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I take my white coat off and hang it on the back of the chair. “You exaggerate.”

“I absolutely do not. You were smiling at your phone.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You were. It was unsettling. I considered calling neurology.”

I sit behind the desk. “Do you need something?”

“Yes. Information.”

“No.”

He lowers the coffee. “That was too fast. Which means the information is good.”

“It isn’t.”

His expression changes slightly. “What happened?” he asks.

I look at Maggie’s file on the desk. Her name is on the tab.

Maggie Hanes.

Seeing it printed like that still feels wrong. Too formal. Too exposed.

“She’s pregnant,” I say.

Marcus inhales at the exact wrong moment. He coughs once, then again, hard enough that he bends forward with one hand braced on my desk.

I wait.

He holds up a finger like this is somehow my fault.

“It’s not ideal to aspirate coffee,” I say.

He glares at me through watering eyes. “You just said wrong-number Maggie is pregnant.”

“Yes.”

“After you had sex with her.”

I look at him.

He coughs again, then grabs the glass of water on my desk and drinks half of it.

“Fine,” he says, voice rough. “I’m calm.”

“You’re not.”

“I am medically calmer than I was ten seconds ago.” He points at me. “Start talking.”

I lean back in the chair. “Alester Chandler has a surrogacy arrangement.”

Marcus stares. “With Maggie?”

“Yes.”

He puts the coffee down very carefully. “Of course he does. Because apparently the universe looked at your life and said, needs litigation.”