Page 69 of Fighting For You

"What? She should know these things." Maureen turned back to me. "He was a handful. But he had the biggest heart in the house."

Knox stared at his plate. I could see the color rising on the back of his neck.

Cliff spoke when addressed, answered Knox's attempts at conversation with short, factual replies, and otherwise focused on his plate. He never looked at me for longer than he had to.

By the time dessert came out, my chest was tight and my hands were steady only because I was keeping them in my lap.

"Excuse me." I set my napkin on the table. "I need to use the bathroom."

"Down the hall, second door on your left," Maureen said.

I smiled and pushed my chair back.

The bathroom was spotless. Marble countertop, folded towels, a small vase of flowers beside the sink. I closed the door and gripped the edge of the counter with both hands.

I looked at myself in the mirror. My makeup was fine. My dress was fine. Everything looked fine.

I closed my eyes and breathed. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Trying to convince my body that everything was okay when my body already knew it wasn't.

Cliff Sullivan didn't want me here. I could feel it in every question he directed at Knox instead of me, every silence he let stretch, every time he looked through me instead of at me. I had spent the entire dinner performing for a man who had already made up his mind.

Cold water on my wrists helped. I dried my hands and opened the door.

Voices reached me before I turned the corner.

The library door was open at the end of the hall. Knox's voice came first, low and hard.

"Don't."

"I'm telling you what people are saying, Knox." Cliff's voice was measured, but there was an edge to it. "I work with this woman. I hear things."

"You hear gossip."

"I hear that one of my nurses has been seen having private conversations with a married attending. That there's talk at the hospital about the nature of their relationship. And now she's sitting at my dinner table." A pause. "I'm not going to pretend I don't have concerns."

"Harlan is her attending. She works under him. That's it."

"That's not what I've been told."

"By who?" Knox's voice rose. "By Liz? By Jen? The same nurses who can't file a chart without an error? That's your source?"

"Lower your voice."

"No." I heard Knox take a step. "You don't know her. You haven't asked her a single real question tonight. You sat there and decided who she was before she walked through the door."

"I'm trying to protect you."

"From what? From a woman who raised her brother by herself since she was twenty? Who works twelve-hour shifts in your ER and never complains? That's who you need to protect me from?"

Silence.

"You want to talk about who people really are, Dad? Let's talk about that. Let's talk about twenty years of birthday dinners where you shook my hand like I was one of your colleagues. Let's talk about⁠—"

"That's enough."

"No, it's not." Knox's voice was shaking now. "You don't get to sit in judgment of her. Not when you barely know your own son."

I heard footsteps. Knox came out of the library and stopped when he saw me standing in the hallway.