He didn’t say anything for a moment, and then I felt him nod against my shoulder. “Yeah, I want to,” he said. “I got really scared after what happened on Tuesday. But I was also so happy to be back. I don’t want to give up on this, babe.”

“Yeah, but maybe you should take it slow. An overnight trip so soon—”

“I can do it,” he said firmly.

I nodded quickly. “Okay,” I said. “That’s great. When is it? I can let David know I need some days off so I can come with you.”

“It’s on Tuesday, and we get back on Thursday,” he said. “But that’s okay.” He reached over and held my hand. “Believe me, I know I can do it if you’re there with me, but I need to do this on my own. Randy is going to come pick me up, and he’ll drop me off. I feel like it’s something I have to do. For me.”

“Okay,” I said again, squeezing his hand. “That’s great.”

“I also started reading up a bit on Dr. Reveno.”

I sucked in a breath. “Really?”

“Yes. And I just wanted to say thank you for pushing it, even when I gave you hell. And for everything you’ve done with the Art Bowl. I know they didn’t come to this decision without a bit of convincing on your part. Not sure I ever told you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

I swallowed and tried to push the guilt away as he leaned in for a kiss.

• • •

I couldn’t sleep, and I got up an hour later and walked out into the living room. I checked my phone and saw that I’d missed a call from an unknown number.

I also had a Skype message. I sucked in a breath when I read it.

Mrs. Wileson. It’s Dr. Reveno. Ruby Bryant gave me your phone number and told me about your husband. I’d love to talk with you soon. You can give me a call back here.

I pressed his name immediately to call him back.

I almost cursed out loud when a man answered the phone, his voice low and sleepy.

“Hello?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. You were asleep.”

There was a pause, and then I heard some shuffling.

“Hello?” he said again.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Is this Dr. Reveno?”

There was another pause, and I had to assume he was looking more closely at the screen, because a moment later, he spoke up, his voice a hair clearer. “Yes, it is. Mrs. Wileson?”

“I’m so sorry,” I said again. “The time change didn’t occur to me. I just called you back as soon as I saw your note. It must be, what, 4:00 a.m.?”