Page 20 of Most Likely to Deny Love

I glanced up from my laptop, my eyes immediately drawn to Mia. She was hunched over a stack of printouts, her dark hair falling forward to partially obscure her face. Even so, I could see the pallor of her skin, the tight set of her mouth as she worked. The circles under her eyes had darkened since Monday, and her movements had grown slower, less precise.

“Are you okay?” I asked, keeping my voice casual.

She didn’t look up. “I’m fine.”

Her tone made it clear she wasn’t interested in elaborating. A small crease appeared between her brows as she continued highlighting sections of the report in front of her.

“You look tired.” The words slipped before I had the chance to consider them.

Mia’s head snapped up, gray eyes narrowing. “I said I’m fine.”

Tension crackled between us, and I mentally kicked myself. Four nights of working closely together had created a strange intimacy, but apparently not enough for her to welcome my concern. Not that I blamed her. I was her boss, not her friend, after all.

“We could finish this tomorrow,” I offered, even though my project timeline screamed otherwise.

“I can handle it.” Her voice had an edge that hadn’t been there earlier in the week. Something was definitely off.

Before I could press further, my phone lit up, vibrating against the table with an incoming call. My mother’s name flashed on the screen, and I felt my jaw tighten instinctively. I pressed the end call button without a second thought.

Barely five seconds passed before it rang again. Same caller.

Fuck. I huffed out a frustrated sigh, my patience already paper-thin. “I need to take this,” I said to Mia, who had raised an eyebrow at my obvious annoyance. “Won’t be long.”

Without waiting for her response, I stood and moved toward the door, answering as I stepped into the hallway.

“Mom.” I kept my voice low, glancing back through the glass to where Mia had returned to her paperwork, shoulders still rigid with whatever tension she was carrying tonight.

“Jack, darling.” The artificial brightness of her tone grated on my nerves. “How are you?”

“Fine.” I leaned against the wall, keeping my tone neutral. “What do you need?”

“A nicer greeting than that for your only mother, but I expect nothing less.”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I gritted my teeth, biting back the retort I knew would only cause more drama.

“Anyway, I just thought you should know that your grandmother had to go to the hospital today.”

My heart seized. “What? Is she okay? What happened?” The words tumbled out in a rush, my free hand clenching into a fist.

“Oh, calm down.” She tittered as if my concern was an overreaction. “She had some dizziness, that’s all, and nearly fainted. They’re keeping her overnight, for observation, but she’s fine.”

I exhaled slowly, my pulse gradually returning to normal. “You could have led with that.”

“Although,” my mother continued, her voice taking on that familiar judgmental edge, “she really should learn to slow down, at her age. She was at a bar, Jack. With a younger man.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache building. “Younger? As in, seventy?”

“This isn’t funny.” Her voice sharpened. “The woman is eighty-seven years old. She needs to act her age.”

“No, she needs to live her life,” I countered, straightening up. “If she wants to go out bar hopping, that’s her business.”

“Jack, really?—”

“I need to go, Mom. I’ll call her myself.”

I ended the call before she could respond, immediately scrolling to my grandmother’s contact.

“Jack!” Nan’s voice came through, strong and clear without a hint of frailty. “Well, well, well. I see it only takes a minor hospitalization to get my grandson to call.”

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