“Nice to meet you both,” I say. And I mean it. My parents taught me manners, after all. But they also told me to be confident. So I don’t sit. Because Isobel is right. If these people really are crazy? Sitting is not where I want to be.

“First of all, I want to thank you and your son for saving my life. Truly. I wouldn’t be where I am without you both. Without…your son.”

How do you talk about someone in the past tense when it’s so clear that he’s still a part of their lives? Neither of them falter, except for Greg’s eyes flicking to the photos on the walls and mantel and Claire’s cheek twitching just slightly.

“I know there are a lot of people you could have given the liver to.” I also know I wasn’t on the top of the list, but that’s a different question for another day. “I’m not sure how you found out that I was the one who got your son’s organ but—”

“But do you really care?”

There’s no proper way to answer that question. I settle on saying, “I care because I’m curious.”

The twitch on Claire’s face turns into a soft grin. There’s sadness behind her eyes, but she’s trained herself to smile to hide it. It’s probably some sort of defense mechanism; women in power can’t show weakness, but a smile? That’s disarming.

“Right answer.” A beat passes. “David, our son, would be happy to help, Andre.”

Greg nods. “That’s the type of person he was. Always helping others. Using your life to help another? This is the ultimate way of helping someone, I feel. Kinda like a coup de grâce.” He laughs. If Claire’s smile is her defense, then Greg’s laugh is his.

“And second of all?” Claire asks.

“Sorry?”

“If there’s a first of all, Andre, there has to be a second of all. You’re smart, trust me, I know. You’re not just smart—you’re smart with a capital S. So what else would you like to say?”

I stand quietly, listening to the heavy beating of my heart fill my ears. It’s a hard feeling to wrap your head around, knowing that you’re in over your head. Claire is right. I am Smart. Smart enough to know how to navigate around conversations. It’s a skill my parents taught me: always have an out. Always leave a good impression.

But right here? I’m out of my depth. Claire is calm and collected. Greg is disarming and supportive. They play off each other in a synergistic way. They fit together, slotting into each other, like a true power couple, forming an impenetrable wall.

The only way out is through. And the best way through something is the truth.

“Why am I here?”