Hollis caught her breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” Honor smiled wistfully. “She was my first and I thought my only. I’m incredibly lucky to have two such amazing women in my life.”

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure.” Honor gestured to a bench in the shade of a huge oak at the edge of the park. “Let’s take a minute. It’s a beautiful night.”

Hollis sat beside her, too heart weary to ask herself what the hell she was doing. “How long…how long did it take to feel like you could breathe again?”

“It felt like forever.” Honor rested her fingertips on Hollis’s arm. “And I guess forever is a really personal thing.”

Hollis scrubbed at her face with both hands. “Yeah. Sorry, I don’t know what—”

“I met Quinn about six years after Terry died, and at first I couldn’t really see her.” Honor laughed softly. “But my God, I could feel her. She filled up my life from the instant we met.”

Hollis’s chest tightened. “Were you scared?”

“Terrified.” Honor turned the wedding band on her ring finger. “Of risking. Of losing her. Of everything. But I couldn’t let her go.”

“She’s lucky you were brave,” Hollis said softly.

“Mmm, I don’t know that I was. I think falling in love with her helped me find some parts I’d lost and didn’t even know were gone.”

“Thanks for telling me,” Hollis said.

“Do you mind me asking who you lost?”

“My older brother. 9/11.”

“Oh God, that’s horrible.” Honor squeezed Hollis’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”

Hollis didn’t know what else to say. She didn’t even know why she was talking about Rob, except Honor Blake was the kind of woman who inspired trust. Her kindness was healing. “Thank you. For”—Hollis waved toward the park and the street and the dying day—“this. Talking helped.”

“Good. Anytime.” Honor took Hollis’s hand and, as they started to walk, added, “Now I’ve got a quick question for you. Business this time.”

“Shoot,” Hollis said.

Honor brushed an errant strand of hair away from her forehead and shielded her eyes against a blazing shaft of sunlight that slashed low across the horizon, as if the sun were making one last desperate attempt to avoid setting. “Annie gave Linda the okay to go back to work this morning, and she’s already bugging me to put her in the rotation. If I don’t give her a slot in the ER, she’ll talk someone, somewhere, into letting her float. Honestly, I’d rather keep her close in case there’s any trouble.”

“I’m sure if Annie cleared her, she’s okay for regular floor work. I just don’t want her flying. What do you think about putting her on half shifts instead of a full eight?”

Honor smiled. “For starters, I think she’ll complain. Then I think she’ll make my life a misery wanting to pick up overtime when someone calls in sick or we get busy. I can put her on eight hours and make sure she’s not on her feet the whole time. I’ll screen the cases she’s taking if I have to.”

“How about four days a week—that will give her enough downtime to get off her feet and recharge. I think as she gets closer to term, she’ll be grateful not to be working that much.”

“That I can do. How long do you think you’ll let her work—until eight months?”

“Let’s play it by ear. I’m sure Annie will be keeping a close eye on her.”

Honor waved to a tall man in a blue work shirt passing on the opposite side of the street. He held the hands of twin girls about Callie’s age. “How’s that working out? With Annie?”

Hollis’s stomach clenched until she realized Honor was asking about the exploratory committee. “Fine so far. Better than I expected, really.”

“Annie seems very competent.”

“Yes. Hopefully the rest of her group is like her.” Hollis glanced into the park where kids and adults gathered near the pond. She didn’t see Annie—too late, probably. The pang of disappointment annoyed her. “I doubt it, though. She’s pretty unusual.”

“Medicine is changing,” Honor mused. “We’ve got a lot more PAs in the ER than we did five years ago. Every division has physician assistants and nurse practitioners handling primary-care duties. We’d be in trouble without them.”

“Are you suggesting we OBs are holdouts? Dinosaurs?”

“I didn’t say that.” Honor laughed. “Although a few of you…”

Hollis grinned. “Yeah, okay. Maybe so.”

“I understand the concerns,” Honor said, pausing at the corner at the far end of the park. “But the bottom line is offering the best patient care, and multidisciplinary teams have definitely improved that in cancer care and rehab.”

“That’s the approach Annie and I will be taking—so I guess we’ll find out.” Hollis pointed to her house on the opposite corner. “I’m over there.”

“It’s ridiculous we’re only a few blocks away and we haven’t gotten together before this,” Honor said. “How about dinner Saturday night? Nothing fancy—we’ll grill something. Bring a guest.”

