But I had added one name after a twelve-hour shift in pediatrics, after treating a little boy who gave me a sticker because he said doctors needed bravery too.
Elliot.
I had forgotten that.
No.
I had tried to forget that.
Connor was watching me too closely.
He remembered.
Of course he remembered.
The realization moved through me with quiet horror.
“You chose that name,” I said to Melinda.
She shook her head slowly.
My eyes moved to Connor.
For once, he could not hold my gaze.
“You named him Elliot,” I whispered.
Connor’s silence was enough.
Melinda looked between us, confused. “What?”
I pushed back from the table. “That was my name.”
“Kirsten,” Kenneth said gently.
“No.” I stood because sitting suddenly felt impossible. “That was the name I wanted. Years ago.”
Melinda’s face folded in pain.
“I didn’t know,” she said.
I believed her.
That was the worst part.
