Page 13 of Distant Shores (Stapled Magnolias #2)

IRELAND

“ W anna push the button?”

I stared up at the confusing man beside me as the elevator doors closed. “Am I a child?”

His dimple popped as he smiled, not seeming at all put off by my tone. “Definitely not.” He looked down at me and shrugged. “Just habit to ask, I guess. It’s floor three.”

I snorted and reached past him to push the “3” button.

“See?” he said as he leaned back against the rail. “Wasn’t that fun?”

“So fun,” I deadpanned.

The nervous man had all but disappeared between the conference room and here, but I saw a glimpse of him return when he clasped the back of his neck. My gaze was drawn to his bicep hidden beneath the fabric.

“Thank you, for… you know. The Band-Aids.”

He dropped his hand and gave me a smile, but it was small. It wasn’t the same one he wore after that insane lunge he pulled off to get to his knees.

My cheeks warmed at the memory, which was miraculous. Like Liem, I wasn’t someone who blushed .

But then I thought of that smile again. The one from before. The one that was so big that it exposed his extra-sharp canine on the left side, hidden behind pillowy lips.

Pillowy ?

Maybe it was just my subconscious yearning for a bed so badly that it was thinking of bed-related descriptors.

The extra-wide elevator jolted as it reached the third floor, and Adair gestured with his crutch as the doors opened. “After you, ma’am.”

“Ma’am? Really?” I asked, stepping out of the elevator.

There was a boom of laughter, and my gaze whipped to the only open door on the floor. That was Dad’s laugh. I hadn’t heard it in months. Not like that.

I followed the sound.

“Ma’am,” Adair repeated as he caught up with me and kept pace. “Unless you prefer Miss Sewell. I don’t actually know your name yet.”

I heard him but not really, too set on finding out what was happening.

“Dad?” I asked as I entered the apartment.

They—Mr. Smith and Dad—were laughing at something together, my dad’s sounding loud and unrestrained and Mr. Smith’s low and rumbling. I raised my eyebrows at Director Links and Nurse Emily, silently asking what I’d missed.

“Apparently,” Emily said, flicking her gaze from the men to me, “Mr. Sewell and Mr. Smith both like Mel Brooks.”

I watched in amazement as they continued debating the ranking of classic Mel Brooks comedies, Dad getting in roughly twenty words for every one from Mr. Smith, but it was like magic.

I loved when my anxiety was wrong .

Glancing up at Adair, I couldn’t help but smile. A full-blown, average-canines-on-display smile.

“This might work,” I said out loud, though it was really more for myself.

He nudged my foot with his crutch, and it was comforting. I suddenly felt like I’d gained two people on my team. On Dad’s team.

Adair and I shared a lingering look before Director Links joined us and wordlessly ushered us outside.

Her posture was proud—as it should be—as she took in the scene inside the apartment before regarding us. “I have a good feeling about this,” she said. “We love and embrace any win we can take.” She looked at me, and then at Adair. “Remember that on the bad days.”

The surge of thankfulness I felt for this woman was so powerful, it nearly took my breath away, and all I could do was nod.

“Now, Mr. Jacks,” she started. “I know you’re not technically Mr. Smith’s point of contact, but Jillie says you’re his second emergency contact. How do you feel about the match? Any concerns?”

I looked up at Adair again, full of even more questions about this guy.

He thought it over for a few moments. “Pops knows his mind. Or, umm….” He gripped the back of his neck but then dropped it back down to his side and straightened his posture.

“What I mean to say, ma’am, is that I respect his decisions.

If he thinks this is where he needs to be, I’ll stand by him. Always.”

Director Links seemed pleased with that answer, and based on the way my chest warmed at the earnest declaration, I was too. But my priority was Dad, and having as much information as possible was key. So, I squared my shoulders .

“I don’t know a graceful way to ask this, or if it’s even legal, but… Mr. Smith?” Adair’s hazel eyes met mine dead-on. “His diagnosis? Is he like Dad, just not as advanced?”

Director Links looked at Adair, too, silently communicating that the ball was in his court to answer or not.

She was good at that.

Adair looked down at me again, though it didn’t feel like that. Everything about him was open and warm.

Full of care.

“Pops is the strongest man I know,” he said finally. “And he’s a straight shooter. Whatever you want to ask him, he will tell you the truth. He doesn’t want to feel like he’s intruding on Jillie and her wife, especially now that they’re expecting.”

