It was ten thirty when Jack walked into the hospital coffee shop. He had been awake for the past four hours, but he had stayed in his hotel room finishing up his reading on autoimmune diseases and chimerism. His mind was so consumed with other things, he hadn’t even given any thought to the information he had shared with the FBI about the phone call he’d received from Vosky posing as a physician and the meeting he was supposed to attend.
There was only one person in line in front of him who seemed to take forever deciding what she wanted. Finally, Jack was able to order two cappuccinos. He picked them up at the end of the counter and carried them out to the lobby. When he saw Mike approaching, he did everything in his power to push an encouraging smile to his face.
“How are you feeling?” he asked him, handing him one of the containers.
“Scared,” he answered directly. “If anybody had asked me a few weeks ago if I would ever be in a position to second-guess my—”
“What happened to Tess is nobody’s fault and—”
“That’s not what I meant. I was the one who encouraged Helen Morales to invite you here.” Mike’s face flushed. “I’ve made a decision that could result in the death of my wife and unborn baby. That’s hardly an easy thing to do. Going with Sinclair’s advice over yours was the toughest choice I’ve ever made in my life. But whatever happens, don’t ever think, even for a second, that I don’t know you did everything possible to help Tess.”
Jack took a couple of sips of his cappuccino before responding, “I can’t begin to imagine what you’ve been going through. There’s an awful lot I don’t know, but what I do know is that you’re got a lot more important things to concern yourself with than my feelings.” Mike opened his mouth to speak but Jack raised his hand. “We’re both way past owing each other explanations or apologies for anything.” He pointed toward the elevators. “C’mon, let’s go upstairs.”