Owen approached the table, his gaze pausing for a mere moment on James before giving a courteous nod and then sliding into the empty chair next to Mirabella, greeting her with a polite "Ms. Mirabella."
James was momentarily frozen, his expression a snapshot of bewilderment.
After finishing the last slice of fruit in her hand, Mirabella turned to Owen, wiped her hands with a napkin, and said thoughtfully, "I'll take your pulse."
"Thank you," Owen replied with a slight smile, the usual solemnity on his handsome face giving way to a more serene expression.
He rolled up his sleeve to reveal a slender wrist, the veins as distinct as a road map, and placed it on the table, palm up.
Mirabella's hand settled on his pulse. For a moment, her face took on the rare focus of a healer. Seconds later, she withdrew her fingers and spoke calmly, "You're recovering well. Continue with the medication I prescribed for another week, then you can stop."
"Got it, thanks," Owen said with a nod, aware that his condition had markedly improved. Whether it was a placebo effect or not, he certainly didn't feel the agitation he had while taking Dane's pills.
"It's nothing," Mirabella said with a casual wave, only to notice James offering her a napkin. She glanced at him, her look a silent question.
James looked effortlessly composed with a hint of nonchalance in his eyes. He simply said, "For your hands."
Mirabella still looked puzzled.
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