“I’m told you’ve been making yourself at home,” Dad says sternly from behind his big wooden desk.

I stand in the doorway to his office, my hand on the doorknob. “Dad, I’d love to chat, but I’m supposed to be here for an emergency. Dr. Grant told me to ask you where to go.”

I'm always rushing anyway because it's often a matter of life and death. But today I'm anxious to get my work done and go home because Jacqueline obviously needs me. The way she looked at me while I was driving away… It almost made me turn around and come home to her. But someone’s life could depend on me.

“This is exactly where you're supposed to be. Come in,” Dad says. “Close the door.”

I frown. It's not that we don't talk, but Dad has never taken me away from my work for a mere chat.

“What is it?” I ask as I take my seat across the desk from him.

Dad has put a lot of thought into how he wants to be perceived by his staff of smart, ambitious, hard-working medical professionals. He works out to stay in shape, he dresses sharp, and he always looks like he’s in control.

But he looks a lot older than he did when I left. It's only natural, of course. People age, and I was gone for a long time. Still, there are moments it surprises me to see him as an old man.

“I was happy to hear that you got yourself an apartment, so I didn’t say anything about your girlfriend,” he says.

I frown. “I thought there was no rule against dating co-workers in this hospital.”

“Sure, that’s not a problem, as long as you’re not dating a patient.”

“Okay.” I lean back in my chair. Maybe I’m not about to get some bad news after all. “So everything’s okay?”

“No,” he says.

I cross my arms over my chest. “What is it?”

“Don’t sound so alarmed. I’ve taken care of everything. I have the perfect solution.”

Don’t sound so alarmed, he says, while behaving in an exceedingly alarming fashion.

I remember the last time he said something like that. I ended up on a plane to Africa.

“Just tell me what it is, Dad.”

“Let’s start from the beginning. There’s no need to rush. Like I said, everything has been taken care of.” Dad leans all the way back, places his elbows on the armrests of his big leather chair, and gives me a confident smile. “You’ve been here for a month. You must’ve received some pay. I think you can agree that, even though the HMOs are making it harder and harder to make any real money, the money is much better here.”

“Compared to Africa?” I narrow my eyes at him. “Of course. I didn’t have to fly here and actually work here to know that.”

“Yes, but it’s different when you experience it yourself. So, you’re staying, right?”

“Yes,” I answer impatiently, although the money is not the reason I’m staying.

Dad stares blankly at the bookshelves behind me and lets out a sigh. “I remember when your friend died and his family blamed you. I sent you away to join the Peace Corps and lay low for a while, but you ended up choosing to stay there for eight years.”

“It’s not that bad over there, Dad. Some people do live there. Can you just tell me what’s going on?”

“I’m getting to it.” His wrinkles seem to have grown deeper. “I don’t want you to leave again. I’m an old man. I want my only child with me when I die.”

“I told you I’m staying. Can we stop the guilt trip and just get to the point?” I raise my voice in exasperation. I don’t have time for this. Jacqueline’s waiting for me. She needs me.

Sadness clouds his eyes—the same green eyes that I have. He says, “I don’t want to do this, but I have no choice.”

“What are you talking about?” I clench my hands into tight fists.

He said the same thing eight years ago. That line means he has made a decision that he knows he has no right to make.

“That girl. Your girlfriend. You can’t see her anymore,” he says.

I almost burst out laughing. What is this? Seventh grade? I knew I’d have to adjust to being around my parents, but I never imagined this level of intrusion into my personal life.

“Dad, you just said yourself I can date co-workers. You may not like her, but you can’t tell me who to date. If you want me to stay, you’re going to have to let me live my own life.”

“It’s not about her working here. You know that.” Dad furrows his brows in displeasure.

“I can’t just magically know the things you don’t tell me.”

“I know everything. Don’t try to hide it from me,” he insists, his voice growing louder.

I press my lips together. I know I can’t take back what I say, so I’ve trained myself to be quiet during conflicts so I can process things in my mind.

Could he be talking about the same thing Jacqueline wanted to tell me this morning?

And the timing… I’ve been seeing Jacqueline for weeks, and suddenly both my dad and she have things to reveal to me on the same day? It seems like too much of a coincidence.

Dad must’ve figured out something about Jacqueline—probably the same thing she wants to tell me. Judging by how strangely they’re both acting, it’s something serious. And they both believe it means Jacqueline and I can’t be together.

Somehow it has something to do with Sam, too.

And me leaving.

No way.

My heart jumps into my mouth.

But on some level, I’ve always had this feeling...

Fixing my gaze on Dad, I ask, “Is this about her being Sam’s sister?”