Bianca had grown up around our family.

She had known every private, painful detail of what Samantha and I were going through, long before she ever smiled at me across a room in Vancouver.

“You showed my wife’s private medical records,” I said, “to Bianca.”

“I was worried about the family,” my mother said, defensive now.

“I wanted a second opinion.”

“And it never occurred to you to get that second opinion from an actual doctor?”