There seems to be a lack of your once-favorite romance novels. I always believed the real thing was better than fiction. But if you’re willing to rewrite our story, I promise to make it a bestseller.
I pressed the note to my chest, fighting a grin. Maybe Ivy was right. Maybe it was time to stop running and give happy endings a chance.
Starting with dinner.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Henry
I was halfway to Mason’s office when my phone rang. James’s nurse’s number flashed on the screen, and my stomach dropped. She never called this early.
“Mr. Kingston? You need to come to Madison Center right away. Your grandfather...” She hesitated. “There’s been a change in his condition.”
I made an illegal U-turn, my heart pounding. “What kind of change?”
“He’s asking for you. And...” Another pause. “We’ve called your mother.”
The rest of her words blurred as I pressed the accelerator. I’d planned to meet Mason to determine where his loyalties lay in this fight against my father. But none of that mattered now.
Something was off the moment I stepped into James’s room. The morning sun poured through the windows as usual, but his chair by the window, always occupied at thishour, sat empty. Instead, he remained in bed—a sight entirely unlike him.
“Grandfather?” I approached quietly, noting how pale he looked against the white sheets.
His eyes blinked open, taking a moment to focus. “Henry.” His voice was weaker than usual, but the familiar warmth was still there. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me.”
“Never.” I sat beside him, ignoring how my stomach knotted at his appearance. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’m tired of people asking me how I’m feeling.” He attempted to sit up, and I hurried to help adjust his pillows. “Tell me something interesting instead. How’s Savvy?”
Heat crept up my neck. “She’s... We’re...”
“Ah.” His eyes twinkled with familiar mischief. “That good, hmm?”
“Grandfather—”
“I may be dying, Henry, but I’m not dead yet.” He patted my hand. “And I’m not blind either. I see the way you look at her. The way she looks at you when she thinks no one’s watching.”
A nurse appeared in the doorway, her professional demeanor slipping as her eyes flicked to the monitors. She frowned at the numbers, jotting quick notes in his chart with a practiced efficiency.
“I need to speak with Dr. Harrison,” she said, her voice neutral. “Mr. Kingston, would you mind stepping into the hall for a moment?”
James’s hand shot out, gripping my wrist with surprising strength. “Whatever needs to be said can be said here. I’ve never been one for secrets.”
The nurse hesitated, then nodded. “Your latest readings are concerning. The blood pressure?—”
She stopped as James went rigid, his face going slack.
“Grandfather?” Alarm shot through me as his eyes lost focus. “I need help in here!”
The next few minutes were chaos. More nurses rushed in, followed by doctors speaking in rapid medical shorthand. Words like “pressure” and “bleeding” filtered through my panic. Someone tried to usher me out, but James’s grip on my wrist remained firm.
“Stay,” he commanded, his voice suddenly clear. “There are things you need to know.”
The doctor hesitated, then nodded. “Five minutes. Then we need to run tests.”
When we were alone again, James’s eyes locked onto mine with fierce intensity. “Listen, Henry. In my desk, there’s a blue folder. Everything you’ll need is there—my lawyer’s contact information, the trust documents, the people you’ll need to talk to. I’ve been preparing for this longer than your father knows.”
“Grandfather, don’t—” My voice cracked. “You can rest. We can talk about this later.”