Page 133 of Hate Me Like You Mean It

“What?” I asked breathlessly, running ahead to slam the elevator button. “What happened? Did she wander off the property? Fall?”

Alice shook her head, her glassy green eyes filled with anxious terror. “No, she’s fine.”

“Then what?”

Her mouth opened. Shut.

“Alice, what is it?”

“Gampy had a heart attack.”

41

Alice

I was too young to remember the day Gammy Lucy passed away, but I’d heard the stories.

There’d been laughter, Mom always said. She’d been sick for a while, so they knew it was coming, and she’d insisted she didn’t want her last few hours to be depressing or grim. So the whole family had gathered around her bed, told stories, recounted happy memories, and laughed. There were tears, too, but they’d made the most of what little time they still had together.

Then she’d closed her eyes.

Adrien once said that it felt like a light went out. The world became slightly dimmer when she left it, and he had this deep, innate feeling that it would never fully recover.

In private, he’d added that it was the first time he’d seen Gampy cry. That he’d never forget those last few minutes when our grandfather had finally broken, clinging onto her hand as though letting go would mark the end of his world.

She’d promised to wait for him on the other side. And that one day, whether he wanted it or not, the two of them would be together again.

Today was, evidently, not that day.

“I’m sorry… it’s what?”

Ria was the one to break the silence. The rest of us—me, Mom, Dad, and Adrien—were slightly too stunned to speak.

“Gastroesophageal reflux,” Dr. Hart repeated with a small, friendly smile. “Very common. Has an aggravating habit of imitating a few of the more concerning signs of a heart attack.”

Adrien stepped forward, hands resting loosely on his hips as the perfect V in the middle of his eyebrows etched deeper. “I’m sorry, I still don’t think I’m fully understanding. You’re saying he hasheartburn?”

“That’s correct.”

“Oh, thank god.” Mom’s purse hit the floor as the room breathed another sigh of relief.

She’d arrived not ten minutes ago with my dad in tow. They’d hopped on a family friend’s jet as soon as they’d been contacted by the hospital since ours had been here, waiting to take Gampy back home.

“I’m sorry it took us so long to confirm. We needed to run extra tests to rule out a handful of other, potentially more serious conditions given Robert’s age and family history.”

“So he’s fine,” Adrien reiterated.

Dr. Hart flipped through her clipboard. “More than fine, if you ask me. His cholesterol is a touch higher than I’d like to see, and he’ll need to make some dietary changes—steer clear of anything spicy, acidic, fried, et cetera… You’ll receive a full list shortly. But other than that, he’s in great shape. I’m just waiting for one last result to come through, then I’ll clear him for immediate discharge. The only thing I ask is that you make a follow-up appointment with your family physician within thenext few weeks. Especially if his symptoms get worse. Any questions?”

There were none, though Mom did insist on giving her a drawn-out, too-tight hug before allowing her to leave. At one point, I could have sworn I caught her trying to check her watch.

“What the hell did you eat?” Adrien demanded once Dr. Hart had finally been released from the suffocating vise of our mother’s gratitude.

Gampy waved a hand. “Doesn’t matter now. All this talk about food is making me hungry. See if you can get us into Torrent tonight, would you? We’re overdue for a family dinner.”

Mom slung her purse over her shoulder. “You’re not having steak tonight, Dad.”

Gampy rolled his eyes so hard his head lolled with it. “I’m sure their kitchen is well supplied to boil a chicken breast and slap it on some plain rice,Julie.”