Joey looks like a little angel when he sleeps.

His cheeks pudgy and bloated from the medicine, his brown curls falling in his face, one would think he was just a normal child, if he didn’t have all those wires and tubes attached to him. He clutches his Spiderman doll to his chest and dozes, his nostrils flaring and chest rising and falling in breath. I stroke the pale skin of his forehead, thinking that maybe they seem a little less pale. Maybe the medication is working.

At noon, I give my little sleeping brother a kiss on the forehead and then take the elevator downstairs to cafeteria. I weave my way through the traffic of doctors, patients and visitors traversing the busy hallway, to see Talia’s smiling face. She waves at me.

“Hi!” I say, approaching her, exhaling in relief that I don’t have to put on the brave face I always sport in front of Joey anymore.

Talia is wearing her pale rose-colored hospital scrubs and comfy shoes, even though, as office administrator for a dermatologist across the street, she never even touches a patient. She has her kinky black hair up in a high ponytail on her head, and no make-up, her usual work look. If one saw her in the Suitors Club, they wouldn’t recognize her. She does that on purpose. She’d hate to have one of her clients walk in to get a mole removed and see her behind the desk.

We grab our trays and go inside, and I order the meatball sub special and Talia gets a packaged salad with dressing on the side. The food at the hospital is abysmal, but I’ve gotten used to it, since I eat most of my lunches here. When we pay for our lunches and sit down at a table by the window, overlooking the front of the hospital, Talia leans forward. “So?”

“So what?” I ask, batting my eyelashes innocently.

“Don’t give me that. Mr. Hot Stuff Winchester. Is he positively dreamy?”

I shrug. Yes, he’s beyond that. I find myself straying to his drunken text messages and fight the blush that’s starting to climb onto my cheeks. “He’s attractive.”

“And?”

“And what?” I say again, making her throw up her hands in desperation.

“Stop making me play twenty questions!” she says, dropping her fork. “Tell me everything.”

“Fine.” So I do. I tell her about the day I met him, where he was very stiff and intimidating. I tell her that since then, though, he’s loosened up. I tell her how he came to my house and met the kids, and actually has a family-side to him. Then I tell her about the kiss.

Her jaw drops. “So you were holding out on me!”

I smile.

“So was it amazing? He must kiss like a fucking greek god.”

I nod, though I have no idea how a greek god would kiss. Perfectly? Yes, it was pretty perfect. “It was pretty amazing,” I admit. “But he said it was a mistake. And since then, he hasn’t touched me.”

She pouts. “Boo.”

“Though he did send me a few dirty texts last night.”

Her mouth widens to an O. “What’s that?”

“He was drunk, though.”

She motions to me to hand over my phone. Reluctantly, I do. She scrolls through the messages, her jaw dropping further and further into her salad plate. Then she looks at me. “Do you realize what this means? Max Winchester has it bad for you!”

“No, he doesn’t,” I argue. “He was drunk.”

“What’s that saying? In wine there’s truth? It’s totally true! A man like him probably has a thousand women in his contacts list. But he chose you.” She’s getting so excited, her backside is on the edge of her chair, and I’m afraid she’s going to lunge at me. She looks at my phone again and waves a hand in front of her face. “Wow, these are some seriously hot texts.”

I shrug like it’s nothing, even though I’ve read them over again, at least twelve times this morning. Each time, I get this fluttery feeling deep in my abdomen, and goosebumps pop out all over my skin.

She hands the phone back to me and dips a wilted piece of lettuce into her ranch dressing. Then she blinks, grabs the phone back from me, and stares at the last message. “Wait. Is he coming here for lunch?”

“Well, I said I’d be here if he wants to stop by.”

“What!” She drops her fork and starts fluffing her ponytail, all the while scanning the cafeteria. Then she grabs her bag and starts riffling through it. “Nice to give me fair warning, girl.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” she says, pulling out a tube of burgundy lipstick and a mirror. “If I’m going to meet the Max Winchester, I’d prefer to do it while not looking like something you’d find in the gutter.”

