But as a stream of tears burns my cheeks, I know I managed to let James in it. Or maybe he pulled me out of it, making the reality seem like a dream instead. I'm not sure. It doesn't matter right now. All that matters are his arms are around me, his comforting whispers in my ear.
They are real.
I spend the next two days running from Starbucks to Jess's room and back. Jess is, as I predicted, in the crankiest mood ever. She insisted on the nurse taking off the bandage on her cheek so she could inspect her wound. She became even crankier afterward.
Her mum is doing remarkably well, taking regular naps on the couch in Jess's room. I tried it too, but my back hurts so badly when I lie on it, I've given up on sleeping altogether. Her dad comes to visit in the evening, after he gets off from work.
James hasn't left my side at all, and is now chanting apology after apology because he has to leave for a meeting with investors he absolutely can't postpone.
"I'll be back in four hours at the latest," he says.
"I'll be fine. Please go home and sleep after your meeting is over James. I can take care of myself."
"Not a chance."
He leans in and brushes my lips in what was supposed to be a quick kiss. But it transforms, as every kiss did in the past two days, into a deep, longing one.
"Hurry," I say when we break off. "You won't impress any investor if you don't have time to shower before showing up at the meeting."
"You could use a shower yourself," he jokes, but I immediately feel uncomfortable. I've been wearing the clothes Dani brought me from the apartment for two days.
He cups my face in his palms and kisses my forehead once before disappearing in an elevator.
The other elevator doors open a few seconds later. At first I think it's empty, then a tiny figure skids out of it. Barefoot, the blue hospital gown far too large for her small body, she's clutching her storybook against her chest. Six year old Maya, one of the little girls I volunteer for.
"Maya, what are you doing here?" I say and take her in my arms not wanting her to get sick from wandering without shoes on the cold floors. I immediately take her to the chairs and slump in one of them, rubbing my back.
"I heard nurse Mary say that you were here," she says, putting her tiny arms around my neck. "Why didn't you come to see me? Are you mad at me because I put cake in your hair at the party?"
I cannot help a smile. "I'm not mad at you at all. I had to take care of other things but I was going to come see you."
"Are you sick?" she says with a frown.
"A friend of mine is."
"Don't be sad. Look, this will make you happy." She clutches her book around her chest. “Will you read me a story?" she asks, looking at me with wide, hopeful eyes.
"Let's go upstairs and I'll read to all of you."
She doesn't answer right away, and I understand the conflict that is going on inside her. There are two sides to Maya. One that allows her to share all the candies she receives from her parents with all the other girls in her ward, and the other side that wants things—usually my attention—only for herself.
"Can we stay here?" she asks in a small, small voice. "Just for one story?"
I pretend to be thinking hard. "Does anyone know you are here?"
"No," she says. "But I don't think they'll notice. I left immediately after nurse Mary left and she won't come for another hour."
I eye her closely. "Just one story."
She opens the book to her favorite story: Cinderella. I must have read it to her at least fifteen times. She leans her head against my chest and I start reading in a loud voice, because the waiting room is empty.
I realize Maya has fallen asleep when I finish the story.
"You should be a professional storyteller."
I raise my head so fast my neck snaps painfully.
"Parker," I blurt. I haven't seen him since I first arrived at the hospital, since he's been busy taking all of James's meetings. His black eye is almost healed. So is his lip. "How long have you been standing here?"