Chapter 41 A mysterious cousin

Chapter 41 A mysterious cousin
Liana's POV

Liana moved with a restless energy, a hummingbird in a sterile environment. She was everywhere, her voice a calm but firm presence guiding new staff through their stations, her eyes sharp as she checked equipment. She didn't just work here; she lived here. I watched her, intrigued, as she ran through a checklist with a new nurse, her passion for this hospital evident in every gesture. She wanted it to be the best, and that striving, that fierce dedication, was something I deeply understood.

Hours blurred into an exhausting rhythm of preparations, and I finally had to intervene. "Liana," I said, catching her by the arm as she pivoted to check another room, "you need to sit. And eat."

She looked at me, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. "I'm fine, Adrian. There's just so much to do before opening day."

"I know," I replied, pulling a stool out from under a counter. "But you'll crash. And we don't need you crashing two days before the grand opening."

She finally relented, sinking onto the stool with a small sigh. "You sound like you care."

I chuckled, leaning against the counter. "I do care. You're putting too much stress on yourself."

"Stop pretending," she countered, her lips curving into a wry smile. "Last night, when I was 'sneaking' into the kitchen for a midnight snack, I saw your lights on. You were still working."

I feigned innocence. "Me? Working? Never."

"Oh, really?" She raised an eyebrow. "Then what was that spreadsheet about, Mr. 'Everything's fine, I'm just relaxing'?"

I shrugged, a smile playing on my lips. "A moment of inspiration. It passed."

"Right," she said, unconvinced. "Just like you, Adrian. You want this hospital to be the best, too. Don't deny it."

She wasn't wrong. I wanted this place to shine, to set a new standard. But for now, hunger gnawed. "There was a burger place across the street," I said, remembering it from our drive in. "Are you brave enough to venture out?"

Her eyes lit up. "Burgers? Now you're speaking my language."

We walked across the street, the crisp evening air a welcome change from the hospital’s climate control. The burger joint was bustling, the smell of grilled meat a delicious assault on the senses. Before she could even glance at the menu, I was already at the counter.

"Two cheeseburgers," I told the attendant. "Extra pickles on one, no onions on either. And two large fries."

Liana turned to me, her jaw slightly agape. "How did you...?"

I winked. "Just a lucky guess."

"A lucky guess?" she repeated, unconvinced. "You knew exactly what I wanted."

"Some things are just universal," I said, trying to sound nonchalant. But it wasn't a guess. The way she picked out the pickles from her plate at a team lunch months ago, the offhand comment about hating onions in a conversation about bad food experiences—every little detail about her, no matter how small, seemed to stick in my mind. It was like I had an invisible notebook I unconsciously filled, a meticulous record of Liana.

We found a booth by the window, the soft evening light filtering in. As we ate, a thought surfaced, one I’d been meaning to bring up. "I need your opinion on something," I said, wiping my mouth with a napkin.

She leaned forward, intrigued. "Oh? Lay it on me."

"My cousin," I began. "Her birthday is coming up. I need to get her a gift, but I'm absolutely clueless when it comes to... well, women's stuff."

Liana laughed, a rich, warm sound. "You, clueless? That's a first."

"Seriously," I insisted. "All my gifts end up being ridiculously practical or entirely inappropriate. I usually just give cash, but she's giving me grief this year."

"I can help with that," she offered immediately, her eyes sparkling. "I love picking out gifts. What kind of things does she like?"

"That's the problem," I admitted. "She’s kind of minimalist, but also enjoys a bit of sparkle. It's confusing."

"Minimalist sparkle," Liana mused, already plotting. "That narrows it down to... everything and nothing. Okay, here’s what we do. After work, we can swing by a cake store, maybe a jewelry store, and then whatever other shops you think might have something. We'll find her something perfect."

I felt a genuine rush of relief. "You'd really do that?"

"Of course," she said, taking another bite of her burger. "It sounds like fun. But," she added, her eyes twinkling mischievously, "are you sure you have a cousin? Or is this 'cousin' actually a crush?"

I chuckled, a genuine, easy laugh escaping me. "You never know."

Her smile widened, accepting the playful evasion. As we finished our meal and walked back across the street, the hospital building looked less like a construction site and more like a place ready to serve. We spent another hour putting the final touches on a few reports, checking some last-minute inventory. The hum of anticipation was palpable, a shared excitement for the momentous day ahead.

Finally, with the setting sun painting the sky in fiery hues, I locked my office door. Liana had done the same. "Ready for round two?" I asked.

She stretched, a slight yawn escaping her. "As I'll ever be. Lead the way, cousin-gift-shopper."

We descended the elevator, leaving the burgeoning hospital behind, ready to navigate a different kind of challenge – finding the perfect non-cash gift for a truly mysterious cousin.