She opens the compact and checks her reflection, then adds a little powder to her nose. Satisfied, she snaps the mirror closed and starts scanning the doorway again, as if she expects the President of the United States to come walking through.

“Come on. It’s not that big a deal.”

I’m trying to be nonchalant about it, even parked myself facing away from the entrance, just to show how little I care, but really . . . I’m excited. Nervous. I want to see him again. Even though, after what happened last night, I know I’ll take one look at him and blush like the virgin I am.

She holds up a hand. “Whatever. Freak.” That poor piece of lettuce has been on her fork for an eternity and seems destined to never make it to her mouth, because the second she brings it close, her eyes, still fastened on the door, widen, and she lowers her fork again. “Oh. My. God.”

I can’t look. I know from the way she licks her lips that Max, indeed, has just walked into the cafeteria. It feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room with his appearance, because I suddenly can’t breathe.

“That’s got to be him!” she blubbers like a love-struck schoolgirl. “He’s so . . . perfect!”

I turn in time to see Max, in his standard-issue three-piece suit, striding toward me. But though he’s gorgeous, with his hair slicked back, a small shard hanging over his brow, it’s not his looks I notice first, for once.

It’s the giant stuffed polar bear with the balloon that he’s holding.

As he walks confidently past the tables, every female eye in the place follows him, ovaries exploding everywhere. He just commands the room, like royalty.

“Hello,” he says in a low voice, stopping at our table.

When he’s close, I noticed that his eyes are rimmed darkly, and his skin is sallow, likely from the hangover. He’s not his usual perfection, but from the way Talia’s mouth is hanging open, tongue descending like a waterslide, it’s enough.

“Hi.” I point over to Talia, who’s batting her eyelashes at him. “That’s my friend Talia.”

He holds out a hand which she shakes, and they exchange polite pleasantries.

To avoid the awkward silence, I smile and point at the bear. “Who’s your friend?”

“For your brother Joey.” He looks down at the floppy stuffed animal. “Would you give this to him with my best wishes?”

“Do you want to come up and give it to him yourself?” I ask. “The doctors say he can have visitors now.”

He shakes his head. “No. You enjoy your lunch.” He points vaguely outside. “I should be . . .”

Just then, Talia pops up. “Oh! Look at the time!” She throws the container top on her uneaten salad and starts to gather her things. “I’m late to get back to work.”

I blink at her as she pushes her chair over to him. She has at least forty-five minutes before she has to report back.

“Sit, guys. Talk. I’ll see you around, Lil.” And without waiting for a goodbye, she takes off.

I turn to Max, who seems unsure whether to sit. Finally, he does, moving the teddy bear to the seat next to him. And wouldn’t you know it? I’m blushing, full-on red, my face hotter than ever.

I look down at my meatball sandwich. I’d taken one bite, but really, I’m not hungry anymore. “Do you want to go get something at the café? I’ll wait.”

He shakes his head. “Not hungry. Again,” he says, picking up the paper covering for my straw. He starts to shred it. “I’m sorry about last night, and if I caused you any embarrassment.”

I shake my head. “It’s okay. I understand,” I tell him. “Were things really bad at that meeting?”

He lets out a short, pained laugh. “Yeah. You could say that.”

“Why?”

He leans forward. As he does, I notice a couple women sitting at a table diagonally behind him, staring at him. When they notice me, they start to give me dirty looks. He murmurs, conspiratorially, “I don’t know if this is going to work after all. I get the feeling my father has already made his decision, and he just hasn’t told me yet.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Dan was already running the show. The board members were already acting like he was the one in charge,” he explains, looking out the window, into the cloud-filled sky. “I get the feeling everyone knows something I don’t.”

I sit up straight as he seems to slump. “Don’t give up, okay? Maybe you’re wrong. Maybe you’ll meet with him and everything will be fine. After all, you’re the one who knows the company best.”

He nods. “Yeah. You’re right.”

I push away from the table. “I probably should go upstairs. Joey should be waking up any time now. Do you want to come with me?”

