The next week was an exercise in regret—and loneliness. My world seemed very dull without Seth in it. Colors seemed faded. Food tasted like cardboard. Or maybe that toast last night had actually been cardboard. I hadn’t exactly been very mindful of what was going on in my life.

I’d received my second—and last—paycheck from Seth-Tech. It was for more than the first one had been. Probably that was Seth’s subtle way of micromanaging from afar. But I had to deposit it. Who knew how long it would take to find another job. Who knew when I’d be able to muster the energy to look for one.

I texted back and forth with my college roommate a few times, but other than that, I was pretty much a hermit. Seth had left a million messages, and Brad had called twice. I took to hiding my phone under my pillow so I wouldn’t see the screen light up.

I tried reading, but I couldn’t get into anything. I tried watching TV, but I didn’t have a clue what to watch. In college, I’d been too busy with my dual majors to watch much television and now I wasn’t familiar with current shows.

Still, I kept it on sometimes. It was better than listening to music. Since I left Las Vegas—and Seth—every song had felt like a breakup song. Not that we’d ever really been together. I’d just been a challenge for Seth to solve.

It hurt to think that, but it was true.

At any rate, I assumed he’d stop calling soon. I think I proved pretty well that I’d never be able to speak up when I needed to. I’d known that all along, but Seth had almost made me believe otherwise.

Curled up on the couch, I flipped through the channels aimlessly. I was wearing jeans, a tee shirt, and fuzzy socks, but only because all my pajamas were in the hamper.

Today’s viewing selection was rather pathetic. Fast food commercial. Kitty litter commercial. Soap opera. Another kitty litter commercial. Hmm, maybe I should get a cat. Or a guinea pig like Cupcake.

But thinking of that was painful. I still remembered Seth’s grin when he’d teased me about that.

Another channel had toddlers bowling, which was novel enough to make me stop channel surfing for a moment. Not sure what the show was, but small children were pairing up to push the ball down the lane, often dashing after it to give it another push when it slowed. It was bizarre, but amusing.

Until it made me think of Nana. She’d wanted me to go bowling with her at her place. Not that she could lift a heavy ball like that, but apparently Seth had made her some kind of device so that she could still play.

That hurt on two levels. I’d really believed in helping Seth create and market products for people like Nana. Other seniors deserved to have the things Seth had made to make life easier for Nana. But they also deserved the fun things he’d made for Nana, too.

The thought of never seeing Nana again was painful, too. I’d only met her in-person a few times, but we’d talked on the phone frequently when I worked at Seth-Tech. And she’d recorded that message for my first presentation to the board. My only successful presentation ever. No way was I trying anything like that again.

Thinking of Seth was likely to make me start crying again, so instead I focused on Nana. Would Seth even tell her what happened? Probably not since he didn’t come off too well in that story. Neither did I. But I hated for her to think that I’d just disappeared without saying goodbye.

Shutting off the TV, I rose to my feet. Things between Seth and I would never be right again, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t have some closure with Nana. I’d drive over there, visit her, and say goodbye. And hell, maybe even bowl a few frames while I was there. It beat watching kitty litter commercials.

* * *

“Nana?”

The door to her unit was open, which was not unusual, but she wasn’t in the living room. Voices came from the back bedroom. Oh god, was she all right?

I rushed back and stopped in shock. There were five people in the room, two nurses, a big orderly, and two men in suits. Nana was lying her bed in the middle of them. The head of the bed was raised so much she was almost sitting, but she still looked small and somehow defenseless. She had the covers wrapped tightly around her and she was crying.

“What’s wrong?” I demanded, startling the nurses nearest me. Nana had always been so strong.

“Who are you?” The man who’d spoken was obviously some sort of administrator.

“I’m Erin. I’m a friend of her grand—“ I broke off. “I’m her friend. What’s wrong? Why is she crying?”

“You can’t be here, miss. You’ll have to leave.”

No way was I leaving until I found out what was wrong with Nana. “I signed in at the front desk. She’s allowed to have visitors.”

“This is obviously a bad time. Please come back another day.” The same man had spoken, but it was the huge orderly who walked toward me menacingly. He looked more like a bouncer at a nightclub than an orderly.

For a moment, I faltered. I could go out in the hallway and call Seth. He’d know what to do. But then Nana whimpered, and I darted past the orderly and went to her side.

Bending down, I looked her in the eye. Her normally vivid blue gaze was troubled. For a moment she focused on me, then her eyes flicked past me. And then I saw it. Fear.

“Has her grandson been called?” I placed my hand on Nana’s and she immediately grabbed onto it, squeezing my fingers tightly.

The other guy in a suit spoke up. “We tried. He didn’t answer the number he gave as an emergency contact, and when we called his company, some said he wasn’t to be disturbed. We tried to explain, but she wouldn’t put us through.”

Must’ve been Lola. Despite her excellent programming, she might not know the importance of a situation like this. “I’m sure Seth will get here as soon as possible. But for now, I’m here. And I’m not leaving.”

A nurse spoke up. “I know you’re trying to help, but you’re not family. Mrs. Spencer appears to be ill, and you can’t be part of any medical conversation involving her. I’m sorry, but there are privacy laws.”

“Mrs. Spencer is an adult who can choose to have anyone stay that she wishes.” I turned to her and squeezed her hand back. “Nana, would you like me to stay?”

She nodded immediately. The administrator looked like he was going to object, but then to my surprise, Nana spoke up. “I want her here.”

“That’s settled,” I said, sounding more confident than I felt. But Nana needed me. “I’m staying. And you’re staying.“ I pointed at the first man in the suit and the nurse who had just spoken. “And you. But the rest of you—get out.”

“I beg your pardon?” It was the man I’d said could stay. “I’m not sure who you are, Miss, but I’m Richard Holt, and I run this facility.”

“Nice to meet you. Send the others out.”

“What?” he sputtered.

“Mrs. Spencer isn’t sick—she’s scared. And having you all surrounding the bed isn’t helping. How would you like it if five people were looming over you while you were in your bed in your robe?”

He frowned at me for a moment. “Well, I guess Betty, you and Frank, and maybe you too, Tim, can—“

“Get out,” I said again.

And to my astonishment, they did.