Unlocking my Boss’s Heart (Romance in Sweet Comedy #4)

18. Anton

Chapter eighteen

Anton

O nce again, I was hurrying through pale, white-washed hospital corridors, hoping I wouldn’t receive the worst news when I reached the waiting room. This time, at least, Celia was by my side, half running to keep up with my long strides. Her presence significantly improved my demeanor compared to a couple of weeks ago in a similar situation. I was still worried, but I didn’t feel quite so alone.

I found my mother outside the waiting room. When I reached her, she crumpled into my arms. Celia went inside to give us privacy.

“How is he? Do you know anything yet?” I asked.

Sobs wracked her body then, she clung to me. I wrapped my arms around her to console her. When calmed down, she said, “They won’t let me see him or tell me anything. I don’t know what’s going on.” Her voice broke at the end, and fresh sobs erupted.

My mother had always been a pillar of strength and seeing her in this state tore at my heart. I stroked her back until she calmed down enough to speak again.

“I asked several times if I could see him, but they won’t let me.”

“They can’t have you near if he’s still in the treatment room, Mother.”

“I know. I just want some information, something.”

I tightened my arms around her. “He’s going to be okay,” I soothed, even though I had no proof to back up my words other than the hope that he would pull through.

She finally calmed down and cleaned her face with her wet wipes.

“Come on, let’s sit.”

I guided her inside and sat between her and Celia. I placed my hand on my mother’s knee, continuing to comfort her. My father’s life was in jeopardy for the second time in a short while, and it was no surprise that my mother was struggling. No one deserved to go through something like this even once, let alone twice.

“Let me get you some water,” I offered.

She nodded almost imperceptibly, her gaze on the floor tiles. As I stood to get the water, a hand suddenly extended in front of me, offering a bottle.

Celia.

This was a moment I felt would be imprinted on my memory forever. Regardless of what unfolded between us, I would never forget her presence beside me now.

A wave of gratitude washed over me, so profound that my murmur of “thanks” seemed inadequate. Sitting back down, I took the bottle and passed it to my mother.

She drank.

As time ticked by, I noticed my mother’s eyelids beginning to droop. It would do her good to rest a bit, but I knew she wouldn’t bulge if I asked her to go home.

A loud breath escaped me, my way of releasing some of my tension. Then, I felt a light touch on my hand and looked down to see Celia’s fingers softly caressing mine. My chest tightened, not just with gratitude this time, but something deeper.

“Thanks for being here, Celia.”

She simply smiled and squeezed my hand.

Her gentle grip seemed to entwine around my heart.

“Don’t mention it.”

Her soft words offered reassurance, boosting my hope in my father’s recovery more than she could ever know. I found myself relying on the unwavering support she was giving me during this challenging moment. Her presence created a sanctuary amid this uncertainty, and her silent companionship spoke volumes. It soothed my fears and reinforced some of the cracks in our fragile bond.

It was strange thinking back on the last few days that had felt like a roller coaster. Only a few days ago, I’d helped Celia pack and return to Maddison’s safely. Maddison had looked like she wanted to carve my liver out with a spoon when I first arrived with Celia, but she’d quickly calmed down and seemed okay with me when I left.

Now, I sat in the hospital waiting room, my mother and Celia both dozing, the most important women in my life on each side of me. Though tired, sleep was far from my reach. I’d asked Celia to go home and rest, but she refused. Her kindness and commitment had my heart and mind in a jumble.

I lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. When she shifted and settled her head on my shoulder, it stirred in me not just physical attraction but that deeper feeling I’d felt earlier—a need to protect her, to be the only man in her life.

It reminded me very much of the emotions I’d experienced during the days she went missing. The intensity of my feelings at the motel had taken me by surprise. Did she even realize just how monumental that time had been? I could sense the walls I’d spent so much time building around my heart beginning to crumble.

That raised a question: Should I thank her? Or should I distance myself as I’d done countless times before?

Celia was effortlessly climbing over my defenses, and she didn’t even realize what she was doing. She was unlike any other woman I’d ever been with. My usual type had been models or more like my recent influencer ex. It made things easier, having relationships more about our shared physical attraction than engaging in intelligent discussion or truly opening up.

Celia was different. Very different. I opened up to her a little when bowling, it felt right to talk to her about my dad. But part of me worried that if I opened my heart too much, she would see the real me and run for the hills. I hated admitting that, but it was the truth. As a lawyer, I always fought for the truth. Funny how I’d run from it in my personal life for so long.

I let go of her hand and tucked her into my chest, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders. How Johan and Benjamin would laugh me out of the city when they heard that I, Anton Waltons, the stoic-faced lawyer, had been undone by a spunky Texan gal.

The funny thing was, it didn’t bother me that Celia was changing me. Looking at her now, I wondered if marriage really was all the misery and heartache I’d convinced myself it was.