16. Elijah
Istride into the hospital lobby, smelling antiseptic hitting my nostrils.
“Why are we here?” Gemma walks close behind me.
I glance back at her over my shoulder, my expression impassive. “You’ll see soon enough.”
I hate hospitals. The fluorescent lights, the hushed conversations, and the underlying scent of chemicals and disinfectants trying to mask something worse make my skin crawl. But this visit is necessary if I want Gemma to understand.
We ride the elevator up to the fourth floor in tense silence. With each ding announcing our ascent, my palms grow clammier. I jam them into my pockets and stare straight ahead. Gemma fidgets beside me, her fingers toying with the strap of her purse.
When the doors slide open, I lead the way down the sterile white hallway.
I pause at room 417 and turn to the first woman outside our family I allow to see him.
“We need to be quiet. He should be asleep by now.”
Gemma bends forward, starting to take off her heels. So fucking adorable. She honestly thinks being quiet means going into full stealth mode.
“Whoa, hold up there, my gem.” I grab her wrist before she can remove the second heel, amused by her misunderstanding. “What are you doing?”
Gemma blinks up at me with those big eyes. “You said we need to be quiet. I thought... this was the polite thing to do…”
I grin at her innocent earnestness. Kneeling down, I grasp the shoe she managed to wrestle off and guide her foot back into it. My fingers linger on her ankle, savoring the warmth of her soft skin. Up close, I catch the faint floral scent of her perfume. Intoxicating.
Gemma’s cheeks flush under my intense gaze. I love how easily I can fluster her with the slightest touch. She bites that full lower lip, and I’m seized with the sudden urge to run my tongue along the indentation of her teeth.
Our faces are inches apart, her eyes wide and lips parted. God, I want to kiss her right now. I force myself to straighten up and take a step back, trying to prevent myself from doing something reckless, like… yank her against me.
“Don’t worry, my father’s not a light sleeper. We won’t disturb him.”
“Your father?”
“Yeah, my dad’s a patient here. That’s who we’ve come to see.” I push open the door to room 417. But the sight that greets us isn’t what I expected.
Shit. Instead of my old man sleeping, he’s sitting upright in the hospital bed, very much awake. His rheumy blue eyes lock onto me, then flick to Gemma at my side. His wrinkled face lights up.
“Elijah,” he says, voice gravelly but commanding as ever. “It’s about time you got here.”
I cross over to him, taking his bony hand in mine. “Of course. How are you feeling today?”
He gives a feeble shrug. “As well as can be expected. But you haven’t introduced me to your lovely guest.” His gaze shifts to Gemma lingering by the door.
I beckon her over. “This is Gemma. She’s...” I falter, not quite sure how to define her role in my life.
“Is this the one you told me about, Elijah? Your fiancé?”
I open my mouth to correct him. “Well, actually, she’s—”
“Yes, that’s me.” She interlopes her hand with mine.
Why does that feel so good? Not only hearing her say it but also holding her hand.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Mr. Milton,” she says.
“Please, call me Charles.” His eyes crinkle at the corners. Then he tilts his head to me. “But I thought you said her name is Julia?”
That canny old—Fuck. I shoot Gemma a warning look, but she doesn’t see me, diving headfirst into the lie.
“Julia is my middle name.” She shifts. “Gemma… Julia Barron. But everyone calls me Gemma.”
Christ, she’s a terrible liar. I pinch the bridge of my nose, grimacing. Dad’s not an idiot. Doesn”t she wonder why he said Julia instead of Esther? He set up the trap, and she walked right into it.
He lets out a hearty laugh that dissolves into a ragged coughing fit.
When had I last heard him laugh like that?
I grab the cup of water from his bedside table, holding it to his cracked lips as he drinks.
Too long ago.
My father winks at Gemma. “You’re a sly one, aren’t you? I can see why my son’s so smitten.”
A flush creeps up her cheeks as her eyes dart towards me, questioning.
“Dad...” I glance over at the heart monitor beeping beside my father’s bed, avoiding her stare. “Why are you still awake? You need your rest.”
He waves his frail hand. “Hush now, son. I want to get to know this lovely young woman.”
I huff out a breath but don’t argue. The old man’s as stubborn as a bull.
He turns to Gemma and beckons her closer with his knobby-knuckled hand. “Though I must admit, I had my doubts you existed.”
I roll my eyes, scoffing. “Don’t act so shocked, old man. I’m not completely hopeless.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” Even bedridden, the bastard’s quick wit hasn’t dulled.
Gemma steps forward, hands clasped in front of her like a schoolgirl called to the principal’s office. She’s got no reason to be nervous. The old man’s already head over heels with her. I can tell by the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he talks with her.
“So Gemma, what is it you do?” Dad asks.
She relaxes a bit at the innocuous question. “I, um, I’m designing fashion. I’ve been working on my own line.”
“A creative talent! We could use more of that around here,” Dad says. “We must get you connected with our textiles division. I’m sure they’d be thrilled to work with someone as lovely as yourself.”
