Proportions. Dom’s got them in spades. I now understand why he is in a choir and a book club and does CrossFit and goes to the movies twice a week. He knows better than anyone how fragile life is.

“Don’t expect the world to be fair. It’s a lost battle. What you’re doing is amazing. The way you help those kids . . . I mean, I don’t know why anyone would put themselves through this, but I’m glad the world has Doms in it,” I say.

He finishes the burger in three bites before washing it down with the milkshake. The color is back to his cheeks. He still looks sad, but not sickly anymore.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t really have a choice.” He grimaces.

“What do you mean?”

He grabs the wrappers and disposes of them in a nearby trash can. It gives me time to admire his body in the scrubs. I know I shouldn’t. I know it’s not the time. But I can’t help but feel a pang of desire when I think about what’s under his uniform. Then he’s back next to me, ready to tell his story.

“When I was five years old, I was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia. The most common blood cancer among children.”

I feel like he’s punched me in the gut. I actually fold over a little. Dom, beautiful and big and tall and sturdy Dom, had leukemia? How could it be?

“I’m sorry,” I say dumbly. Humbly. What else can you say in this situation?

He nods. “It was actually a pretty by-the-book case. A story with a happy ending, as you can guess. I got chemotherapy right away. Went into induction. Four weeks later, I started going into remission. We weren’t out of the woods for a few years, though. It was a whole process. The interim maintenance, the checkups, the wait for the results to come back each time. Sleepless nights. Hearing my parents cry in their room when they thought I was asleep. Knowing my baby brother was sitting there, waiting for someone to throw him a crumb of attention because everyone was too busy taking care of me. It was . . . I don’t think there’s even a word for what it was.”

“I can imagine. No child should go through this.” My hand is on his arm again, and I realize clichés exist because they’re true. No child should go through this.

“The one thing I remember more than anything else was the nurses. The doctors. The people around me,” Dom continues. “I felt like they truly cared. They would call my mom after hours to see how I was doing. They would give me gifts, and tell me stories, and play with me. And the few people on staff who weren’t so nice stood out too. So I decided being a nurse was what I wanted to do pretty early on. I wanted to make a difference. I wanted the next Dom to know I had their back. That’s why I chose the oncology department.”