We follow Pat down the hall, admiring the art on the walls, the beautiful prints of tattoo designs—some of them borne out on people’s bodies, others simply sketched on paper. When we turn into Pat’s room, I plop down on a stool next to Jamie, swiveling from side to side as he lies down on the fully reclined chair and starts to unbutton his shirt. With her back to me, Pat’s humming to herself, setting up some apparatus I’ve never seen.

“What is that?” I ask.

She stops humming and glances up. “Huh? Oh, this is a drape.”

“A what?”

Jamie clasps my hand. “Ever seen a C-section?”

“Uh, no. Thank God. Why would I?”

“Well, I don’t know,” he says. “Some people watch those birthing shows.”

“Not me. Nope.” I’m getting sweaty just thinking about it. “Birth’s lovely and all—you know, more power to my fellow humans who further the species, but I’d rather stay blissfully ignorant.”

Jamie frowns up at me. “But you said you like kids. You want kids.”

“I do!”

“And were you planning on them arriving by stork?”

“I’ll figure it out then. I just don’t want to know a moment before.” I fan myself, getting flustered. “I’ll just . . . cross that . . . birthing . . . bridge when I . . . come to it?”

Jamie sighs and shakes his head despairingly. Pat bites her lip, trying hard not to laugh at us.

“Anyway,” Jamie says, giving Pat an apologetic look as she sets up the drape across his sternum, shielding us from the rest of Jamie’s body. “I asked Pat if she could work with this if I could procure it. Given my medical supplier contacts, it wasn’t hard to pull some strings, and here we are.”

I grin. “Your dealer hooked you up.”

“He did. Drove a hard bargain, but in the end he got me what I wanted.”

“Why do you want this? Are you scared of needles?”

He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his arm nearest to me that’s free of the drape. “Not exactly.”

Leaning my elbows on the edge of his chair, I softly toy with the lock of hair that’s always slipping onto his forehead. “Why the drape, then?”

Pat shuts the cabinet and drops a pair of packaged sterile gloves, ready for use. “Need to restock gloves in here,” she says before walking out of the room. “Be back in five.”

When Jamie’s shoulders fall with relief, I realize why she left. To give us a moment alone.