Chapter 18
18
AMELIA
I sat in the back of the sleek car, Jared’s black card clutched in my hand like it was a live grenade.
Roger seemed nice enough.
He was making small talk, but I felt so out of my element.
It was also very clear he was loyal to Jared.
“Here,” I said, leaning forward and holding out the card.
“Jared forced me to take this, but I don’t need it. You can give it back to him.”
Roger chuckled, shaking his head.
“I’d like to keep my head on my neck, Dr. Pritchard. If Jared says you’re using that card, I’m not taking it from you.”
I groaned, slumping back in my seat.
“This is ridiculous. I don’t need him to buy me things.”
Roger glanced at me in the mirror, his expression amused.
“You’re not the first person to say that. But trust me, it’s easier to just go along with it. Jared gets what Jared wants.”
I rolled my eyes, muttering under my breath.
“Yeah, I’m starting to see that.”
Roger chuckled softly as he navigated the car through the busy Miami traffic.
“You know, Jared’s not everyone’s cup of tea. He’s intense. Blunt. Doesn’t sugarcoat things. People either love him or they don’t understand him at all.”
That was an understatement.
“And where do you fall in that?”
He grinned.
“Oh, I’m firmly in the ‘love him’ camp. But it took a while to get there. When he first hired me, I thought he was the most arrogant, insufferable man I’d ever met. And don’t get me wrong—he can still be both of those things—but there’s more to him than most people see.”
I leaned forward slightly, resting my arms on the back of his seat.
“Like what?”
For a moment, he seemed to be choosing his words carefully.
Like maybe he didn’t want to tell me.
“Like the fact that he’s paid for at least a dozen kids’ surgeries out of his own pocket. Or that he’s gone to war with insurance companies that were giving people a hard time. Trust me, I’ve been the guy sitting right here while he has let them have it. Usually, he wins. When he doesn’t, he covers the difference or does the work pro bono. He’s got this reputation as this cold, unfeeling genius, but that’s not the whole story.”
I sat back, absorbing his words.
It was hard to reconcile the Jared I knew—the brash, confident man who seemed to thrive on making people uncomfortable—with the man he was explaining.
“I think he likes to be an asshole,” I muttered.
Roger laughed. “I think you’re right.”
We pulled up to a luxury shopping center, the kind of place I’d only ever seen in magazines.
The buildings were sleek and modern, with high-end boutiques and designer stores lining the sidewalks.
It was the kind of place where a single dress could cost more than…
well more than anything I owned.
“I don’t think this is the right place,” I said.
“This is where he told me to bring you.”
“This isn’t exactly what I had in mind,” I said, glancing at Roger.
“I was thinking more along the lines of a department store. A mall with more affordable options. I’ve never touched anything Gucci, let alone attempted to purchase a name like that. Louis Vuitton. Tory Burch. I’m sorry, Roger, but I can’t shop here. I’ll take a cab. You don’t need to drive me around.”
“Sorry, Dr. Pritchard?—”
“Please, call me Amelia,” I said.
“ Amelia , Jared sent me a list. We’re hitting all the high-end spots, and then you’ve got an appointment at a salon nearby.”
I sighed, shaking my head.
“Do I have a choice?”
“Technically, yes,” Roger said, his tone apologetic.
“But we both know Jared gets what Jared wants.”
I groaned, but there was no point in arguing.
If Jared wanted to throw his money around, fine.
But I wasn’t going to make it easy for him.
If he thought he could just buy his way into my pants, he had another thing coming.
“Will you be coming with me or will you be waiting in the car? You really don’t have to wait. I can call a cab and get to the hotel.”
He laughed again.
“Sorry, Amelia. You and I are going to be spending the afternoon together.”
“Alright, let’s do this.” I smiled.
I stepped into the boutique, the air itself feeling expensive, like it had been doused in some luxury perfume.
My fingers brushed against a rack of silky dresses.
I exhaled sharply, jerking my hand back as if I might sully their fine fabrics.
This was madness. Completely unnecessary.
But if Jared was going to force me into this, I wasn’t going to half-ass it.
Roger lingered a few steps behind, his hands clasped politely in front of him.
“Anything catch your eye?” he asked, his tone light but with a hint of amusement.
Like he was enjoying my discomfort.
“Everything,” I muttered, flipping through a row of dresses.
“And none of it.” I pulled out a sleek black number, holding it up to myself in the mirror.
It was simple but elegant—exactly my style.
The price tag made me wince.
The clothing felt like it was made for women half my size.
Did the designers know women had hips?
I grabbed a few more dresses off the rack, my fingers hesitating over the price tags, and settled on two.
Both were beautiful.
Both were outrageously expensive.
I held them up, giving myself a onceover in the mirror.
“Alright,” I muttered to myself.
“Let’s see if these are worth the price of a small car.” I glanced over my shoulder at Roger, who was leaning casually against a display table, scrolling on his phone.
“I’m taking these to the dressing room,” I announced, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
He looked up and nodded.
“Take your time. I’ll be here.”
The dressing room was a whole experience in itself—plush carpet, soft lighting, and a full-length mirror framed in gold.
