The Atwoods stayed for close to an hour, until they regretfully had to get back to the office. Ian assured them he’d call as soon as there was any change in Tessa’s condition and thanked them again for everything they had already done.
The day dragged on with no real change in Tessa’s condition. The infection continued to rage through her body but thankfully didn’t appear to be spreading further. Still, it was taking a definite toll on her and Ian was grateful she remained largely out of it. Once in a while her eyelids would flutter open, but he was never really certain if her feverish brain actually recognized him or knew where she was.
He tried to get some work done, desperate for any sort of distraction to ease his worry over Tessa. He took phone calls from his parents, his brother Hugh, from Matthew Bennett, all of whom had heard the news about Tessa from Andrew, and all expressing their concern. Simon stopped by midday, bringing along lunch for the two of them, but Ian barely touched his.
As Simon stood up to leave, there was an unmistakable sheen of tears in his eyes as he squeezed Tessa’s limp hand. “She’ll pull through this, Mr. Gregson, I just know she will. Such a sweet, kind girl – she certainly doesn’t deserve this after everything else she’s been through.”
Ian had to fight back his own tears. “I know, mate. Keep her in your prayers, will you?”
“Constantly, sir. Please call me if I can do anything else. Anything.”
It was early evening, and Ian was half-dozing in the bedside chair when Andrew and his girlfriend Isobel poked their heads inside the room.
“We brought dinner,” announced Andrew, holding up a large paper takeout bag. “Bento boxes, I hope that’s all right.”
Ian grimaced. “Why is everyone who stops by today trying to feed me?”
But he managed to eat almost half of the salmon teriyaki, rice, and miso soup before pushing the takeout container away. Isobel got a phone call that she excitedly exclaimed was from a gallery owner, and dashed out into the hall to answer it.
Ian raised a weary brow to Andrew. “Pleasant enough girl but frankly doesn’t seem your type.”
Andrew returned his gaze steadily. “Are you referring to the tattoos, the piercings, the purple hair or the funky clothes?”
Ian smiled. “Ah, I suppose all of those. You’re much more conservative than she is.”
“You think so?” inquired Andrew. “Guess you’ve never noticed these, hmm?”
He pointed to the holes in his right earlobe and above his left eyebrow where some sort of hoop or stud would normally be inserted.
“Obviously I don’t wear any jewelry to the office. And there’s one more piercing in – um, let’s call it a more private spot.”
Ian couldn’t suppress the shudder that went through him at the thought of a piercing – there. “Any tattoos?”
“Six of them at last count,” confirmed Andrew. “All of them well hidden under my suits at the office. No purple hair, but during college I did have a ponytail. Down to here.” He pointed to the middle of his back. “And the funky clothes come out on the weekends, though it’s mostly just jeans and T-shirts, nothing too out of the ordinary.”
Ian’s grin grew a bit wider with each revelation. “Will wonders never cease. I do believe you’ve bested me at my own game, Andrew. I would never in a million years have guessed at any of these hidden secrets of yours. So your image as a stick in the mud was all just one big hoax, hmm?”
Andrew dared to glare at him. “With all due respect, sir, it’s vital to the continued operation of the office that this stays strictly between us. If anyone else knew, I’d lose all respect and then it would be complete and total anarchy in that place.”
Ian laughed, the first time in over twenty four hours he’d come close to doing so. “I agree. So for the sake of maintaining control over the troops, your secrets are safe with me.”
Isobel returned then, beaming with the news that a local gallery owner was very interested in displaying some of her sculptures. She seemed anxious to get back to her latest project, so Ian shook both their hands and thanked them for dinner.
“My treat next time,” he surprised himself by saying. “When Tessa’s fully recovered, we’ll make it a double date – you two pick the place.”
Andrew glanced uncertainly at Isobel. “Sir, I’m not really certain that’s a good idea. We probably shouldn’t be socializing outside of the office.”
“Oh, quit being such a stuffed shirt, Andrew,” scolded Ian. “You’re getting to be ten times worse than I ever was. Besides, I’m a little curious to see some of these tattoos of yours. But not,” he added hastily, “the other piercing you mentioned.”