“Never.” Andrew paused. “He blamed himself for making you believe you didn’t need to.”
Robin looked away.
That night, Amanda finally asked Andrew to sit with her.
“When you looked at me in that hospital, who did you see?”
“At first? The girl my father never forgot.”
Amanda flinched.
“And after?”
Andrew thought.
“The morning you could barely sit up and spent ten minutes arguing that your mother needed a better chair.”
Despite herself, Amanda smiled.
“After that, you were Amanda.”
She studied him.
“I believe you love me. I don’t believe you had the right to hide this.”
“I didn’t.”
Andrew told her his father had later pushed for second reviews on unresolved pediatric cases.
“Was he a good doctor?” Amanda asked.
“Sometimes.”
“That’s a terrible answer.”
“It’s the only one I trust.”
Amanda glanced toward the tiny booties.
“And the name?”
Andrew started to answer, then stopped.
