I stood, stretching my six-foot frame. At forty-two, I kept myself in shape. Not out of vanity, but necessity. Control. The same control that had made me a successful appellate attorney and the same control that had gotten me through my divorce three years ago.

“I’ll be back in fifteen minutes,” I said, leaning down to kiss her forehead. Her skin was clammy.

The hospital corridor stretched ahead, painted in those institutional colors meant to be soothing but that only managed to feel sterile. I walked past rooms where other families celebrated their own beginnings, my mind already ticking through the checklist Melissa had given me.