Page 102 of How to Fall for the Secret Billionaire
The doctor smiles gently, flipping Aunt Edie’s chart closed. “It’s nothing alarming, Miss Hartwell. Her vitals are stable. She’s just severely fatigued and slightly dehydrated. Given her age and her cardiac history, her body is telling her it needs more rest.”
I finally breathe.
“She’ll be discharged later this evening. Just make sure she takes it slow for the next few days—light activity, plenty of fluids, regular meals. No stress.”
I nod. Too many times.
When we step out of the office, I lean against the wall, my body sagging with the weight of everything I’d been holding in.
Cal wraps his arms around me without hesitation. Tight. Warm. Steady. Like he’s holding the world still for just a second.
I don’t cry. But I feel it—all of it.
“Thank you, Cal.”
“Oh, please don’t,” he says softly. “I wanted to be here.”
“Thank you,” I say again, my voice barely audible. “Really. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t there.”
He brushes a knuckle down my arm. “You’d have handled it. But I’m glad I was there.”
“My parents and sisters are on their way,” I say after a beat. “You don’t have to wait around here. You should go back to the inn, rest. I’ll stay with her until she’s discharged.”
He hesitates. “Are you sure? I don’t mind staying.”
“I know.” I smile. “But it’s okay. Really.”
He nods slowly, then leans in and presses a soft kiss to my forehead. “I’ll see you later.”
And just like that, he’s gone.
I turn and head back into Aunt Edie’s room, heart still rattled—but grateful. So, so grateful.
When I walk into Aunt Edie’s hospital room, I expect her to still be asleep. Instead, she’s sitting up, propped against a few too-soft pillows, humming along to a song drifting from the little radio on the windowsill.
“Margot,” she says, smiling when she sees me. “Come listen to this. This used to be my absolute favorite. I loved it so much—every word, every chord.”
She sways gently, off-beat and utterly content.
I try to smile, but I must not do a good job of it because she rolls her eyes.
“Oh, come on,” she says, waving a hand. “I’m fine. Don’t look at me like I’m halfway gone.”
“You scared us,” I say, stepping closer. “You scared me.”
Her eyes soften. “I didn’t mean to.”
“The doctor said you need to rest more. Promise me you’ll actually rest this time.”
She sighs dramatically. “Fine. I promise.”
Before I can say anything else, the door swings open and chaos floods the room—Hazel, Thea, Mom, and Dad all spilling in at once with bags, flowers, and overlapping voices.
“There she is?—”
“Aunt Edie, are you okay?—”
“Move, I brought her favorite tea?—”
