He stops dancing for a second, but I hold on and continue moving, keeping us close so he can’t see my face. He falls into the rhythm again, the slow back and forth of our feet.

“How did you find out?” he asks.

I tell him everything. About me blundering into the hotel room that day, yes, but also about Mom and Pop and how solid I thought things were between them until recently. I even fill him in about Afton and her drama. It takes dancing to two more songs.

Nick doesn’t say much. He’s the epitome of a good listener, quietly taking in all that I have to say. Then he simply says, “No wonder you put pepper in Billy Wong’s tea.”

I bark a humorless laugh. “That was a mistake.”

“Was it, though? I’m almost sorry I stopped you.”

“It was stupid. I’m glad you stopped me. It wouldn’t have fixed anything.”

“Yeah, but maybe it would have made you feel better.”

“Probably not.”

He clears his throat. He has something he isn’t saying.

“What?” I ask. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing. It’s just, I’m disappointed in Billy. And it makes me remember when . . .” He trails off.

“Remember what?”

“No, we’re talking about you,” he says. “Not my drama.”

“Please, let’s stop talking about me. I just spilled all the sordid details of my life, so it’s only fair for you to get to do the same. Tell me. What did you remember?”

He takes a breath. “Okay. I was thinking about when my mom came to see me.”

“Your mom? I don’t think I’ve ever met her.”

He shakes his head. “You wouldn’t have. She was a resident when she and my dad had their thing. And you know, it’s not like how they show on TV, with surgeons hooking up with residents all the time. That doesn’t usually happen, right?”

“I don’t know. My mom’s life strongly resembles a soap opera right now. But yeah, I get it. So your mom was a resident.”