Sorry it's late! I've had so much work to do! Thank you for reading!

Tris

Traffic is more of a monster than usual, and I end up jogging on heels from the parking lot, juggling my cortadito, my work bag and my purse. The effort is worth it when I roll into the executive suite five minutes after nine.

Fortunately only Marlene sees me come in late, and I doubt she'll tell anyone.

"Good morning," she says, apparently chipper in the morning, which is super annoying to a non-morning person.

"Morning."

"Did Dr Eaton's sister find him last night?"

That stops me dead in my tracks. "His sister?"

"She's very pretty. I could see the resemblance, actually."

"That's interesting, because Dr Eaton doesn't have a sister."

Marlene stares at me, her eyes wide. "He doesn't?"

"He's an only child, so it seems you gave his location to someone who isn't actually a family member, Marlene. That could've been very dangerous if she'd been looking to harm him."

I feel like shit when her eyes fill with tears, but it's true. She can't just give out a colleague's personal information without their permission.

"Is he . . . He's all right?"

"He's fine, but he was extremely unhappy to be confronted by the woman who caused the scandal in New York."

"That's who she was?"

"That's who she was."

"Oh my goodness. I'm so sorry. I feel terrible." She looks up at me with eyes gone shiny with tears. "You won't tell Mr Andrews, will you?"

I offer a smile and a wink. "You kept my secret, and I'll keep yours."

"Oh, thank you, Tris. You're the best. I'm so glad you've joined our team."

"Me too." I go into my office and get settled for the day. I send Tobias a quick text to tell him that Marlene was the one who gave his "sister" the address of his hotel.

Tobias: Well, that's one mystery solved. Leave it to Lauren to lie about everything.

Tris: I told Marlene she shouldn't be giving out that info without permission. She's very sorry.

Tobias: Tell her no worries.

I put down my phone and get started with my email where I find a message from Tori, the nurse administrator friend of Tobias' from New York.

Hi Tris,

Here are some more testimonials that came in from former patients and colleagues of Dr Eaton's. I heard the board here has offered him his job back. Tell him we're all elated to hear that and can't wait to have him back where he belongs. I texted him, but haven't heard from him. Hope he's holding up all right in the midst of all this nonsense. Anyway, I'm not sure if you still need the testimonials, but figured I'd send them along. Thanks for all you've done to help Dr Eaton.

All best,

Tori.

I feel absolutely dead inside reading that message, hearing how excited his former colleagues are that he's returning to them. I read through the testimonials from thankful patients, family members of patients who died despite Tobias' heroic efforts and colleagues who sing his praises as a physician and human being.

I add each one of them to the PowerPoint presentation, which includes a cascading array of testimonials. I realize there're probably too many of them, but in light of what we're trying to accomplish, I include them all.

I add the bullet points Tobias emails me about his research, save the file on our internal server and share a link to the latest version with Mr Andrews.

An hour later, he comes to my office, knocking on my open door before he steps inside. "Good morning."

"Morning."

"I saw the latest version of the presentation. It's outstanding. Kudos, Ms Prior."

"Thank you. I'm glad you're happy with it."

He sits in my visitor chair, seeming morose. "It may all be for nothing. Did you hear that New York invited him to return?"

"I did hear that."

"I spoke with the chair of our board earlier, and she feels it would be inappropriate for us to proceed with him in light of this development."

My heart sinks. "So that's it? It's over, then?"

"I believe it is."

"Oh, well." I can't break down in front of my boss. I won't cry at work. But I want to. I really, really want to.

"You did great work on this project, and I'm pleased to offer you the director's position if you're still interested. You'd be charged with hiring your own assistant to replace yourself."

Crushing lows, soaring highs. I can't keep up with this roller-coaster ride I'm on. "I . . . Yes, that would be wonderful. Thank you for the confidence you've placed in me."

"The board is interested in doing more of the kind of community outreach you coordinated for Dr Eaton. I'd like you to oversee that as part of your new duties."

"I can do that."

