The head nurse wasn’t sure why Jamison was asking, but she still paused to think before answering carefully, “That day, when Mrs. Huntington came by, you weren’t here. Everyone who saw her from our department went over to say hello”
“Did anyone have private contact with her?”
“Private contact?” The head nurse thought for a moment, then her eyes lit up as she remembered. “Oh, yes! Dr. Quinn was on the morning shift that day. She handled all of Mrs. Huntington’s tests herself and personally delivered the results to the VIP suite.”
Jamison’s brow furrowed, his expression darkening.
So, it really was her.
“There were only the two of them in the room at the time?”
“Well… I’m not positive,” the head nurse admitted, “but Dr. Quinn and Mrs. Huntington seemed to be having a pleasant conversation.”
“All right, thank you.”
After hanging up, Jamison considered for a moment, then scrolled through his contacts until he found Celeste’s number. Without hesitation, he dialed.
The phone rang and rang, but no one answered.
He suddenly remembered Celeste was on the night shift today–she was probably swamped right now–so he let it go for the moment.
He knew exactly who had been spreading rumors behind his back. There was no rush; he could deal with her whenever he wanted.
He was nearly home when Boyd called.
“Uncle, you’re still not off work? Ivy’s been waiting for you to have dinner.” Boyd had arranged for dinner to be delivered, hoping he could leave once Jamison got back. But after waiting and waiting, there was still no sign of him, so he called to check.
“I stopped by the family house and got held up. I’m on my way back now,” Jamison replied.
“Oh, that explains it. I was wondering why it was taking you so long–the apartment’s just ten minutes away from the hospital.”
After hanging up, Boyd turned to Ivy with a warm smile. “Sis, why don’t you go
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ahead and eat? No need to wait for Uncle Jamison.”
Ivy hadn’t contacted Jamison, but she caught the subtlety in Boyd’s words and asked directly, “Did Jamison go back to the family house?”
Boyd looked surprised. “Did you talk to him?”
“No, just guessed.”
“…” Boyd was stunned for a second, then grinned. “Ivy, you’re scary smart. It’s like you can read minds.”
Ivy only smiled and nodded toward the table. “Why don’t you sit down and eat something too?”
“Nah, I’ve got plans tonight. I’ll head out in a bit.”
Hearing he had somewhere to be, Ivy immediately said, “Then you should go. No need to wait for Jamison.”
“That won’t work. Uncle told me I have to stay until he gets back—‘
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“Forget it. Don’t listen to him. I’m not going anywhere,” Ivy interrupted, cutting him off before he could finish. “If I really wanted to leave, you wouldn’t have seen me this afternoon.”
Boyd paused, considering. That was true.
With Ivy’s brains, if she wanted to disappear, there were a dozen ways she could manage it–and there was no way he could stop her.
So, Boyd headed out, and Ivy finally had the apartment to herself.
She couldn’t help but laugh at how overprotective Jamison was–acting as if she’d vanish the moment he looked away and even stationing someone to watch her. All this fuss over a marriage, and she didn’t even have her own freedom anymore.
Hunger gnawed at her, making her dizzy and short of breath–a classic sign of low blood sugar. She gave up waiting for Jamison and sat down to eat.
She had just finished her meal when she heard the front door open.
Her heart skipped a beat. For some reason, her first instinct was to hide.
She’d barely sprung up from her seat when the living room door swung open, and there was Jamison, catching her in the act.
Their eyes met across the room, an unspoken tension hanging in the air. Jamison’s brow creased as he asked, “What are you doing?”
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