Inside, the lobby was now empty, the receptionist having already left for the day. Deven wondered absently, if it was the same kind receptionist who had helped her on many a visit with her father. They passed down a long hallway with, what Deven recalled, were examination and testing rooms.

The office was comprised of three oncologists, Paul being the youngest and most recent addition to an already successful practice. Because of his short tenure, he had one of the smaller offices between them, but still just as grand with its oversized desk and two chevron chairs. Save for a few abstract paintings he’d placed on the walls, it looked exactly the same as she remembered. A creature of habit, she had teased him once.

Paul closed the door behind her and rounded the desk, taking a seat in the executive chair. Deven stood in place, not really sure what she should do. “You know, you can sit down,” he invited, his voice filled with understanding at her discomfort. “Unless you would prefer to stand.”

She would prefer to leave, but Deven kept that thought to herself. She sat down in one of the chairs and eyed his desk. File folders were neatly stacked, each labeled and tabbed with names that were written in the handwriting only he could read. A single frame sat on his desk, the picture angled in his direction, which only piqued her curiosity about the image. He worked from a laptop which was already closed, a sign she was keeping him from leaving. That made her feel even worse and again, she regretted coming.

“How have you been?” he started. The leather squeaked with his movements as he leaned back in the chair.

“I’ve had better days.”

“What’s wrong, Deven?” He paused, clearly unsure of how to broach the subject. “Is it the miscarriage?”

Interesting how she wished it was something as uncomplicated as that. “No. Not really.”

A shadow fell over Paul’s face, something dark and unreadable but it obviously had dampened his mood. “I know how you feel,” he murmured. “We haven’t spoken in a while, so you don’t know. Amber and I lost the baby.”

“Paul, I’m so sorry.” And she was. That pain was all too recognizable, and she wouldn’t wish it on her worst enemy.

He held up his hand to cease any further condolences. “I guess I didn’t realize at the time how much it affects you.”

Deven reached across the desk, her hand finding his. “Yes, you did. You were there when I needed you. You helped me.”

“Did you see the therapist I recommended?” Paul shifted gears a little.

“Yeah.”

“And? How has it been going?”

Deven shook her head to dispel further inquiry. “That’s not why I’m here, Paul. I need to talk to you about my sister.”

A frown creased his handsome face. “Your sister? I don’t remember meeting her.”

“Kennedy.”