“I’m her…” I stopped.
Her what?
Ex-husband sounded too small.
The man who left her sounded too honest.
“I’m Ethan,” I said finally.
The nurse’s expression changed with recognition, but she didn’t say anything.
“I just want to know if she needs anything,” I added. “I know you can’t share information with me. I understand that. But if there’s something I can bring her, or someone I should call—”
The nurse looked past me toward Sophie’s room.
Then she lowered her voice.
“She hasn’t been eating much,” she said. “She likes peppermint tea. Not the cafeteria kind. There’s a shop two blocks over.”
It was such a small piece of information.
And yet it nearly undid me.
Peppermint tea.
Sophie drank it whenever she was anxious. She used to make it at night in our kitchen, wrapping both hands around the mug while steam curled against her face.
