"If that's how you feel, there's not much left to say. Just remember the lesson from last time, will ya? Stay clear of the taken men. There's no one here you want to mess with."
After mingling with the VIPs, Balfour sidled up to Dean, whispering, "Grandma and Ivy have been upstairs for a bit. I'll go check on them. Grandpa, don’t drink anymore wine. I've had someone swap it out for juice."
Dean had been nodding agreeably to the first part, but when it came to surrendering his liquor, his face dropped. It wasn't easy, sneaking extra drinks while the missus was away, and now even this small pleasure was being snatched away by his own grandson.
Balfour couldn't care less about Dean's disgruntled look; at his age, he needed to watch it.
Bounding up the stairs two at a time, Balfour pushed open the door only to find Ivy gently massaging Alyssa's temples.
"Shh—"
Ivy immediately gestured for Balfour to keep it down as he entered.
It seemed that age was indeed catching up with Alyssa. Just a bit of socializing downstairs had worn her out.
Balfour's brow furrowed with concern at the sight.
Time was slipping through his fingers, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He took a seat next to Ivy, his gaze heavy with worry as he looked at the silvery strands in Alyssa's hair.
Once they were sure Alyssa was sound asleep, Ivy tiptoed around to tuck her in with a light blanket, then led Balfour out to the balcony.
"Time spares no one. Their health is fading," said Balfour.
Ivy had never seen such a somber look in Balfour's eyes. He was visibly downcast, his frown shielding his emotions.
Ivy felt the sorrow that hung around him, and she couldn't help but wrap her arms around his head.
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