Chapter 1

Nathan did not return to the hospital until the next morning.

"Nathan, what did you promise me before you left?"

He took off his coat, exhaustion in his voice.

"Your mom was stabilized. The doctor said she's out of immediate danger. Do we really have to fight about this right now?"

"What did you promise me?"

He finally looked at me.

"To stay overnight and keep an eye on her oxygen monitor."

"Then why was nobody there to acknowledge the alarm?"

He went quiet for two seconds and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Camille had an interview this morning. She couldn't do it without her glasses. I dropped them off and planned to come straight back. Traffic was worse than I expected."

My mother, Helen, had suffered a sudden drop in oxygen saturation during the night.

She fell out of bed and split her forehead badly enough to need four stitches.

By the time a nurse found her, she was barely conscious.

In Nathan's version of events, all of that mattered less than Camille Sterling needing her glasses for an interview.

The bed rustled.

Mom opened her eyes.

Her first words were still an attempt to protect him.

"Don't blame Nathan. I should've been more careful. I'm getting older. I'm not as steady as I used to be."

Nathan walked over and adjusted her pillows.

"Mom, don't get up by yourself. Call the nurse if you need anything."

His voice was gentle.

His hands were careful.

If the unacknowledged monitor alarm hadn't still been beside the bed, I might have convinced myself I had imagined the whole night.

Mom kept nodding.

"If you've got things to do, go ahead. I'm in a hospital. The doctors are here."

"He's not busy."

I looked at Nathan.

"He just thinks someone else is more important."

His hand stopped on the pillow.

"Elise, she just woke up. Do you really have to start this in front of her?"

"Those glasses came from Camille's father. They meant something to her. Once I found them, I thought I should return them right away."

"A pair of glasses won't disappear if they go back a day late.

"My mother can die if she goes a few minutes without oxygen."

The room fell silent.

Nathan's jaw tightened.

"She's fine now. Why do you have to say it like that?"

Something inside me went cold.

So as long as she hadn't died, his broken promise could be erased.

Someone knocked.

Camille walked in carrying a fruit basket, her eyes already red.

"Mrs. Fairchild, I'm so sorry. I didn't know last night was that serious."

She set the basket down and turned to me.

"Elise, if you need someone to blame, blame me. I mentioned the glasses in passing. I never thought Nathan would drive them over in the middle of the night.

"If I'd known your mom needed him there, I never would have let him leave."

Nathan frowned.

"This isn't your fault. I promised I'd return them."

Camille's eyes filled quickly.

"But she got hurt because of it. I feel terrible.

"I won't bother you again."

Nathan's tone softened.

"You didn't do anything wrong."

Only then did he seem to remember I was standing there.

"I'll hire a private caregiver for your mom. What happened last night is over."

I stopped arguing.

Mom slipped her hand into mine under the blanket. Her palm was cold and damp.

I tucked the blanket around her and spoke calmly.

"Nathan, how much of Camille's stuff is still in our house?"

"I don't know."

"Make a list when you get home."

He gave me a tired look.

"It's a few old things. What are you trying to start now?"

I glanced at Camille.

"You're always so particular about returning things to their owner.

"This time, I'll help you return all of it at once."

Camille's expression shifted.

Before she could answer, Nathan's phone rang.

He stepped toward the window.

"Mr. Caldwell, the old piano you asked us to locate has been released from storage. It needs about a week of conditioning before transport. Should we still send it to the original address?"

Nathan looked at Camille.

Her lips pressed together.

"My new condo is still being renovated. I can't put it there yet."

Nathan did not hesitate.

"Send it to my house."

I looked at him.

"Who agreed to that?"

He ended the call as if the answer were obvious.

"It's temporary."

Then he texted our address to the moving company.

He never asked me once.