When Her Death Couldn't Break Him (Cecilia and Nathaniel) novel Chapter 2090

The manager blinked, surprised, then nodded as comprehension set in.

“Of course. With everyone else heading home, we'll be grateful for the help, and you'll pocket the overtime,” he said.

Magnus inclined his head. “Thanks.”

On his way back to the floor, Magnus mapped out a strategy. If he worked nights, he could ride back with Denise during the day, visit her parents, and still chip away at his debts.

With more money, he could also prepare more gifts for Denise's parents.

Subsequently, he worked harder than ever.

That evening, the supervisor released the pair ahead of schedule.

Denise and Magnus caught a rickety city bus bound for the hospital, the sunset glinting off its dusty windows.

Magnus balanced bulging bags of fruit and tonics on his knees, palms slick with nervous sweat.

“Really, you didn't have to buy so much,” Denise said with a small laugh. “My parents aren't well. Some of that fruit is off-limits for them.”

“I'm playing the part of your boyfriend, remember? Proper etiquette matters. If I'm going to lie, I might as well lie convincingly so your parents can rest easy,” Magnus answered.

“All right,” she sighed. “How much did all this set you back? I'll pay you.”

Magnus waved the concern away. “Forget it. We're friends. Don't make this transactional. Think of them as my first gifts to Mr. and Mrs. Laney.”

Hearing that, Denise let the matter drop, warmth blooming in her chest.

Moments later, the bus hissed to a stop outside the hospital's main entrance, its neon sign flickering against the early evening gloom.

The moment Denise stepped out of the car, a blade of winter air slashed across her cheeks. It was the kind of cold that stung like pins pressed straight into the skin, forcing her eyes to narrow against the gust.

Magnus hurried after her, shoulders hunched inside his coat. His teeth knocked together as he managed a shaky laugh. “It's freezing. Let's get inside before I turn into a statue.”

The tremor in his voice was real, but the chill in his bones owed less to the weather than to the storm of nerves he carried.

“Is it really that cold?” Denise asked, turning just enough for the street lamp to catch the teasing gleam in her eyes.

She noticed he was wrapped in layers—wool scarf, quilted jacket, gloves—yet still shivering like a leaf.

Magnus nodded hard. “Yeah. Absolutely Arctic.”

All the way to the ward, he kept rewriting his opening line. Should I call them Mr. and Mrs. Laney? Offer to shake hands first? Compliment their health?

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