“Never,” I said, standing up and smoothing my skirt. “She’s just making sure there will be cake.”

“There is definitely cake,” Daniel promised, his eyes locking onto mine with a deeper intensity. “But before we head over to Brookline, I want to show you something.”

He held out his hand to me.

I looked at his open palm, remembering the first time I had held his hand in the sterile, frightening atmosphere of the intensive care unit.

Then, it had been a gesture of professional comfort; now, it felt like a bridge to something entirely new.

I placed my hand in his, his fingers wrapping warmly around mine.

“Chloe, go see if Mrs. Gable has those sugar cookies she promised you,” Daniel told his daughter, gesturing toward the catering tables near the entrance.

Chloe nodded eagerly and hurried off toward the buffet, her yellow dress bobbing through the crowd.

Daniel led me through the glass doors and into the heart of the new wing.

The walls were painted a soft, calming shade of blue, and large skylights poured natural afternoon light onto the floors.