The Waitress With a PhD Who Silenced a Arrogant And Rude Billionaire
Chapter 26
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On Friday morning, the medical foundation sent a van to take Gloria to her first appointment with the specialist, Dr. Sarah Chen. The doctor was thorough and kind, spending two hours examining Gloria, adjusting her medications, and creating a comprehensive care plan.When Gloria came home that evening, she looked happier than Camille had seen her in months. "Dr. Chen said my condition is manageable. With the right treatment, I could have 20, 30 more good years."Camille hugged her mother tightly. "That's wonderful, Mama.""She asked about you, too. Said the foundation wanted to make sure the whole family was supported. They're even offering me a home health aide two days a week, so you don't have to worry about me so much."Everything was falling into place. But Camille felt strange about it: grateful, yes; relieved, absolutely; but also uncomfortable. This was too much, too fast. Theodore was essentially remaking their lives, and while the results were positive, she felt a loss of control.Saturday evening, Theodore called. "How's your mother?""Much better. Thank you.""And you? Have you started working on your dissertation?""Not yet. It's been a busy week.""Of course. Listen, I know this has all happened quickly. I wanted to ask if you'd have dinner with me. Just to talk. To make sure you're comfortable with everything."Camille hesitated. Dinner felt too personal, too much like a date. But they did need to talk, and doing it in a public place felt safer than more coffee shop meetings."Okay. Where?""There's a quiet Italian place on Oak Street. Tuesday at 7:00?""I'll be there."Tuesday evening, Camille dressed in a simple red dress she'd bought years ago in Paris. It still fit, though it hung a bit looser now. She arrived at the restaurant to find Theodore already there, wearing dark jeans and a white shirt: casual, but nice.The restaurant was indeed quiet, with low lighting and intimate tables—not bright like the Sterling Oak, but not dark either. The walls were cream-colored, decorated with paintings of Italian landscapes.They ordered: Camille chose pasta primavera, Theodore got risotto. They made small talk while waiting for their food, discussing the weather, the city, nothing of consequence. When their meals arrived, Theodore set down his fork and looked at her seriously."I want to be transparent with you about something."Camille's stomach tightened. "What?""I'm enjoying this: getting to know you, helping you. It makes me feel purposeful in a way I haven't felt in years." He paused. "But I don't want you to feel obligated to spend time with me because I'm helping your mother. If you want to maintain distance, just receive the assistance and never see me again, I understand."Camille considered this. The honest answer was complicated. "I don't know what I want," she admitted. "Part of me is still angry at you. Part of me doesn't trust you. But another part sees that you're trying to change, and I respect that.""Fair enough.""Why are you doing this, really? Not the guilt or the restitution. What's the real reason?"