“She has a rudimentary ventricle that isn’t composed of myocardium. It’s not functional. She’s seven weeks old, and she’s never breathed on her own, never been fully conscious.”

Leah recalled how, when Dylan was nine, a bad case of pneumonia had hospitalized him for two nights. Her anxiety had been so all-consuming that she’d barely slept.

“Isabella’s been here seven weeks?”

“Yes.”

“What’s her treatment plan?”

“A heart transplant is her only option.”

A stone of dismay dropped through Leah. “No.”

He regarded her steadily. “I’m afraid so.”

She spotted Dylan standing in front of a series of framed ink-on-paper drawings. Sebastian started toward him and Leah was on the verge of doing the same when a female voice spoke near her shoulder.

“You’re the only personal friends he’s had here, other than the Colemans.”

Leah turned to find a sixty-something woman with matte brown hair and false eyelashes.

“Is that right?” Leah asked pleasantly.

“That’s right.” Wearing scrubs patterned with llamas, the woman was wearing a badge that proclaimed her to be a PA named Markie. She moved her chin in Sebastian’s direction. “What’s your relationship with him?” She asked the question with unconcealed interest, as well as a trace of protectiveness.

“We’re friends.”

“Hmm.” Markie sized her up. “Well. Dr. Grant is bossy.” She made a tut sound. “Bossy’s not really the best word. . . . Hard-charging? Certainly high maintenance. A perfectionist. But here’s the deal: In my opinion, a few of the kids he’s treated have lived mostly because he was so determined that they wouldn’t die.”

Her words gave Leah chills.

“Unfortunately,” Markie confided, “that also means that he takes the losses harder than is healthy. We all take them hard, don’t get me wrong. But Dr. Grant takes them too hard. And I want him to have longevity at this because unless I miss my guess, and I don’t think I do, he’s destined to become one of the world’s best.”

“I see.”

“It sure would be nice for him to have someone to come home to. Someone he could talk to about things other than medicine and heart defects. Someone who could remind him about the best things in life.”

Like geometry? “I’m sure that would be very nice, but that someone won’t be me. I don’t do romance.”

A beat passed. Markie released a cackling laugh. When Leah didn’t laugh in return, Markie sobered and said, “Piffle,” with feeling. “He’s very alone.”

“I’m also very alone. For many of us that isn’t a detriment.”