“Dr. Philippa Nguyen studied under that physician at Hopkins—the one leading that team. And she’s got her own project going on at UCLA. Her program is fully funded for another seven years at least.”

Emilia’s face grew serious as she digested this. Perhaps she wouldn’t have anything to rebut against that. “You’ve been doing some research, I see.”

I shrugged with one shoulder. “I assumed you already knew that. And I like to have all the facts. Dr. Nguyen’s team seems comparable to the team at Hopkins. And the two are coordinating their research and studies with each other.”

Emilia’s eyes dropped to the table in front of my casually folded hands. I tried to break the tension of her sudden silence by grabbing my bottle and taking a sip of beer.

“You want me to go to UCLA.”

I opened my mouth ready to answer that without another thought, but closed it just as quickly. Careful, Drake. This might be an ambush. I had a tiny image in the back of my brain of Admiral Ackbar, the fish-like commander from Return of the Jedi, yelling, “It’s a trap! It’s a trap!” So I took a deep breath and considered how to best—and carefully—answer that question.

“It would be easier for us if you could stay.”

She blinked. “If I went there, I’d have to live in Los Angeles. UCLA is in Westwood and that’s a ridiculous commute from here.”

I looked down, fiddling with the table pretending to think that through—as if I hadn’t considered every possible objection from her and prepared for each and every one already. I had to make this sound casual, off the cuff. All warfare is based on deception. I had no wish to deceive her. But I had no wish to give her cause to be angry. The less premeditated this appeared, the less she would think I was manipulating her.

“Well, I could have a driver take you. You could use the commute time to study. On top of that, if you lived here, you wouldn’t have to worry about other things like housekeeping tasks, laundry, cooking. All of that is taken care of, whereas if you lived in Maryland—”

“You could live with me there,” she said.

Yeah, I was prepared for that answer, too. I tilted my head, trying to appear as if considering how to answer that. “I could. Under normal circumstances, I could attempt to run the company from there and fly out monthly to spend a week or two here.” Was she adding this up yet? More time away from each other if she left. Even if I went with her.

“But…I’m not sure how this case is going to progress. If it goes to suit, I will be dealing with that and I can’t leave.” That wasn’t entirely true, though, and I knew it. Maybe I could make that work, but it just didn’t make sense to me when she could attend a school just as good out here.

Her eyes dropped and she considered her thumbs, which traveled in quick, jerky circles around each other. She was silent for a long moment, so I took another long pull of beer to let her think. Without looking up, she took a deep breath and spoke in a quiet, but unwavering voice. “When I first started my premed program, I had no idea what my specialty would be. I’ve known since the seventh grade that I would be a doctor. I didn’t care what kind of doctor. I just wanted to help people. To be a healer.”

I licked my bottom lip, not liking the firm tone of her voice as it grew in certainty.

Then she looked up and captured my eyes with hers, and they were luminescent. I couldn’t look away. They glistened with some inner fire, a passion. “But when my mom got sick—and God, she got so sick—she almost died and she was my everything. I—” Her voice trembled. She shook her head and looked away, swallowing. “I vowed that I was going to do whatever it took—that I’d fight it in the only way I knew I could. I promised Mom that if she kicked cancer’s ass, then I would, too. I’d go to the best school. I’d learn from the best and I’d never give up. And when I failed that goddamn test I thought that dream was out the window.”

I was barely breathing at this point, simultaneously rapt by the passion in her recitation and terrified by it. This decision wouldn’t be based on just facts and cold hard rationality—things well within my comfort zone. She was emotionally attached to this decision. I was fucked. I went cold inside. Because how could I fight this?

I swallowed. “Have you even looked into the possibility of UCLA?”

She clenched her jaw and hesitated, looking down. “I applied. But I could be rejected, just like with Davis.”

“You weren’t rejected. You’re in.”