Do I have to worry about her?" I ask, pointing at the nurse who left the room.
"My heart belongs only to the woman I love."
"Great answer," I say, kissing him.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Nate
Home. Two days after our discharge, we return to London. Never before have I been happy to be back home. As soon as we open the front door, I find all my colleagues and friends to welcome us. Isabel and Cindy have organized a surprise party.
I’m with my team when I spot Alice, Cindy, and Isabel, who are on the sidelines and passing each other a package, trying to be discreet—in vain.
When they notice they've been busted, they retreat to Izy's office.What’s going on?
The party continues, and after a couple of hours, the guests slowly return to their homes.
There’s just us, Cindy and CJ, Alice, and our parents.
Dad pulls me aside and we go to the terrace.
"How do you feel, Nathan?"
"A little tired, but I'm not complaining. I'm home and that's what counts."
"Yeah, you made us worry, you know?"
I look at him, biting my tongue so as not to answer.
"Isabel opened my eyes the other day."
"Izy? About what?" I ask, taking a sip of beer.
"About the fact that I failed as a father." His response makes me choke on the beer. "She didn't use those words. She was much more diplomatic in exposing all my failures, one by one. I want to tell you that I'm sorry."