Pieces slowly clicked together, but they left me more than a little dumbfounded. “Jillie is your family? And she’s pregnant?”

“Jillie is Pops’s great niece,” Adair answered with a smile. “And yes, Rachel, her wife, is.”

I would need to take a good long look in the mirror later—with the lights on. I’d been a shit co-worker/friend/whatever to Jillie.

But that guilt was smothered by something else, something good , because Dad’s new roommate was related to Jillie, who I knew and respected. This really was the best-case scenario.

My gaze met Adair’s once more, but we were interrupted before either of us could speak again.

“Hey, I think Mr. Sewell is ready for his rest,” Nurse Emily said softly from the doorway.

I snapped my attention to her, and that guilt fled back into me. I’d not treated Emily fairly either. Her care for Dad had always been beyond reproach .

She smiled at Adair, who only vaguely smiled back, close-lipped, and I had to force back my own smile.

Emily was lovely. I just hadn’t loved where her eyes had wandered today. Or her sticky hands.

I thanked her as I walked back into the apartment. Sure enough, Dad was sitting on the couch—all apartments here were already furnished—and was suspiciously quiet.

Guilt kicked me in the shins again, determined to never stray too far. I should’ve realized there was a crash coming after all the newness this morning. And I hadn’t even checked out this new apartment yet or talked to his new roommate.

“It was nice to meet you, Mr. Smith,” I said to the older man as I joined him at the window. There was no need, or time, to beat around the bush, and Adair’s assurances gave me the courage to ask, “Do you think this will be a good fit for you? Rooming with my dad?”

Mr. Smith kept his gaze fixed on the beautiful view—the rain had left as quickly as it’d come, clearing the vista of open sky and the Gulf in the distance—for several breaths before he finally spoke.

“I lost my mother to Alzheimer’s,” he said matter-of-factly.

“And my wife, God rest her soul, to cancer.” He finally turned from the view and met my gaze directly, his light blue eyes a similar shade to Gil’s, which instantly warmed me to him.

“I know what it is to lose your people even when they’re right in front of you.

And after my Parkinson’s diagnosis, I think I’ve been guided to exactly where I’m meant to be. ”

Parkinson’s.

“Oh, don’t be sad on my account,” he said gruffly. “I plan on sticking around for a long time yet. My wife loved the beach, and I’m gonna live out this dream for her. ”

Just like living in Ireland had been Dad’s before I came along.

I pressed my hand hard against the ache in my chest. Was this what honest-to-God hope felt like? I’d felt small rays of it since we’d gotten into Live Oak, like sunlight escaping through clouds. But it’d never been like this.

“Call me Ireland, please,” I said quietly.

“Ireland,” he agreed. “I like that.”

My lips tilted up briefly. “You’ll speak up if it becomes too much? If my dad does?”

He smiled at me, and the expression was just as warm as Adair’s. They didn’t have much in common physically, but there was that.

“Yes, darlin’. I promise.”

And it might have made me a fool, but I believed him.

He went back to looking out the window, the ease of our conversation acting as a balm as I approached Dad.

“Hey. You ready to go lie down for a bit?”

Dad nodded and let me help him up from the couch.

“Would you like me to take Mr. Sewell back?” Nurse Emily asked. “I think Director Links would like to speak with you one more time.”

I glanced around the suddenly full apartment, surprised they’d entered without me realizing. “Dad, are you okay with going back to the apartment with Emily?”

He grumbled his agreement and took the arm Emily offered, and they made their way out of the apartment together.

Adair came up to Mr. Smith’s side by the window, and they started talking quietly. Director Links ushered me out of the apartment and into the smaller conference room down the hall. All floors of the Zinnia House had them, as there were a lot of meetings here.

Our conversation was brief .

Yes, I was ready to move forward.

Yes, Dad seemed ready too.

Yes, I would go downstairs and meet with the financial department after this.

Yes, if Mr. Smith was also agreeable, as I knew he would be, we could start moving Dad’s stuff up to the new apartment later today.

No, I didn’t have somewhere else to live yet.

Yes, I would be thinking about the guy with green eyes, gentle hands, baggy clothes, and kind smile for the rest of the day.

I kept the last two to myself.