sure anymore.
* * *
IN THE END, Aidan stayed with Gram in her spare bedroom. He’d gone back to his condo, but the doorman had handed him a stack of messages.
One from a reporter. Another from the hospital, his former employer. Yet another from Fleur’s father, Albert, writing this time instead of calling “just in case your phone isn’t working here yet.”
His head pounding, Aidan had left it all and walked out to the street, where he’d hailed a random taxi and directed it to Beacon Hill.
His grandmother opened the door in person. She knew enough to hand him a cup of tea and just let him go to sleep.
The next morning, he was still feeling jet-lagged when his grandmother’s housemaid opened the bedroom curtains and brought in a tray of watery coffee and toast.
And then he was stepping into his grandmother’s town car again, being driven by Rocco toward the Back Bay and St. Bartholomew’s School.
He’d discovered that he was curious to see what his grandmother was going to do next. He had a sinking feeling that it might not be in Ashley’s best interests. Or in his.
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