And he doesn’t look away.

Neither do I.

Not until the bell over the door chimes, breaking whatever was happening between us.

Delilah walks in, a woman I don’t recognize following close behind.

“Hi,” Del waves, then nudges the other woman forward. “This is Nysa. I can’t believe you two haven’t met yet.”

I arch an eyebrow. Why do I have to meet her?

Before I can say anything, Nysa closes the distance between us. And then—she hugs me.

She hugs me.

“I can’t believe he hasn’t introduced us,” she says like we’re old friends.

I blink, stiff in her arms, before she finally steps back.

Suddenly, the music stops. “What are you doing here?” Atlas’s voice cuts through, even, but carrying something beneath it.

He’s wiping down his client’s skin, setting things aside as he approaches the desk.

“I came to meet your . . . wife,” Nysa responds, all too pleased with herself. “I cannot believe you didn’t tell me. Not even an invitation to the wedding. I thought I was your best friend.”

Atlas glares at her, jaw tight. “Who told you?”

“Simone, of course.”

“Fuck. What happened to doctor-patient confidentiality?” His voice drops, but it’s edged with irritation.

I don’t think that’s the term, but he seems so upset that I prefer not to be part of the conversation.

Nysa lifts a shoulder like it’s not a big deal. “Well, I was at the clinic with Maddy.” She stops, glances at me, and says, “That’ll be your niece. You’re going to love her.”

My niece? Is she related to Atlas? I’m confused, but don’t ask questions.

Nysa returns her attention to Atlas. “The point is that during the consult, she asked if we were excited about the new Timberbridge addition.” She does air quotes because, apparently, this is hilarious to her. “I, of course, pretended I knew all about said addition, and—” she smirks, “—she fessed up about you having not only a wife but also a baby on the way. Fifteen weeks, huh?”

Atlas exhales, closing his eyes like he’s pulling patience from a place that doesn’t exist.

“I should’ve known you and Simone would end up gossiping,” he mutters.

“The only part I don’t understand is why⁠—”

“Stop, Del.” Atlas’s voice slices through, his irritation sharpening. He turns to Nysa. “Right now, that’s not important, and I’d appreciate your discretion. You’ve been there, remember?”

Nysa’s expression sobers slightly, and she crosses her arms. “How bad is this?”

“We’re assessing everything.”

I want to ask what we’re talking about because she’s now looking at me with concern and no longer with curiosity. Was she in an abusive relationship? Is that where Maddy came from?

“Does Malerick know?” Nysa’s voice drags me back into the conversation.