Love In Slow Motion (Love Beyond Measure #2) - E.M. Lindsey Page 0,22

osteoarthritis in his spine, and Ilan could probably diagnose him with four other things wrong, but he was trying to distance himself from being Dr. Nadav for a bit. He’d have to get back to his life eventually, but he needed to blueprint what he wanted that to look like before he set foot in an office again.

He wanted something with substance, something with meaning.

Stretching his back, he fumbled for his keys, then walked in and hated how it didn’t smell like home there. It was artificial, oils in a little plastic plug-in that made his eyes sting and nose itch. And it might have been tolerable if the furniture was comfortable or the blankets were heavy and warm.

He might have spent the next few days burrowed under a comforter with a Netflix binge and Greek food on constant delivery if he thought it might take the edge off the chaos that was raging inside of him. But he knew better. Ilan had a good life, and he’d worked his ass off for it, but none of it had come by luck. And he didn’t expect that to change now, simply because he wanted it more.

He was completely naked, half-drunk, and spread-eagle on his bed when Jack called to let him know the offer was accepted and that they could get the papers signed in a few days. He let out a sigh of relief and told Jack he’d make sure to send the funds, then promptly drank himself into oblivion.

It had been years since Ilan had indulged like that. His work schedule was always too busy, and his on-call shifts took up any free time he could hope to have. So, when he woke up with a hangover that made him feel like he had knives stabbing through his temples, he regretted every decision he’d ever made leading to the moment he bought the bottle of whiskey.

It took him nearly half an hour to find the courage to swing his legs over the bed, and then his head spun so violently, he barely made it through the bathroom door before he heaved whatever was left in his stomach. He didn’t feel much better after that, but the room wasn’t moving anymore, so he managed a shower and then found his shades before he stumbled into the kitchen for coffee. The smell was enough to get his appetite going, though his muscles ached in ways he hadn’t expected, and he knew he was getting far too old to be wrecking his body like that.

Dry toast went down easy, and the bitter coffee allowed him to wake up enough to check his phone, finding a couple of missed calls from Julian. With a frown, he tried to calculate the hour it would be in Paris, but eventually gave up trying to make numbers make sense, and he dialed anyway.

“Sleeping in?” Julian asked when he answered, and Ilan felt something soften in his chest at the sound of his best friend’s voice.

“Hungover. I bought a house yesterday and decided to celebrate.”

Julian laughed quietly. “With a guest?”

“On my own,” Ilan admitted. He picked up his mug, then slipped out the back door and leaned against the railing. It wasn’t the best view—the forest behind the rental was lush and green, but the small lap pool was uncovered, and he could see a few unfortunate lizards lying at the bottom. “It was a stupid, stupid idea.”

“I bet,” Julian said, keeping his voice soft. “Get it all out of your system?”

Ilan groaned, then sipped a little more of his coffee. “Most of it. Did you really call me four times to talk about my morning vomit?”

“You are disgusting,” Julian groaned, and then Ilan heard him grunt softly like he’d flopped down. “And no. I was calling to see if you’ve heard from my dad?”

Ilan straightened up a little. “Is Papa in trouble?”

“Will you please stop calling him that,” Julian said, but his usual irritation was absent from his voice, replaced with a heavy worry. “And I don’t know, to be honest. Corinne saw him briefly after he moved into his new place, but he dropped off the map, and he hasn’t called me back…” Julian trailed off. “I’m not used to being so far away from him.”

Ilan closed his eyes and tried to stave off a small surge of panic at the thought of Fredric out there on his own. Which was ridiculous, of course. Fredric was the last person in the world who wouldn’t