"Excellent." He leans across my desk to shake my hand. "Congratulations, Ms Prior."

"Please, call me Tris."

"I'd be happy to. I'm David."

I should be thrilled. I've been promoted in my second week, I get to hire my own assistant and I'm on a first-name basis with the hospital president. But I'm not thrilled. I'm heartbroken for myself while happy for Tobias. The wide array of emotions is almost too much to process.

A wrong has been righted. That's what matters here, or so I tell myself.

I force myself to keep my emotions locked away until I can fully wallow in them later. "I talked to my parents, and they said to let them know when you and Mrs Andrews would like to come in for dinner. They'd be delighted to have you."

"That's wonderful. My wife will be so excited. She loves the Cuban food at Prior's. I'm partial to the Italian myself. Our anniversary is on July twelfth."

"I'll get you a reservation for seven?"

"That's perfect. Thanks again."

"Anytime."

Mr. Andrews —David—leaves my office, and I try to refocus on the notes the former director left me about ongoing projects, upcoming events and other things that'll require my attention as the new director.

I can't concentrate on anything, so I decide to take a walk to clear my mind. I wander through the hospital, getting to know the place as I go. In the elevator, I randomly choose the fourth floor, which is labor and delivery. I pass the closed doors to the neonatal intensive care unit where premature babies fight for life. I watch as an elated couple is escorted to the elevator from the other side of the long hallway. The woman is in a wheelchair with a baby in her arms as the man follows behind her, carrying the baby's car seat.

I wonder what it would be like to be that woman, on my way home to start the next phase of my life with my child and the man who loves me. If Al had lived, that would've been us, at least twice by now, if not three times. We debated how many children we wanted. Two for sure, with more open for negotiation we never got to have.

On the sixth floor, where the oncology department is housed, I encounter a young male patient attached to a rolling IV stand, walking with a nurse, who encourages him to take a few more steps as he grimaces in pain. I say a silent prayer for his full recovery.

On the seventh floor, I land in the pediatric ICU where I ask for Mateo Diaz at the nurses' station. They direct me to room 718. I knock on the door, and Sofia jumps up to greet me with a hug. She speaks to me in Spanish, thanking me for coming by and singing the praises of Dr Eaton, who saved her little boy's life.

Mateo, dwarfed by the big hospital bed, is awake and alert.

"How's he doing?" I ask her in Spanish.

"So much better. Thank God."

"That's wonderful news. And how are you?"

She hesitates before answering. "All that matters is that my baby is alive."

"What do you need, Sofia? What can we do to help?"

With tears in her eyes, she leads me to the doorway so we won't be overheard by her son. "I lost my job because I was absent, my rent is due and I have no idea what to do."

I pull out my phone. "Give me your number. I'll talk to some people and see what can be done to help."

"You've already done so much. I heard you're the one who arranged for Dr Eaton to come to the clinic. Without him . . ." She glances at Mateo. "I don't know what we would've done. He donated his services and paid for the hospital costs out of his own pocket. Did you know that?"

"I didn't, but I'm not surprised." If I hadn't already been most of the way in love with Tobias Eaton, I would be now.

"It's enough, Tris. I'll figure out the rest."

"Give me your number anyway. People will want to help."

Reluctantly, she gives me her number, which I type into my contacts. "I'll see what I can do."

"God bless you."

I hug her, and when I pull back, Tobias is standing there. For a second, I'm confused because I thought he was going to the clinic this morning.

"How's my friend Mateo doing?" he asks Sofia.

"He's so much better."

"I heard that. I'm so glad. I'll be in to see him in just a minute. Tris, may I have a word, please?"

"Sure." I squeeze Sofia's arm as I follow Tobias into the hallway.

I want to hug him and kiss him and thank him for what he's done for Mateo. I want to ask him if he's heard that the board has deferred to New York's wishes to have their star pediatric neurosurgeon back. But I don't do any of those things. Rather, I wait to hear what he has to say.

"I've got to go to New York."

My heart drops like a lead sinker in a murky pond. "Okay."

