“I don’t think she’d agree with you right now. Anyway, I thought you should know what was what. I should let you go. Have a good night, Miller.”
“Hey, Lily.” I catch her before she hangs up.
“Yeah?”
“I don’t know what’s going on with you and Randy, if anything, but he’s been laying low since we got home from Muskoka, and that’s not like him. Just figured you should know. Talk to you later.”
I let her go before she can answer or ask me more questions. I’m not one for interfering, but in this case, maybe a nudge in one direction or the other isn’t a bad thing.***The next morning I’m up early for my flight to Toronto. I’m actually looking forward to the publicity shit. Violet and Amber leave me a million messages apiece, clogging up my phone. It’s all coming from a good place, so it’s not as much of an irritation as it could be.
Michael’s in good form when I get to his place, where we’re doing the filming. He’s nervous, but excited. We get through the promo shoot and the interview BS with hardly any issues, apart from when they insist I wear makeup to cover the bruises from Waters. They’ve faded to a light yellow-green under my eyes and across the bridge of my nose, but that won’t be attractive on camera. It’s a pain in the ass to sit through all the powder and crap, but Michael thinks it’s hilarious, so I don’t put up much of a stink.
I’ve memorized almost everything, and the few things I haven’t I wing, which works out well according to the chick who’s directing the thing. Michael’s a natural in front of the camera, and the nerves disappear as soon as they start asking him about the camp, his outlook on treatment, and what he wants for his future.
His answer is simple and poignant; he wants to survive, so he can grow up and be like me.
He makes the interviewer cry. I may or may not have to blink a lot after that. From a promotional and media standpoint, it’s gold. If it means we can help his family stay out of financial trouble, then it’s worth it for me, too. It’s a great start to the day, but there’s a gray cloud hanging over Michael’s head, because we both know the afternoon’s chemo treatment isn’t going to be fun.
I want to be a distraction for him. I’d stay the night, but then he’d want to hang out instead of get the rest he needs. Plus I have meetings all day tomorrow and a workout I shouldn’t miss. I don’t particularly like hospitals, since most of my memories of my mom happen to be based there, but I’m willing to deal with that for Michael.
He and I play cards while he’s hooked up to all the IV garbage. We’re on our sixth game of crazy eights, which I apparently suck balls at since I’ve lost five times so far, when there’s a knock on the door to his room.
Another kid I recognize from camp peeks his head in.
“Hey, Brett!” Michael’s eyes light up.
I can’t figure out why that name is so familiar until Lily comes in behind him, followed by Sunny.
Brett and Michael fist bump, and Michael gives Lily a huge, long hug. I don’t know much about what’s going on, but it feels like a setup.
“Michael, this is my best friend, Sunshine.”
“Oh, hey!” His eyes go wide, darting to me and back to her.
Sunny smiles and returns the greeting, then her gaze shifts to me, and she gives me a shy wave, which I return.
She looks tired, like she’s not been sleeping all that great, and she’s maybe a tiny bit thinner, but she’s beautiful. I definitely still have a whole shitton of feelings for her based on the way my heart is jumping around in my chest, looking for a way to get out.
Michael looks from me to her and back again. “Your name is Sunshine?”
“Mm-hmm.” She nods, still smiling. She grips the strap of her purse, her fingers climbing higher until they reach the ends of her hair.
He tilts his head. “Is she the reason for Project Sunshine?”
“Uh . . .” I rub the back of my neck, not expecting to be called out. “Sunny’s who it’s named after. But you’re the reason for the fundraiser.”
“Cool.” He nods like he gets it. “You must be super important to Miller.”
There’s some awkward laughter.
Lily breaks the tension when she asks, “Michael, do you want something to drink? Maybe a ginger ale?”
“That’d be great.”
She looks at me.
“I’m good.”
“Are you sure?” Her eyes dart to Sunny, then back to me.
It takes me a second to get what she’s trying to do. I slap my thighs and stand up. “Actually, I’m kinda thirsty, too. Brett, you wanna take over my hand? Michael’s kicking my ass, here—I mean, my butt.”