Chapter Twenty-six #2
The silence ensued, and we continued our night eating, laughing, and conversing here and there. Amidst the chatter, my gaze drifted to a young couple seated nearby. The way the guy looked at the girl as if she were the only person in the world stirred memories of Ronan and me.
In a flash, I found myself transported back to a moment years ago. Ronan and I were strolling through the streets of Florence, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my heart melt. It was moments like those that made me fall in love with him all over again, despite our past struggles.
Returning to the present, I realized Inaya was watching me with concern. “Are you okay, Nina?” she asked softly. “You look extremely pale.”
I nodded, offering a faint smile and sipping my water. “I’m fine.”
“Alright,” she said, partially convinced, and we finished up our meal, heading back to the hotel as it was getting late and the jet lag was creeping in on her.
“I think I’ll be out a bit later,” I told her, preparing for her inevitable questions.
“Why? Is everything alright?”
“I have something I need to take care of,” I reassured her and grabbed my phone to send a message I knew I’d regret.
Me
Hey. Do you by any chance know where Ronan would be?
I waited around for five minutes until he responded, my heart beating fast.
Dillon Xander
At his hospital, he had a surgery earlier. Is everything okay?
I had no fucking idea if everything was fine; I just knew I needed to see Ronan.
Me
Yeah. Can I get the address?
He quickly sent it, and I booked the Uber, making my way through the city streets. The familiar blend of doubt and apprehension surged within me as I approached the building.
I exited, fixing my red Prada coat and grabbing my purse, then stood in disbelief in front of General Wellness Hospital. The voices in my head were raging with the main question being: why the fuck was I here?
But I brushed it all off and made my way inside, the heel of my stilettos tapping on the shiny porcelain tiles.
Approaching the receptionist’s desk, I cleared my throat and asked, “Good night. Is Dr. Romano available?”
“Good night!” she exclaimed cheerfully. “May I ask who?”
As I opened my mouth to reply, a sudden wave of uncertainty washed over me, causing a knot of nausea in my stomach. I hesitated, my words catching in my throat, realizing perhaps it was a mistake to come here.
Apologizing softly, I turned on my heel, intending to leave swiftly.
“Nina?” His voice stopped me in my tracks, freezing me in place as if my feet were rooted to the ground.
I sighed heavily, slowly turning back around, running a hand through my hair nervously, before I saw him standing there.
“Ronan,” I breathed, barely audible, meeting his gray-blue gaze with my own. After all these years—tabloids, runways, headlines—this was the first time I truly saw him.
He stood in bloodstained scrubs, commanding yet vulnerable under the soft lights of the hospital foyer. It echoed the boy who once dreamed of becoming a doctor, who spoke of it in late-night whispers, who carried the weight of losing his family to cancer.
This was a Ronan I didn’t know. A man who saved lives and lived with their fragility.
I drew a steadying breath as he stepped closer, shock etched across his face.
Truthfully, I was as stunned to be here.
“You’re here…” he said, his voice trailing off in disbelief. “Is everything okay?”
I nodded hesitantly. “Yes.”
“Then w—” He started to inquire further, but I cut him off before the question could embarrass us both.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” he echoed, uncertainty coloring his voice.
“That’s what I said,” I affirmed, my tone rising slightly with nerves.
“In that case,” he said, gesturing for me to follow him. “I’m glad you’re here.”
I fell into step beside him through the busy corridors until we reached his office.
It felt like a quiet sanctuary—warm light, polished wood, framed certifications lining the walls. His desk was neatly chaotic with papers and files, the kind of mess only he could keep organized. I smiled, remembering how he’d fix a crooked shoe or steam a wrinkled shirt without hesitation.
Then I saw it.
A framed photo of me from a summer picnic with hair straightened and in a carefree ponytail, and a smile full of light.
The sight was soft and aching.
He kept it all these years.
I picked up the frame, glancing at him. “This…”
He looked around at me without skipping a beat. “Your birthday.”
“You kept it?” I asked, surprised.
“Why wouldn’t I?” he replied, his tone sincere.
I smiled softly and whispered back, “Right.”
He motioned for me to take a seat in one of the plush armchairs positioned near the window while he went to get changed out of his scrubs.
The office reflected his personality—medical journals beside his desk, a photo from a surgical conference, well-loved novels on a shelf, pictures of loved ones on the wall, and his parents’ wedding ring framed on the highest shelf.
Even in the moments leading up to the night he left, everything was always placed in that way, and it was a breath of fresh air to know he didn’t change much.
“I’m back, sorry,” he said, walking in looking like a different person, his Invictus cologne as strong as ever, and his coat as white as pearls. “Do you prefer if we speak in English or Italian?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “I—”
“Ronan,” a high-pitched feminine voice called out as they burst open the door, “Good, you’re still here. How was the surgery, by the way?”
I couldn’t see their face, as the person hadn’t turned around, but from the color of the hair, I realized it was his assistant, and my grip on the edge of the sofa tightened.
“Surgery was good, and it’s late. What are you doing here?” he jokingly asked.
She leaned against his desk, her hips poking out. “I needed you to sign some documents to submit by five in the morning, and this invitation from the new agency you bought shares in came for you, too.”
“Five in the morning?” he asked in disbelief, a laugh escaping his mouth as he took the papers to sign.
The blood was rushing, and I either needed to leave and give them the time they clearly needed or she needed to leave.
Yeah, she needed to leave.