“Marlowe.”
The dog thumped his tail once.
“Maeve. Priya. Dr. Whitcomb, even when she refuses coffee.”
“Cruel but reliable.”
“Elias and Miriam.”
“Yes.”
I turned my face toward Reid.
“And you.”
“Me.”
“That’s my family.”
His hand covered the back of my neck.
“Chosen.”
“I chose well.”
“You did.”
We stayed that way until my pulse settled.
Then I remembered the envelope on the bedside table.
Not an envelope.
A notification.
The clinic portal icon showed a new message.
My stomach tightened.
“Results.”
Reid followed my gaze.
“Do you want me to open them?”
“Yes.”
He took my phone again.
The secure page loaded slowly enough to become torture.
He read.
His expression did not change.
“That means bad news.”
“No.”