“All right,” Hollis said before she could fabricate an excuse. She wasn’t looking forward to a long weekend of her own disgruntled company. “I’ll be stag, though.”

“I’m glad you can make it. Is six okay? The kids are famished by then.”

“Yeah, I know,” Hollis said, thinking of Callie. “Sure, it’s fine.”

“’Night, then.”

“’Night.” Hollis waved and jogged across the street. Just as she reached her front gate, a car pulled to the curb and someone called her name. She wasn’t sure she hadn’t imagined it, but she spun around, a rush of excitement surging in her chest.

“Hi, Hollis!” Callie waved out the window of Annie’s Volvo.

Hollis walked over, bent down, and peered inside. “Hey, Callie. How are you doing?”

“We brought dinner.”

“Did you?” Hollis looked past Callie to Annie, who stared at her uncertainly. “Hi. You’re full of surprises.”

Annie blushed. “I took a chance you might be hungry.”

Hollis glanced into the backseat and saw the takeout bags. A panoply of delectable scents reached her and her stomach rumbled. She laughed. “I guess I am. You two want to come in?”

“I thought maybe we’d have a picnic in the park,” Annie said. “We’ve got another hour of light left. If you’re not too tired, I mean.”

Hollis wasn’t tired all. For the first time since she’d walked out of the hospital, she looked forward to the evening. “What do you need me to bring? I can grab—”

“Just you,” Annie said, the smile Hollis loved replacing the uncertainty in her eyes.

“I’m at your service, then. Let me carry the goods.”

“I’ll take you up on that.” Annie ducked her head and unbuckled Callie, hoping her relief wasn’t obvious. She hadn’t given herself time to think about what she was doing once she’d made the phone call to the restaurant. She wasn’t usually impetuous—not any longer. She didn’t do things on the spur of the moment, especially not with other people—other people who had somehow come to occupy the very center of her thoughts. Of course, she didn’t really know what she did in those circumstances because there hadn’t been anyone like that. Not for so long, and not for who she was now. She was a different person now. At least she hoped she was, or she was doing something completely crazy.

“I want to help carry the goods too, Mommy,” Callie informed her.

“Well, sit tight until I come around the other side, and then you can get out and help Hollis.”

“Okay. Hurry.”

Smiling, Annie stepped out of the car and looked across the roof at Hollis, who was watching her with an expression halfway between amused and that other look she got—the dark, contemplative one, where Annie imagined she saw hunger licking around the edges of a swirling fire. The look that made her burn inside. She swallowed. “I suppose I should’ve called.”

“No,” Hollis said, “you did exactly right.” She glanced down and grinned. “Can I let her out? She’s about to bust.”

Annie laughed and her uncertainty faded. “Yes, please.” She closed the door and hurried around to the sidewalk. Hollis leaned into the backseat, her jeans stretched tight over her very handsome ass. Callie danced from foot to foot, grinning as if she were about to get a Christmas present.

Hollis straightened with her hands full of bags of food and saw where Annie’s gaze had been riveted. Her eyebrows rose and she smirked. “Everything okay?”

“Just fine.” Annie willed herself not to blush—and thought she’d managed it—but Hollis’s eyes sparkled with satisfaction. Damn her—she knew how hot she was. Annie laughed. “And you know it.”

“Never hurts to hear.” Hollis handed Callie a plastic bag. “Here, Cal—you got the food. I’ll carry the sodas.”

“Okay!” Callie gazed at Hollis with an expression of awe, and Annie’s heart stopped in her chest. What if she was making a horrible mistake? She had more than just herself to think about. But she wasn’t doing anything—just a friendly dinner—oh, that was so much BS too. Oh God, what was she doing?

Hollis balanced the cardboard tray with sodas in one hand and closed the car door. “This is nice. Thanks.”

The pleasure in Hollis’s deep voice dispelled the last of Annie’s misgivings. “It’s not all that much. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so you’re having the same thing again.”

“That’s perfect. You remembered.” Hollis’s right hand drifted down to rest on the top of Callie’s head, the way Annie’s always did when they walked together.

The gesture was so touching Annie felt tears rise to her eyes. Oh, there was something terribly wrong with her. This wasn’t her. She turned her face away. “We should go before it gets too dark, and you need to eat.” She held out her hand to Callie. “Come on, baby. Let’s go.”

Hollis came up close to her side. “I’m starving.”

“Yes,” Annie murmured, carefully not looking at her. “I am too.”