When the worst of the storm abated, Elizabeth pulled back, wiping at her eyes and apologizing. That’s something I also understood, how embarrassing it was to be vulnerable.

“Listen,” I said, “do you have another doctor? Because even if this is normal or he can’t do anything, you deserve a doctor who’ll listen to you. Is this your GP or your ob-gyn?”

“My ob-gyn. If this time didn’t work, he was going to refer us to a fertility specialist, but he didn’t think it was necessary yet.”

“How about your GP, would you like to call him?”

Elizabeth half smiled. “It’s okay. You’re right, she’d be a better listener, but if something’s wrong, she can’t—” She gulped the end of the sentence down hard, her eyes creased with the effort of holding back tears.

“Okay.” Wyatt and Michael wouldn’t be back until the next night, and this house was so quiet, even quieter than my own. I couldn’t leave her alone. “Tell me if I’m out of line, but would you mind if I hung out here? We could watch a movie, order pizza, just take it easy. Hell, we can even stuff those stupid envelopes. I mean, with Michael out of town, it’s not like I’ve got anywhere to go …”

And she nodded, visibly relieved. “Yes. If it’s no trouble, I mean, if you don’t mind. That would be great.”

When I texted Michael—have Wyatt call E—I saw I’d missed a message from Lena about baking and another one about walking. I sent her a reply—sorry off grid today—and my phone buzzed again immediately: what’s going on?

Elizabeth looked up, and I felt her watching me as I answered: tell you later. Another incoming text felt like an intrusion, so without even looking, I silenced my phone. I could see the messages popping up, but I turned my attention completely to Elizabeth.

Right now, she needed me. Lena would have to wait.

Later that evening, I ordered out for pho from a nearby Vietnamese restaurant, figuring that chicken noodle soup would be nourishing and comforting. As we ate, I was relieved to see the color returning to Elizabeth’s face, even though she steered clear of the jalapeño and sriracha I added to my own plastic bowl.

When we finished, the fragrance of lemongrass lingered in the kitchen. Elizabeth rose from the table and moved to help me clean up, but I waved her away. “What’s the point of ordering delivery if you’re still going to play hostess?” I teased.

“Fine,” she answered with a grin. “I’ll go relax on the sofa while you do the heavy lifting.”

Just then, her phone buzzed with a text. She glanced at it and reached for the back of a kitchen chair to steady herself.