Chapter 9: The Handoff

Six weeks after surgery, Justin closed the door of his exam room and locked it.

I noticed the click and kept my face blank.

Reed had said it in my kitchen weeks ago: Cora knew I had given blood.

I had asked everyone I could think of who might have told her, and I still had no answer.

"Sit," he said. "I have the results."

I sat on the exam table with my hands in my lap.

He pulled his stool close, and his knees stopped an inch from mine.

"Your remaining kidney is doing beautifully. Your scar has healed clean. You can lift, run, swim and drink like a normal person."

"In moderation."

"In moderation." The corner of his mouth moved. "You're discharged from my care, Cosima."

"That's it?"

"That's it. A colleague down the hall takes over for the yearly checks."

He held out a card.

I did not take it.

"You said that's how the rule stops applying."

"I did."

"So you transferred me."

"I did that three days ago." He set the card down on the table between us. "The file moves Monday at nine."

"You didn't ask me."

"No. I'm asking you now."

"Asking what?"

He took a slow breath.

"Whether, after nine o'clock Monday, you'd let me buy you a real dinner. With a tablecloth. Not soup in your kitchen, and not a diner at midnight."

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