I expect him to make an excuse, as most people do when faced with such a difficult and uncomfortable situation. Instead, he says, “Yeah. Lead the way.”

He takes my tray to the disposal, leaving me to pick up the teddy bear. The staring women continue to stare at him, at me, as if they can’t understand how we’re together. I guess I don’t look much like his fiancé at all, dressed in my Columbia sweatshirt and jeans.

Once we’re in the elevator, headed upstairs, I hand him the teddy bear, doing my best to avoid touching him, but even so, the tips of my fingers graze his warm wrist. “He’ll really appreciate this,” I say, staring at the numbers as they climb to the seventh floor, afraid to even look at him.

My phone dings with a text when we’re nearly at the floor. I lift it up and look at the message from Talia: Hell girl, attractive? He can make a snowman catch fire.

Then I pocket the phone to hide the display, hoping he hadn’t seen it. God, that would really suck if he sees it.

We take a path I’ve become so familiar with; it might as well be my own apartment. In the room, Joey is up, sitting at his table, coloring. I stare at him, tears pricking the corners of my eyes. They said that the medicine worked fast, but I had no idea how fast. A few days ago, he could barely sit up.

I linger outside the window, covering my mouth with my hand. Then I step away from the door so that Joey won’t see the tears in my eyes.

Max follows me. “Are you . . .”

I nod fiercely, smiling as I wipe the tears away with the back of my hand. “I just . . . he’s up. Coloring. He’s so much better than before. A week ago, it was . . .”

I can’t even bring myself to say how bad it was.

He rips the starched handkerchief from his breast pocket and hands it to me. I was certain these things were just for show, but apparently not, with Max. It’s silky and too fine as I dab the corner of my eyes with it. I simply will not use it on my nose, though I could probably use a good blowing. I sniffle, fold it into a square, and nod. “I’m good.”

We appear in the doorway and I knock. The second I do, Joey’s face, full of intent concentration, brightens to a wide smile I almost thought I’d never see again. “Lily!” he says.

I walk inside with Max behind me. “Hey there. How are you doing?”

He pushes a Spiderman drawing over to me. “Look at that.”

“Wow, that’s good,” I say, sitting on the edge of his bed and smoothing his hair away from his forehead. He feels cool, perfect.

His eyes trail over to the suited stranger, lingering in the door.

“Hey, buddy,” he says. “I’m Max. I brought you a friend.”

Joey doesn’t say anything as he usually goes mute around strangers, but I can tell from his adoring gaze that he’s delighted by the gift. Max plants it on the side of the bed, within his reach, and digs his hands into his pockets.

“Max just came by to see how you’re doing,” I explain. And he’s also responsible for saving your life.

Joey says, “I’m okay. I don’t really need any more shots though. The doctor said they’re gonna give me some.”

He pouts.

Just then, Dr. Campbell, the brusque jerk of a doctor I can’t stand, appears. Behind him, a nurse walks in, wheeling a cart. Fear coils inside my chest when I see Joey’s eyes widen. He starts to kick his legs, a nervous, fidgeting habit he’s always had. I want to lunge across and bar Dr. Campbell from the room. “Where is Dr. Ayers?” I ask frantically.

“Dr. Ayers left on vacation this morning,” the bald doctor mutters with no bedside manner whatsoever, watching the nurse prepare the shots. There are several of them, and if they look menacing to me, I can only imagine how they must look to an eight-year old. “She’ll be back next week.”

Next week?

“Okay,” I breathe, wondering how I can put this off any more. I dig my fingers into my palms so hard that it leaves red moons in the flesh. “But what is this for?”

“This is to keep the child’s white blood cell levels stable,” he says, not even looking at me.

There it is again. The child.

Joey flinches to the edge of the bed as the doctor grabs his arm. “Wait!” I shout.

Every body in the room freezes, and all eyes turn to me.

“First of all, he’s not the child. He’s Joey Brogan,” I say pointedly to the doctor, my voice flat.

