Charlie watched Linsy’s profile, pale against the stark white pillow, and let out a sigh that was equal parts affection and exasperation. She pulled her chair closer, the legs scraping softly against the linoleum.

“Okay, let’s cut through the noble martyr act,” Charlie began, her voice softer than her words. “You’re sitting here, emotionally concussed, holding the pieces of a marriage that was basically a corporate merger with bad bedside manner, and you’re worried about being a ...