I hung the dresses on the hooks and stared at them for a moment, feeling a strange mix of excitement and guilt.
This wasn’t me. I didn’t do things like this.
I bought my clothes on sale, at places where I could justify the cost with a mental calculation of how many meals or bills it equated to.
But Jared had forced this on me, and if he was going to insist, I wasn’t going to waste it.
I slipped out of my casual clothes and into the black dress first, pulling it over my head and letting it fall into place.
To my surprise, it actually fit very well.
I almost looked sexy.
The other dress was not as nice.
I left it in the fitting room and took the black dress with me.
“This’ll do for the conference,” I said, tossing it over my arm.
Roger nodded approvingly but didn’t comment.
Next, I found a pair of tailored trousers and a blouse that wouldn’t look out of place in a boardroom.
Practical. Professional.
Not that Jared would appreciate either of those things.
He probably expected me to waltz out of here in something strapless and glittery, ready to play arm candy at his ridiculous gala.
By the time we were done, I had a several shopping bags.
I felt ready.
“Salon next,” he said before leading me to a high-end beauty parlor a few blocks away.
I didn’t argue. If Jared wanted me to look the part, fine.
I’d let them do whatever they wanted with my hair.
I sat in the chair, watching in the mirror as the stylist worked her magic.
Roger settled into a nearby seat, his head nodding as he dozed off.
It was kind of cute, and I couldn’t help but smile.
But as the afternoon crept on, I started to feel a knot of anxiety forming in my stomach.
There was one thing I needed to do today that I didn’t want Roger to know about.
Jared didn’t need to know all my secrets.
“Hey,” I said, shaking him gently in the chair.
“I need to run an errand. I can get a cab.”
Roger blinked, rubbing his eyes.
“What kind of errand?”
“Just… something personal,” I said, my tone vague.
“I’ll be there for a while, so you don’t need to wait. I can walk to the convention center and hotel from there. It’s not far.”
Roger hesitated, his brow furrowed.
“I don’t know, Dr. Pritchard. Jared said?—”
“Jared said to make sure I used his card,” I interrupted, holding up the shopping bags.
“Which I did. And he said to take me to the salon. Which you did. This is just… a personal thing. Please.”
Roger studied me for a moment, then sighed.
“Fine. But your shopping bags are going to the hotel. I’ll have them brought up to your room.”
I nodded, relief flooding through me.
“Thank you, Roger. I really appreciate it. That would be wonderful.”
He drove me to the address I gave him, a few blocks away from my mom’s care facility.
I climbed out of the car.
My heart pounding, I watched him drive away.
Then I turned and hurried down the sidewalk, my stomach in knots.
The care facility was a nice place, modern and clean, with a staff that was always kind and professional.
But no matter how nice it was, it was still a place where people went to die.
And my mom was one of them.
I was escorted to her room.
My hands trembled as I pushed open the door.
She was sitting in a chair by the window, her frail body wrapped in a blanket.
Her hair was thin and gray, her face lined with age and illness.
But when she looked at me, her eyes were bright, filled with a kind of innocence that broke my heart.
“Oh, look at you!” she said, her voice soft and sweet.
“You’re such a beautiful little girl. Is your daddy home yet? He said he’d take us to the Christmas market.”
I felt a lump rise in my throat.
She was stuck in the past. Nearly thirty years ago.
I forced a smile. “Not yet. He’s still at work.”
She nodded, her expression dreamy.
“Oh, that’s right. He’ll be home soon. We’ll go to the market, and you can see the lights. You’ll love it.”
I sat down beside her, taking her hand in mine.
It was cold and fragile, like a bird’s wing.
“Yeah, Mom. I’m sure I will.”
The nurse came in a few minutes later, her expression sympathetic.
“She’s been like this all week,” she said.
“She thinks it’s Christmas, and she’s waiting for your father to come home.”
I nodded, my chest tight.
“I know. She’s been like this for a while.”
“Can we step out for a minute?” she asked.
My heart dropped into my stomach.
I knew what was coming.
It was the talk. The one I had been dreading for years.
When her health started to fail, I knew it was only a matter of time.
“Of course,” I said.
The nurse hesitated, a sympathetic smile on her lips.
“Dr. Pritchard, I need to be honest with you. Your mother’s health is declining. She’s not eating much, and she’s losing weight. We’re doing everything we can, but… I don’t think she has much time left. You’ve said you don’t want life-saving measures. Is that still your decision?”
I closed my eyes, the tears threatening to spill over.
I’d known this was coming but hearing it out loud was like a punch to the gut.
“Yes,” I murmured. “How long?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
“It’s hard to say,” the nurse said, her tone gentle.
“A few months, maybe less. I’m sorry. These things are impossible to predict. Sometimes, it happens fast.”
I nodded, swallowing hard.
“Thank you for telling me.”
I went back into the room.
I stayed with my mom for a while longer, holding her hand and listening to her talk about the Christmas market.
It was a memory from her childhood, one that had stuck with her even as everything else faded away.
When it was time to go, I kissed her forehead and promised to come back soon.