The cases were already there when he got back. Nothing had changed. That was the problem. The trays were stacked in the same order, the handwriting on the requisitions familiar. A few were marked more clearly than usual—Dr. Deetan, underlined.

Devon stood at the counter reviewing a log sheet. He looked up once as James walked in. “You want these first?”

James nodded. Devon slid a smaller stack forward. “I cleared what I could.”

James glanced at it. “Thanks.”

Devon hesitated, just briefly. “She okay?”

James nodded. “She will be.”

Devon held his gaze for a moment, then gave a small nod. “Alright. Let me know if you need anything covered.”

James nodded once. Devon shifted the log sheet aside. “We can start testing next week.”

“Courier?”

“Running. Twice a day.”

“And the interface?”

Devon gave a small shrug. “Jake says it’ll hold.” James watched him. “Then you won’t need to be down there,” Devon said.

James didn’t answer right away. “That’s the idea.”

Devon nodded. “That’s the goal.” He stepped away. 

By mid-morning, the calls started.

“They were expecting that Friday.”
“We told them you were out.”
“Just checking where it stands.”

Measured. Reasonable. Unavoidable. James answered each one cleanly—no excess, no explanation beyond what was necessary. At some point, word reached the group. Not announced, not discussed—but known.

“Sorry to hear,” one partner said in passing.

James nodded. “Thank you.”

“How’s your wife?”

“She’ll be okay.”

A pause. “And you?”

James held it for a second. “I’m alright.”

The partner nodded. “Good.” And moved on.

Stuart Masters didn’t. “I heard,” he said.

James nodded. “We lost one early,” Stuart said. James didn’t respond.

“My wife. First year.” A small silence settled between them. “You don’t forget it.”

“No.”

Stuart looked at him. “She’ll carry it differently than you will.” James held his gaze. “That’s the part most people miss.” The words stayed.

“If you need time,” Stuart added, “take it.”

“Thank you.”

Stuart nodded and moved on.

Later, in Bassman’s office—“You can’t sustain that pace,” Bassman said.

“I didn’t think I could.”

Bassman leaned back slightly. “We can shift some general work. But not the consults.” James didn’t respond. “They’re asking for you,” Bassman added.

“I know.”

A small silence.

“I can look at bringing someone in,” Bassman said. “Not immediately.”

James nodded. “I understand.”

Bassman held his gaze. “Do what you can.”

James didn’t answer, because that was exactly what he had been doing. When he stepped back into the lab, nothing had shifted. The cases were still there. The calls still coming. The same names, the same expectations. He worked through the rest of the day the way he always did—one case at a time, clean decisions, no hesitation where it wasn’t needed. By the time he left, the light outside had already started to fade. The drive home felt shorter than it had before. Not because of traffic. Because he wasn’t thinking about it.

Deanna was already there. She was at the counter, something half-prepared in front of her, though it didn’t look like she had started.

“You’re back,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“How was it?” she asked.

“Busy.”

She nodded. That was enough.

The phone rang before either of them said anything else. James picked it up.

“We’re getting people together tonight,” Stan said. “Emily’s cooking.”

James glanced at Deanna. “You up for that?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes.”

He went back to the phone. “We’ll come.”

They left a few minutes later. The drive was quiet. Lights were already on when they pulled up. James rang the bell. Stan opened the door. “Good. You’re on time.”

They stepped inside. Voices carried from the dining room. More than a few. James looked toward the sound. Then at Stan. Stan didn’t explain. Inside, the room was full. Deanna stopped just inside the room. Rachel looked up first. “There they are,” she said.

James glanced at Deanna. She let out a small breath. Not overwhelmed. Just… caught off guard. Emily came over, already moving. “You didn’t think we were going to let you sit at home,” she said. “I made too much food, so you’re helping.”

Deanna nodded. “Thank you.”

James took it in. Not casual. Intentional.

Inside, the room felt full. People from the wedding. Familiar. Intentional. Devon was already there. Of course he was. Emily handed him a drink. “You don’t have to stand by the wall.”

Devon looked around. “I’m mapping it.”

Stan didn’t look up. “It’s a house.”

Devon nodded. “Still useful to know the exits.”

Across the room, Rachel stood with Mark. “Mark,” James said.

Mark turned. “Hey.”

“We didn’t really get a chance to connect at the wedding.”

Mark smiled. “That was a busy day. Congratulations. He lifted his glass slightly. “To both of you.”

“What do you do?” James asked.

“Finance. Healthcare groups.”

James nodded. “On which side?”

Mark smiled faintly. “The side that thinks it understands how things work.”

“And does it?”

Mark took a sip. “Sometimes. Not usually.”

Nearby, Rachel looked at Deanna. “You made it back.”

Deanna nodded. “Yes.”

Rachel smiled. “That sounds like you.”

“You don’t have to come back this week,” Rachel said.

“I will.”

Emily set a plate down in front of her. “She will.”

Rachel nodded. That was enough.

Stan looked around the room. “I told everyone from the wedding to come.”

Emily didn’t look up. “They were coming anyway.”

Then the food hit the table. There was a pause—not emotional, but almost reverent.

“What is this?” Mark asked.

“Moqueca,” Emily said.

Mark nodded slowly. “That sounds impressive.”

Devon leaned slightly forward. “It smells expensive.”

Emily smiled. “It was worth it.”

Rachel took a bite. “Okay,” she said. “That’s not normal.”

Emily glanced at Deanna. “It’s her favorite,” she said.

“I had to track it down,” Emily said. “That was harder than it should have been.”

Stan didn’t look up. “You say that about everything.”

Emily smiled. “Not everything.”

Deanna looked at the plate. Then at Emily. “Thank you,” she said.

For a moment, everyone stayed with the food. Then-
“Daniel almost dropped the rings,” Rachel said.

“He did drop them,” Stan replied.

“He recovered,” Emily corrected.

“That wasn’t recovery,” Stan said.

Devon shook his head. “Partial recovery.”

Stan looked at him. “That was luck.”

Devon looked at him. “Structured luck.”

Sophie looked up. “I didn’t drop anything.”

“That’s because you took your job seriously,” Emily said.

“I always do.”

Devon glanced at James. “High standards.”

James nodded. “Clearly.”

More laughter. “You almost missed your cue,” Deanna said quietly.

James looked at her. “I didn’t miss it.”

“You were close.”

“I was precisely timed.”

She shook her head. “That’s not reassuring.”

“No,” he said. “But it worked.”

She held his gaze. “Yes. It did.”

A small moment. Then—

“Selah,” Sophie said. “What does that mean again?”

James looked at her. “A pause.”

“Like a break?”

“Not exactly,” Deanna said. “More like… something you don’t rush past.”

James glanced at her. She didn’t look at him right away. Then she did. Not the same. But not distant. He held her gaze just long enough. Then the room moved again.

Later, Devon handed James a plate. “Eat.”

“I’m not that hungry.”

Devon nodded. “Not relevant.”

Stan stepped beside James. “You ever hear Joe Pass live?”

James shook his head.

“He’s at The Baked Potato this week. Come with me.”

James nodded. “Yeah.”

“You need something that isn’t pathology,” Stan said.

As they were leaving, James said quietly, “Next time.”

Deanna looked at him. “We don’t assume anything.”

He nodded. “Next time.”

Outside, she reached for his hand—not automatically, but intentionally. 

The next morning, the cases were already there. The courier was running. The interface was holding. He wouldn’t have to be in two places anymore. That should have made things easier. He wasn’t sure it did. At home, things were quieter. Not broken—but not what they had been. Life didn’t stop. It adjusted.

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