Page 45 of Drop the Mitts

Grace’s breath left in a whoosh. It was bad, then. He couldn’t live on his own. Her heart panged at the thought of watching a family member—a sibling—suffer like that.

André shifted on the bench. “He’s happy as all get out. A little volatile at times. I just wish we could bring him closer.”

“You know Dad would never let that happen.”

“Oh.” Grace lit up. “Your parents are still there?”

André’s expression darkened. “Unfortunately.”

Elodie was about to say something when their server arrived carrying three plates. He passed out their food then left the table. Grace stared at her eggs. She didn’t have a clue what she was supposed to say.

“I’m so sorry,” was the best she could come up with.

Elodie gave a small smile. “I was going to say, André’s dead-set on supporting research.”

André lowered his voice. “Don’t say that like it’s a pipe dream.” Grace had the urge to reach out and hold his hand. She might’ve done it if he hadn’t reached for his fork.

Elodie shook her head. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. There’s a chance with some of these new innovations that his brain could heal. I attended a CE event last fall that reviewed promising stem cell research.”

André took a bite of his hash, chewed and swallowed. “My parents think we should accept that Luc’s not getting better.”

Elodie set her spoon down. “Well, after what happened?—”

“I know. I get it.” The furrow in André ’s brow deepened. “We tried Neurofeedback. It made his migraines so bad, he couldn’t function for months.”

Grace nodded. “When was this?”

“Two years ago.”

Ah. The pieces snapped into place. Two years since he and Elodie had spoken. Two years since the therapy went wrong.

“The whole family hated me.” André took another bite.

“Hey, that’s not fair, at least not where I’m concerned.” Elodie scooped up chia pudding and dropped a few berries on top. “I was never mad at you for pushing for Neurofeedback.”

“Then why were you mad?” André looked up from his plate.

“Is that a real question?” André waited for her response. Elodie tried to mask her surprise. “Ah, well, I was pissed that you wouldn’t get any help. You were drowning, and you treated all of my suggestions like I was hocking crystals and voodoo.”

“I mean?—”

“Don’t.” She held up a hand, and André ’s mouth quirked. “You carried everything and then acted surprised when it crushed you.”

André scooped more eggs onto his fork. “Or maybe I wanted it to.”

The table fell silent a moment, the only sound the scrape of their cutlery against ceramic. Finally, André cleared his throat. “Hey, El?” Elodie looked up. “I’m sorry. For snapping. For everything with Luc. I didn’t know how to handle it, and I definitely didn’t handle it well.”

Grace froze with her fork halfway to her mouth.

Elodie blinked, visibly surprised. Then she exhaled slowly and gave him a small, tight nod. “Thank you. And I’m sorry I tried to get you to howl at the moon.”

André almost spit out his food.

Grace tried not to stare. André had just offered a real apology. Calm. Sincere. No smirk. No dodge. This entire conversation was messing with her head more than she wanted to admit. It took her a moment to remember why she’d come to brunch in the first place because it was weirdly starting to feel like she was . . . on a date with André .

She set down her fork with a clatter and straightened. “Thank you for sharing all of that. I just noticed the time, and I only have a few minutes left before I need to run. So. I want to be honest about this whole petition thing. I know there are limitations. I respect the boundaries of your client relationship. I’m not asking for you to break confidentiality, but if there’s a way to request a release—a way to help Amey understand that you and I talking isn’t a plot to keep her from her daughter?”

Elodie blew out a slow breath. “I’ll talk with her. No promises. But I’ll ask.”

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