Alex’s voice betrayed a momentary loss of surety; and it confused her. What he’d just said had contained a compliment, and also a riddle. But the space between the two closed quickly when he replaced her chart and looked at her again with clarity.

“I’ve checked your medication and glanced at the tissue report and obs. I haven’t seen the notes from your surgery yet, but I’ll catch a word with Mr. Azziz or Mr. Denham about you today. It seems like serendipity. It’s not the heart you were originally coming in for, I gather, but a better one, possibly. Two suitable matches in as many days? You’re lucky.”

Lucy felt like she’d been through a terrible car crash, in truth; the drugs didn’t quite mask the top of the pain. But despite her dislocated sense of self, she strained to read something in Alex Stafford’s face that wasn’t usually there. She couldn’t discover it; couldn’t entirely recognize the stranger who had chased away his usual peace and quiet strength. Nor could she attempt bravado: she wasn’t physically up to it, and was tiring quickly. But she did her best.

“Don’t worry about the rest of the world today. I’m not going anywhere. You need one of these,” she said, pointing at her drip, “and to get yourself to bed. I’ve never seen you look so exhausted. You obviously had a rough trip.” Even through the ether of her drug-induced reverie, and despite the cloth hiding most of his face, she saw sharply that he hadn’t slept for, perhaps, a few days. He was a handsome man with nicely chiseled features, and always kind. The nurses loved to chat about him. But he looked ghastly today—his green eyes red-rimmed. Not a man you’d bring home to tea.

“All right.” He laughed, and was grateful for her perceptiveness. “I may look in tonight, and tomorrow you should be back in the step-down ward. I’ll join up with Mr. Denham then and we’ll go through your antibiotics with you, what we need to do to prevent infections after your surgery.” He adjusted her top sheet. “Is there anything you’d like?” He was in charge again. The mask between the man and the doctor had slipped only for a second. “You’re on nil by mouth for a day or so, so no roast beef and Yorkshire pudding just yet.”

Lucy was a vegetarian, which he knew well; but the joking idea sounded strangely like the comfort food her aunts used to give her as a child, and welcome. “Nothing now, thanks. Could I have some lemon tea tomorrow? I’m craving it.”