Gemma flushes at the compliment and my heart swells. Having her here, chatting with my father, it feels... right somehow. Like she belongs here with us. With me.
“Already in the works, dad.”
I glance at Gemma, watching her chat comfortably with my father. Her warm aura brightens the dreary hospital room in a way I’ve never experienced before. She has this glow about her that makes even the old man’s eyes shine brighter despite the dark circles beneath them.
Part of me had hesitated to bring her here. I don’t let people see this side of my world. But now, seeing how quickly she put my father at ease, I’m glad I did.
“How did you two meet?” Dad turns his attention to me.
I tense, clearing my throat as Gemma looks over to me, eyebrows raised.
“We met at a gala.” It”s not a lie, though not the full truth either. I’m not about to tell my conservative father we first crossed paths at a club and had sex. “Connor introduced us.”
Gemma nods along to my account. “Connor. Yes. I remember thinking Elijah was handsome in his suit.”
“Was?” I lean to her.
“Is,” she says.
If only she knew the thoughts running through my head when I first saw her in that sexy black dress.
“Well, I’m pleased my boy met a woman worth settling down for,” Dad says.
My future wife. Marriage has never been part of my plan. But looking at Gemma now, could I? With her?
No. I force the thought away. She recently got a divorce. I won’t trap her like that. She deserves more.
Dad’s eyes start drooping, and I straighten his blankets. “You should rest now. The nurses will be pissed if I’ve overexerted you again.”
“If you insist.” He sighs in resignation and nods. “It was lovely to meet you, dear. You’ll come to visit again sometime?”
“Absolutely.” Gemma squeezes his hand.
“Ms. Barron, do an old man a favor and keep an eye on this delinquent son of mine, would you?” He tilts his chin in my direction.
Gemma’s gaze meets mine, equal parts amused and flustered. “Of course, Mr. Mil—Charles.”
“Goodnight, Dad.” I shake my head but can’t quite suppress a smile as I guide her towards the door, my hand finding the familiar curve of her lower back. And again, this feels… right.
His soft snores follow us out into the hall.
“He’s wonderful.” She twirls around. “I can see where you get your charm. Like father, like son.”
I snort, the sound at odds with the lump in my throat. “Wait ’til you hear his stories about me as a boy.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes, like the time I ‘borrowed’ Dad’s car when I was 15. Or when I got suspended for three days in high school for getting into a fight.”
Gemma laughs. “Now I really want to hear those stories.”
“Well, you’ll have to come back and visit to get all the juicy details.” I wink, eliciting another silvery laugh.
There’s something about Gemma that makes everything seem a little brighter, a little more hopeful. I can’t remember the last time I smiled and laughed this much.
“Come on. I’ll get you home.” I take her hand, relishing its warmth.
As we walk down the sterile hallway, I feel her gaze on me, likely burning with a hundred questions.
She stops. There we go.
I turn around. Her eyes focused on the floor.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“Cancer. He’s dying.” I squeeze her hand. “That’s why I’m engaged to Esther. It is his last wish to see me settled down before…”
This wasn’t how I envisioned this evening going.
I brace myself for the barrage of follow-up questions, and the pity so many give when they learn of my father’s condition.
She doesn’t speak, wraps her arms around me, and holds me tight. I tense at first but sink into her embrace as she caresses my back. No judgment or questions.
I hadn’t wanted to expose this part of myself. But Gemma had to understand why I’m engaged to Esther. Why I have to make my father’s dying wish come true, even if it means being engaged to someone I don’t like.
This is the only way she’ll stop fighting what’s between us. The only way she’ll realize and understand why I’m doing what I’m doing.
“How are you feeling about it?”
I shrug. “It is what it is.”
“Thank you for bringing me here.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You think I had a choice? Although I should be thanking you for playing along so seamlessly.”
She ducks her head, cheeks flushing. “I’m sorry for stepping in like that and lying about being your fiancé. I didn’t mean to over—”
Acting on impulse, I cut her off by cupping her face and crashing my lips against hers. She makes a muffled sound of surprise before melting into the kiss. I walk us backward until her back hits the wall, pinning her there with my body.
Breaking the kiss, I murmur against her lips, “I wouldn’t have it any other way, my gem.”
“Oh? And why’s that?”
I place scorching kisses along her jawline. “Because the sight of you flustered is fucking irresistible.”
“That’s not a very good reason.”
She whimpers as I nip at the sensitive spot below her ear.
“Isn’t it?” I grind my hips against hers, letting her feel how hard I am already. “You’re telling me you don’t get off on this? On me claiming you as mine in front of my father?”
She blinks up at me, lips parted. I have to resist the urge to kiss her again.
“But... your father thinks…”
“That you’re my fiancé? Not Esther? So what?” I shrug. “He likes you better. And so do I.”
Gemma’s fingers tangle in my hair, holding me against her neck. “You’re an arrogant asshole.”
“I never claimed otherwise.” I suck a mark into the crook of her neck. “Now, are you going to be a good girl and keep quiet? Or do I need to find a better way to shut you up?”
She’s mine. Propriety and engagements be damned.