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“I want to see her for a few minutes before we go.” Stephanie glanced back at the nurse, since the surgeon had disappeared. “Is that okay?”

“Sure. She’s a bit groggy yet, but you can see her. Mr. Simpson?”

Dad turned to the nurse. “Yes?”

“Why don’t you go get something to eat while your kids are with your wife, and then you’ll be all set for a few hours.”

“We’ll stay with Mom until you get back, Dad,” Stephanie urged him. “I’ll text Sage and let her know we’ll be about an hour before we pick up Jamie, if that’s okay with you?”

Every one of Dad’s fifty-five years showed on his face and in his posture. “I won’t be long.” He looked between Stephanie and Tate and seemed ready to say more, but he shook his head slightly and turned away.

Whatever that was about.

Stephanie leaned into Tate. His hand found the small of her back as they followed the nurse down a short corridor. “Thanks for being here,” she whispered.

“There’s no place I’d rather be.” His voice was low, gravelly.

Mom lay still on a gurney with numerous feeds attached to her body.

Stephanie leaned over her mother and squeezed her hand. “Hey, Mom, Tate and I are here with you for a few minutes. Dad’s gone to grab a coffee and a sandwich from the cafeteria, and he’ll be here shortly. You did great in surgery.”

Tate rubbed Stephanie’s shoulders as she kept a running monologue. What was she even saying? It was hard to think with her husband so near, touching her, lending her strength. The day had been utterly exhausting. The whole week had been since Tate had left for Chicago and she’d sat with her parents in the doctor’s office, but it had taken a distinct downward turn Wednesday with Sage’s phone call. And then today had driven stress to an all-new level.

“Here, have a seat.” Tate nudged a chair against the back of her legs.

She glanced up at him as she sat, still gripping Mom’s hand. “Thanks.”

“Whatever you need. I mean it, sweetheart. I’m here for you.”

Tears misted her eyes. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Shh, don’t say that. None of us deserves any good thing, but Jesus died for us, anyway. The way He loves is worth following.”

“Tate, that photo… it looked so bad. You know I’m terrible at trusting.”

He crouched in front of her chair and tucked a finger under her chin. “I’m not going to lie. It did look bad, but it’s all blown out of proportion. I promise you. There’s not a single thing about Dahlia that I like better than you. You have depths she’s never dreamed of. What’s more, you have Jesus.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “And you have me.”

A mumble from beside them pulled Stephanie’s attention back to the patient. “Mom?”

Her mother’s eyes focused on her then drifted to Tate before closing again, a faint smile crossing her face.

Stephanie focused on the monitors, but nothing on them changed. That meant Mom had only fallen back asleep, right?

“It takes a bit to wake up completely. She’s good, sweetheart.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“This is stressful.”

“Come here.” Tate lifted Mom’s limp hand from Stephanie’s and rested it on the bed before pulling Stephanie upright and gathering her close. “Lean on me, my love. I should have been here all week for you.”

“But your grandfather… how did the meetings go?”

“Successful. Sullivan now owns 51% of Cassel Hotels. There are a few t’s to cross and i’s to dot, but the essence has all been agreed upon and signed in principle. Dad will fly Justin and Aunt Bridget to the ranch to sign the final papers next week.”

“Bridget?”