talking about me, but the moment was squashed by our earlier argument. The one that I’d caused.
“Hi,” I greeted, extending for a handshake. “Alexandra Miller.”
She bypassed my hand and pulled me in for a hug. Her embrace reminded me of eating warm chocolate chip cookies underneath a fleece blanket.
“So good to finally meet you,” she said. “Even though he tries not to, you should hear Ethan go on and on about you. You put light into those misty grey eyes of his. We were wondering when he would finally bring you by. For as long as I’ve known Ethan, he’s never introduced a woman to his grandfather—”
“Who we’d be glad to see right now,” Ethan jumped in. “At least, now that you’ve thoroughly embarrassed me.”
Maureen swatted at him and walked from behind the desk. “Nonsense. Women love to hear that the men in their lives have been talking about them to others. It means that even when you’re not together, he still has you on the brain.”
We followed her out double glass doors and through a courtyard before we entered what I presumed to be the living quarters. The front entrance reminded me of a chic hotel lobby with its recessed lighting, decorative plants, and lounge area. There was even a very large, completely filled bookcase along one wall. A man in a wheelchair sat reading in the lounge with a checkered blanket strewn over his legs.
“He’s been reading all morning,” Maureen said, gesturing to the man.
“So, today is a good day then?” Ethan asked.
“It has been so far.”
He thanked her and, for the first time that day, took my hand as we walked over to where the elderly man sat. The man was reading Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The House of the Seven Gables, and the corners and cover were tattered and worn as though he’d read it several times over the years.
“Pick up your feet son,” a voice rumbled. Although now feeble, it had a resonance that suggested that it could once carry across long distances. “You can start fires with the way you drag your shoes across carpet.”
Ethan laughed and reached in for a long hug while I stood off to the side to watch the moment unfold. I also wasn’t sure what would be the appropriate way to greet the man. Technically, I was meeting the family. With an unknown father and incarcerated mother, this was it for Ethan.
“I don’t drag my feet,” Ethan protested.
“I should’ve nicknamed you matchbook.” The man glanced up at me, his eyes like two robin’s eggs. “And who might you be, gorgeous?”
“Hold your horses, old man,” Ethan warned. “She’s mine.”
A flurry was set off in my stomach, traveling outward and down the lengths of my limbs. Possessiveness was usually a turn-off for me as it had been used to control my life from my father, who’d sure-handedly extended the baton over to Roderick. Yet, the way that Ethan had automatically asserted his claim over me in an “I’ll do anything to keep her in my life” way rather than an “I own her” way, left me in a temporary state of paralysis.
“Joseph Stewart, Alexandra Miller.”
The old man’s eyes rounded and he waved me over for a gentle hug. When I leaned back, there were tears in his eyes.
“Is everything okay, Mr. Stewart?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yes. Everything is okay. I am losing more and more of my days as time goes by, so I was afraid that when the day came for me to meet the woman that will make it easier for me to leave my Ethan alone in this world, I would already be a complete vegetable.”
I noticed that one side of his face drooped slightly when he spoke and recalled Ethan mentioning that he’d suffered a stroke at some point and time in his life.
“You will never be a complete vegetable,” Ethan reassured, sitting next to him.
“This will only get worse, Ethan,” he replied. “You are a doctor, so you already know that. One day, I won’t remember who you are, ever again.”
Ethan’s expression hardened and fell. I made small circles on his shoulder in an effort to comfort him. Although my mother’s father had developed Alzheimer’s, Gia and I were never really made aware of the severity of his condition. The worse he got, the more we were told to stay away from him. Therefore, we would simply watch him sitting on the porch staring out onto the front lawn. At times he would mumble to himself, laughing out