"They've got a three-year-old girl with the same tumor Mateo had. I'm flying up to operate on her, but I'll be back as soon as I can."

I bite my lip and nod, intent on getting through this without becoming emotional. "I hope it goes well."

"I do, too. Her situation is a bit more complex than Mateo's was."

His blue eyes gleam with the anticipation of a complicated new case. He's clearly in his element.

"Mr Andrews offered me the PR director's job this morning."

"Seriously? Tris, that's amazing. Congratulations." I can tell he wants to kiss me but restrains himself out of deference to where we are. "One week on the job and you're already getting promoted."

"I think it's more because the director decided not to come back after her maternity leave."

"That's not why. It's because Andrews knows what an asset you are to his team. He never would've offered it to you if he wasn't pleased with your work."

"I suppose that's true."

"It's entirely true. I'm really happy for you and super proud."

"Thanks." I bask in the glow of his approval for a few final seconds while wondering if I'll ever see him again. When he gets back to New York where his old job is waiting for him, what reason will he have to come back here? I can ship him the stuff he left at my place, I guess. "Good luck with the surgery."

"Thanks. I'm going to leave Berta in the parking lot here and take an Uber to the airport. Just in case you see her out there."

"Okay."

"I'll text you when I can."

I nod and start to walk away, determined to hold my head up and soldier on even if my heart is breaking.

"Hey, Tris?"

I turn back to him, raising a brow while drinking in the sight of him and trying to commit him to memory. As if I could ever forget.

"I will be back."

I nod and continue on my way, clinging to my composure as I go. I can do this. I've been through worse. I'll get through this, too. When I return to my office, I text Abuela and Nona, telling them about Sofia's situation and asking what we can do to help.

Abuela responds first. We're on it, querida.

Thanks for letting us know, Nona adds.

Next question, Abuela says, is how are YOU?

Tris: I'm ok. Tobias is going back to NY to do a surgery, but he said he'll be back. I guess we'll see.

Ay, mija, Abuela says, I know this is so hard, but that boy is falling for you. We all saw that. He'll be back.

Tris: I hope you're right.

Abuela: When have you ever known me not to be?

Nona: You had to toss her a softball. Nona says in her usual dry way.

I laugh out loud, delighted as always by them.

Tris: Love you guys. Thanks for always being there for me—and everyone else, too. I want to be you two when I grow up.

Nona: You're already the best part of us. We love you, too. We'll get something going for Sofia.

I reply with the kiss-face emoji. Sofia won't know what hit her when the two of them mobilize on her behalf.

I force myself to focus on work, to push everything else to the side and give my all to the job I'm being paid to do. I want to make Mr Andrews glad he asked me to be the director. I work with HR to start the recruiting process for an assistant. I write a press release about one of our cardiologists winning a prestigious award and another for a nurse supervisor who's retiring after forty years at the hospital. I interview them both and pour my heart and soul into telling their stories.

Both releases are picked up by various local media outlets, which is a win for me—and the hospital. I also contact Lynn Rivera to thank her for the wonderful story about Tobias and his work at the clinic and suggest a follow-up on how well Mateo is doing. She agrees to pitch the idea to her producers.

Days pass in which I do little more than go through the motions—get up, get ready for work, stop at Juanita's, go to the office, chat with Marlene, devote all my attention to my work, sit through meetings, rinse and repeat. Several days after Tobias left, I have dinner at the restaurant. I'm treated to the full rundown of fundraisers and efforts my grandmothers have put together to help Sofia, who is overwhelmed by their generosity. All the while, I try not to think about Tobias, which is easier said than done.

I got one brief text from him the day he left—letting me know he arrived safely in New York and was heading into surgery. Since then? Nothing.

I tell myself he's busy saving lives, doing what he was put on this earth to do. It's the way things should be, even if I miss him more than I ever thought possible. I feel a little guilty about how badly I want him back in Chicago, because I know his work and research would probably be better served if he stayed in New York. Guilt aside, though, I miss him so badly I ache with it.

