How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 779

Elodie finally understood what he was getting at.

She knew he was playing the sympathy card, but she also realized he was only doing it for her sake.

“You know,” Jarrod drawled, “my lungs still ache, my ribs can’t take any strain, I can’t even shower by myself.”

Standing behind the wheelchair, Andrea shot Jarrod a strange look. He’d never seen Mr. Silverstein like this before.

There was simply no way for Elodie to argue with Jarrod’s words.

“So, you want me to stay at Moonlight Garden?”

“No, I want you to come home.”

Jarrod didn’t wait for her to agree or refuse; he took her hand. “Just humor me, will you?”

Elodie could only stare at him, speechless.

Sometimes, she truly thought Jarrod was a master at both pride and humility—whatever suited him best. Most days, he was cool and distant, but when he wanted to be difficult, he had plenty of tricks up his sleeve.

Finally, she turned to Andrea. “Help him to the car. We’ll stop by Moonlight Garden first.”

Andrea nodded. “Of course.”

Clearly, Mr. Silverstein’s act was a resounding success. Andrea had to admit, he was almost impressed.

Once Elodie got in the car, she texted Rosemary and Emile to let them know she’d be going to Jarrod’s place first. As she put her phone away and turned, she saw that the smile hadn’t left Jarrod’s lips.

Catching her glance, he said, “Being in a good mood probably helps with recovery, don’t you think?”

“…Then go ahead and keep smiling.”

Elodie knew perfectly well Jarrod was using his injury as leverage, but she never intended to ignore what he’d done for her. He’d saved her life and was seriously hurt because of it—she couldn’t, and wouldn’t, just leave him to fend for himself.

They arrived at the townhouse.

Elodie was still recovering from her own illness, not fully back to normal, and tired easily.

Cara was out for the day.

Andrea helped them inside, brought in their things, and, with a knowing look, left them alone.

Elodie could tell Jarrod wasn’t feeling great. She nodded toward the stairs. “Go lie down for a bit.”

“Will you stay with me?” he asked, glancing back at her as he walked.

She ignored that. “I’ll take care of you as much as I can. I’m fine now, really, and I’m not going to go back on my word.”

“What do you need to take care of? I can eat on my own, get to the bathroom by myself… If you want to help me undress in the shower, I wouldn’t complain,” he teased, making it clear he didn’t really expect her to play nurse—he just wanted her company.

Everything was just as she’d left it—the tiny clothes and baby things neatly arranged. She could almost picture Jarrod picking them out, his face full of a hope he rarely showed.

He had been looking forward to this, too.

She picked up a little butter-yellow dress, running her fingers over the soft fabric. Her eyes stung, turning red at the corners.

“I picked that one out. Do you like it?”

Jarrod’s voice came from the doorway, catching her off guard.

She turned to face him. He was leaning against the doorframe, and she had no idea how long he’d been watching her.

Elodie put the dress back. “Does it even matter? Who would wear it?”

He looked at her, a mixture of resignation and sorrow in his eyes. Finally, he let out a quiet sigh, stepped forward, and crouched to meet her gaze. “Elodie, look at me.”

She lifted her eyes.

Jarrod exhaled slowly, holding her gaze, and said, enunciating each word, “Sometime soon, come with me. Let’s go abroad for a while—let’s go to New York City.”

“To New York? Why?”

“To meet someone… someone very important to you. Sylvie’s family.”