Her pregnancy had remained private until a charity gala five months later.
Ethan’s company had issued a short congratulations post only after photographs appeared online.
Lauren had never wanted her daughter turned into corporate public relations.
She rested one hand on her belly.
“When was the last time you were with Madison?”
Ethan looked at the floor.
“Tonight.”
“Before the crash?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Silence.
Lauren nodded once.
“Hotel?”
“Yes.”
“Which one?”
“The Peninsula.”
Of course.
The same hotel Ethan had used to celebrate their fifth anniversary.
Lauren stood.
Ethan stood too.
“Please don’t leave like this.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“What?”
“I’m working.”
“Lauren, you just operated for hours.”
“And my patient is alive.”
“She’s your patient?”
Lauren’s expression changed for the first time.
Not much.
Just enough.
“No, Ethan. She is now the ICU team’s patient. Which means I’m also no longer obligated to pretend this conversation is anything except what it is.”