On Friday, the board meets for the day as scheduled. According to Marlene, who helped to prepare for the meeting, the matter of Dr Tobias Eaton is not on their agenda. I process that information with the sinking feeling inside that's become all too familiar to me during this seemingly endless week.

The one bright spot is that I get my first real paycheck and stare at the details with a sense of disbelief. I always did well at the restaurant, but this is even better, especially after how hard I worked to get through school. I pay my rent, pay down a chunk of my credit card balance and wallow in the sense of accomplishment that comes with ridding myself of debt.

I spend the weekend alone, holed up in my apartment, licking my wounds and wondering if Tobias meant it when he said he'd be back. I relive every minute we spent together, wallowing in details I never want to forget. I watch Lynn's interview with him a hundred times and scroll through the photos I took of him playing dominoes with the old men, eating at Prior's, drinking at the bar and sitting on North Avenue Beach.

When I realize I don't have a single photo of the two of us together, I'm gutted by a feeling of loss so intense it takes me back to the darkest days of my life. I hate returning to that place, even if I continue to tell myself this is nothing like that. I'm learning that heartbreak is heartbreak, regardless of what causes it. With all the photos I took of him for Instagram, how could I not have thought to take a selfie of us together? I call in "sick" to Sunday brunch because I just don't have it in me to answer questions from each of my overly concerned family members.

It doesn't surprise me when my parents and grandmothers arrive at my door Sunday afternoon bearing brunch leftovers, enough food to get me through the week without having to hit the grocery store. That's a welcome relief, as I don't feel like doing anything.

I appreciate that they stay for only half an hour, during which we talk about everything other than the elephant sitting on my chest, before they depart to open for dinner at the restaurant. Once again they give me reason to thank my lucky stars to have been born into a family that cares the way they do, even if there are times I wish they cared a tiny bit less.

By the following Wednesday, I'm convinced my relationship with Tobias was nothing more than a figment of my overactive imagination. If it hadn't been for the clothing and personal items he left at my apartment, I'd think I dreamed the entire thing. I've taken to sleeping in one of his dress shirts that still bears the faint scent of his cologne. Don't judge me. I'm trying to be strong, but I miss him, even if my rational self is convinced it's absolutely crazy to feel this way about someone I spent one week with.

It was a really, really good week.

I'm at my desk on Thursday when Marlene comes into my office and closes the door. I can tell with one look at her that she's bringing me a scoop.

"What's up?"

"The board is meeting in executive session."

"About what?"

"Mr Andrews said it's a personnel matter and that he couldn't say anything else."

"Okay . . ."

"Debby in the cafeteria said she heard it's about Dr Eaton."

My heart stops. "Really?"

Marlene nods. "She heard he requested the meeting."

I can't. I just can't. If I allow myself to go there . . . "Thanks for letting me know."

"Have you heard anything?"

"I haven't." Marlene is dying to know what went down between me and Tobias, but I'm not telling her or anyone about that. It's our business, and it's in the past now, anyway.

Her cherubic face falls with disappointment. "Oh. Okay." She clears her throat. "I'll, ah, let you get back to work."

"Thanks, Marlene. Close the door when you leave?"

"Of course."

When the door clicks shut, I release a long exhale. My skin feels hot and tight, my heart is beating fast and my mouth is dry. I want to text him and ask if the rumors are true, but if he wanted me to know, he would've told me. I haven't heard anything from him since that one text more than a week ago.

I stand and stretch, walking over to the window that looks down upon the circular driveway where we first met. I think about Berta and Molly and my trip to jail, about Tobias bailing me out and asking for my help in restoring his damaged reputation. I dream about kissing him and touching him and making love with him, of sleeping in his arms and waking to his handsome face on the pillow next to mine.

I blink back tears and give myself yet another pep talk, the hundredth one in the last week. I was fine before him. I'm determined to be fine after him. It was fun, and I'm glad I met him. I'm relieved to know I can have feelings for a man other than my late husband. These are all good things, and maybe if I keep reminding myself about them, I might just survive this.