He raised his shoulders in a philosophical shrug, but I caught the faintest flicker of disappointment in his eyes before a deliberate kindness replaced it. “And miss a chance for a weekend with my favorite young ones? Besides, it might not work and then I’ll have something to distract me when I get the news. Cushion the blow, yeah?”

I felt a fake smile cross my face. “Of course.”

We were both lying; nothing could cushion that kind of disappointment. He’d poured everything he had into this, the longest of long shots: years of obsessive, slavish work; his reputation; all his personal financial resources. If Declan’s lab could produce a successful antiviral drug—one that could cure a specific viral illness, the way antibiotics could cure a bacterial illness—the medical implications would be massive. Operating on the theory that nanobodies not only could neutralize an acute infection but could potentially be used to induce a more active long-lasting immunity, the discovery would be a world-changing event if it worked and could be administered in a cost-effective way.

But if he failed, he’d risked everything: his funding and maybe even his facilities and staff. He’d have to start over.

“I’m not worried,” Declan said, giving every indication of someone who was worried. Compressing his lips into an inverted line, he redirected his gaze somewhere past me to the window. “It’ll work. Or it won’t. In the meantime, I get to enjoy Beau and all his cheerful curiosity, and Aurora and all her . . .” He paused in a diplomatic search for the right word. “. . . sparkly sass.”

“Sparkly sass?”

“Well, but you’re supposed to be hostile when you’re a teenager, yeah? All those adults trying to boss you when you already know everything? But actually, Kiki, she’s been only sweet whenever you’re not around.” At this, he managed a grin at my expense, and I couldn’t help smiling back; what woman can resist someone who loves her children? “I’m not claiming to be an expert or anything,” Declan went on, “but I think that kind of feistiness is a normal reaction to parenting.”

Time for a change of subject. “Well, enjoy your weekend with the sass. On a different note—any chance you know anybody in the public health system in Morocco? I’m hearing about an unusual illness.”

“I don’t,” he said. “What kind of illness? Is it safe to travel there?”

“As far as I know,” I assured him. “No travel advisories. Wally’s got his antennae up about something. If it’s real, I’ll run it up the flagpole, but it sounds vague. Maybe a viral outbreak, maybe nothing. Wally’s the kind of guy who sees every death as a potential pandemic.”

Declan cast a thoughtful look in my direction. “What kind of symptoms?”

“Wally said flu-like,” I hedged. “At least one young guy. I don’t know what the other reports were.”

“Hmm,” Declan said.

“It’s nothing, most likely.”

“In my experience,” said Declan, “when someone keeps saying ‘it’s nothing,’ that’s a good indication that it is actually something.”