How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

"No, she's just been in her room, calling friends and relatives, bragging about how beautiful her great-granddaughter is and inviting them over to visit."

Jarrod strode over and stood behind Elodie, gently unwrapping the towel from her hair. He began to pat her hair dry, careful and methodical.

Elodie adored her hair. She pampered it obsessively, refusing to use a hairdryer because she believed it damaged the strands. Instead, she always took the time to carefully towel it off and let it air-dry, no matter how troublesome.

The memory of the old lady's gleeful face made Elodie smile to herself.

By now, she was used to Jarrod helping her dry her hair. Back when they'd first gotten married, he'd done it often-she hardly had to lift a finger.

So she let him continue, turning her attention to the assortment of creams and serums she was applying to her face.

"My vacation's only a few days," Jarrod said, voice gentle but steady. "The board's assigned me a project and I have to see it through, so in a few days I'll need to fly out again, tie up the loose ends. But this time, it'll be less than a month before I'm home."

That was what he said.

Still, Elodie glanced at the sleeping Nadia, her heart aching.

She hated the thought of leaving Nadia behind. But her work was her duty-and more than that, it mattered. She was building a vital bridge between two countries; she had to hold it steady.

Home would have to wait.

Jarrod understood the heavy weight of her responsibility.

He admired her passion for her career, and of course he supported her.

aside. The chair she was sitting in could spin, so he turned her to face him. Leaning down, hands braced on the armrests, he studied her up close. "You'll miss

was so close that Elodie had to tilt her head back to meet his

can't let personal feelings get in

tapped his fingers on the armrest,

"What?"

"Will you miss me?"

with a hint of mischief. Trying to stay

his chin. "You'll survive. I

gave her a look

"What? We're an old

teasing sparkle in her eyes. With a sly grin, he slipped his arm around the back of her neck and pulled her closer. "Ms. Thorne, you know I'll do anything you ask the moment you say something sweet. Why do you have to play

chest, feigning composure. “Mr. Silverstein, I think you need

nodded toward the sleeping Nadia on

away from her

"Yes?"

we book

shot him

Was he crazy?

that look only made Jarrod chuckle. He found her feistiness

her-once, then again, lingering a little

touch, but it

he wanted her-and overestimated his own

he moved in