Chapter 115: Eastgate Medical Center
Just before getting in, she paused.
She turned back to look at him one more time in the bright morning sunlight.
Her fingers gently touched the necklace resting against her collarbone.
"Sean..." Olivia said softly.
"Yeah?" Sean replied.
She smiled.
"I don’t think I’m going to take this off anytime soon."
Sean glanced at the pendant before looking back at her.
"I noticed."
She let out a quiet laugh.
"...Thank you."
"For everything."
"The necklace."
"Dinner."
"Last night."
She shook her head with another smile.
"It was perfect."
Sean smiled warmly.
"I’m glad you liked it."
"I loved it," Olivia corrected.
She leaned forward and gave him one quick kiss before slipping into the back seat.
Sean followed her inside.
James closed the door behind them before taking his seat in the driver’s seat.
Sean looked up toward the rearview mirror.
"James."
"Yes, sir?"
"Drop Olivia at the agency first."
"Then take me to Eastgate Medical Center."
"Of course, sir."
The Rolls-Royce pulled smoothly away from the curb, carrying them back toward reality after a night neither of them would ever forget.
"Of course, sir," said James.
Sean settled in beside Olivia, and she took his hand without making anything of it,their fingers intertwined naturally and the car pulled into the morning traffic, and they sat together for the drive in the particular quiet of two people who had said everything they needed to and were comfortable with what came after.
When the car stopped outside the agency building, she squeezed his hand before letting go.
She turned toward him with a smile.
"Tell Max I said good luck," said Olivia. "Even though he doesn’t know me."
Sean smiled.
"He actually does."
Olivia blinked.
"...He does?"
"I’ve mentioned you," said Sean.
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"And what exactly have you been saying about me?"
Sean pretended to think.
"That you have very reasonable ground rules."
Olivia folded her arms.
"Go on."
"And that you have surprisingly good observation skills."
She pointed a finger at him.
"We’re definitely having a conversation about everything you’ve told him."
Sean chuckled.
"Thursday."
Olivia smiled.
"Thursday."
She leaned over and kissed him softly.
"I’ll see you then."
"I’ll be looking forward to it," said Sean.
With one last smile, she stepped out of the car.
Sean watched her walk toward the agency entrance.
Just before she disappeared inside, she turned around.
Their eyes met across the distance.
She gave him a small wave.
Sean returned it.
Then she disappeared through the glass doors.
Only then did James pull away from the curb.
James drove him to Eastgate Medical Center.
Sean sat in the back and looked out the window and thought about Max in the waiting room, about Amara in surgery, about everything the morning had held alongside the champagne and the bubbles and the breakfast by the window.
Some days held more than their calendar space warranted.
This was one of them.
—------
Sean arrived at Eastgate Medical Center at eleven forty.
He found the surgical waiting area on the third floor without asking anyone for directions, having memorized the layout from the day he’d arranged Amara’s payment authorization weeks ago.
The third floor waiting area was a medium-sized room with plastic chairs arranged in clusters, a television mounted in the corner showing a morning news program nobody was watching, and the specific quality of light that waiting rooms always had regardless of the time of day, flat and institutional and designed to make time feel like it was happening somewhere else.
Max wasn’t there yet.
Sean found a corner seat, sat down, and put his bag on the chair beside him.
He checked his phone. A text from Olivia, sent from the agency building.
Made it. Kwon is already in full mode. How is he?
Not here yet, Sean typed back. Surgery’s already started.
Tell him I’m wishing his sister a successful surgery and quick recovery , she wrote. Both of them.
Sean put his phone away and looked at the door.
Max arrived fourteen minutes later.
He came through the waiting room door moving fast, the way people moved when they’d been moving fast for a while and hadn’t decided to stop yet, his bag over one shoulder, his phone in his hand, already scanning the room before he’d fully stepped through the entrance, looking for the admissions desk or the nurse station or whatever came next in the sequence of things he’d been running through his head on the way here.
Then he saw Sean.
He stopped.
Completely. The forward momentum just cut off, mid-step, the way someone stopped when they saw something they’d been told to expect but hadn’t actually believed would be there.
He looked at Sean sitting in the corner chair with his bag beside him like he’d been there a while.
Sean looked back.
Neither of them said anything for a moment.
Then Max crossed the room slowly, the fast energy gone, and stood in front of him.
"You actually came," said Max.
"I said I would," said Sean.
"I know," said Max. "I just—" He stopped. Started again. "You had a whole evening. You were on a date. I called you at the hotel and you said you’d be here and I thought—" He paused. "I thought you’d probably text me from somewhere else and say something came up."
"Nothing came up," said Sean.
Max looked at him for another moment, and something in his expression did something complicated, the specific thing that happened to people’s faces when they’d been operating on lowered expectations for long enough that being met properly felt unfamiliar.
He sat down in the chair Sean had put his bag on, which Sean moved without making anything of it.
For a moment Max just sat there with his own bag in his lap and his phone in his hand and didn’t speak.
"How long have you been here," said Max finally.
"Fifteen minutes," said Sean.
Max nodded slowly. Then he looked at the closed door that led to the surgical suite. "She went in at nine."