The doctor straightens and a small, condescending smile appears on his face. “I realize that, but—“

“I don’t think you do,” Max suddenly speaks up. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t be grabbing him like he’s a piece of meat. He’s a kid, in case you didn’t realize, and you’re scaring him.”

The doctor straightens, looks at Max, then back at Joey’s fearful face. His grip on Joey’s arm loosens. He steps away, toward Max, and offers him a hand to shake, because I suppose in his three-piece suit, he’s the embodiment of importance. “I’m sorry. I’m Dr. Campbell. Who are you?”

Max doesn’t take his hand. He keeps his hands in his pockets and says, “I’m Max Winchester, and I would like another oncologist to take care of Joey from here on out.”

The doctor’s eyes widen. “I’m . . . well, that’s impossible. I’m the only one on duty right now.”

Max shakes his head smoothly. “I think it’s possible, especially considering the millions of dollars my family’s donated to this hospital last year.”

He swallows, looks away, backs down. “Well . . .I’ll have to run this by our chief of staff.”

“Fine. Do it now. I don’t care what you have to do,” he says, his eyes boring into the man as he speaks, low and controlled. He stands a full head taller than him, dwarfing him, and the power he exudes is almost overwhelming me, from across the room. “But Joey will get the best treatment possible; however you are not to touch him ever again. Do you hear me?”

Dr. Campbell nods. His face has turned pink; even the top of his bald head is blushing. He motions to the nurse. “Nurse, please see who on staff might be able to administer these shots.” He looks at me. “Don’t forget. Billing department would still like to see you about your outstanding bill.”

And then, without looking back, he leaves, his heels tapping on the tile floor.

When I can get my breath back, I look at Max, who is still scowling after him. “Thank you,” I whisper.

He reaches down to pick up a purple crayon that has rolled off of Joey’s table. He sets it down and says, “Any time. What outstanding bill?”

I shake my head. It turns out that the money he’d wired to me had only been able to take care of his first year of backed-up medical costs. The bills for this experimental treatment were beyond astronomical. Most of the doctors were good about them, but then there was Dr. Campbell. “Not a big deal. I might be able to work out some arrangement, they tell me.”

Meaning, probably, bankruptcy.

“Have them sent to me,” he says casually. As I stare at him dumbly, he says to Joey, “That’s a pretty good ghost you drew. Show me how you did that?”

“It’s the Haunted Mansion at Disney,” he explains. “Lily says that when I’m feeling better, we’re all going to go there.”

He leans forward, seeming completely interested in this little boy he’s only just met. “Oh, yeah? It’s cool. I’ve been there.”

An hour later, after Joey has showed Max every drawing trick in his repertoire, another oncologist shows up. She’s warm and sweet, and coaxes him into the shots sweetly and without much trouble. It’s not a pleasant experience, but it’s not too terrible, either.

Shortly, Max tells him he has to leave. I figure, considering that he’s been with me for more than two hours and he’s the person who keep Winchester Properties afloat, he probably had to leave about an hour and a half ago. He gives Joey a high-five, and Joey grins after him as we walk into the hallway.

“He’s a good kid,” Max says.

“I know.”

“Seriously, Lily. I’ll have my assistant get in touch with you to arrange to get those bills taken care of.”

It’s enough to draw tears from my eyes. He was only supposed to use me. I didn’t know he’d turn out to be my knight in shining armor. Who ever thought I’d meet a Prince Charming in a sex club?

“Thanks again,” I say to him when we’re near the elevators. “For that. For the bear. And for getting the new doctor. You don’t know how many problems I’ve had with Dr. Campbell.”

“If you ever have problems like that again,” he says, pressing the button for the lobby, “Call me. I’ll get on them. That doctor doesn’t belong in pediatric oncology. I’m not sure he belongs in medicine at all.”

I nod, smiling up at him. He looks at me, and in the silence that passes, memories of those texts messages, of that kiss creep in.

I’m going to blush again.

“Lily,” he murmurs softly. “I . . .”

He pauses. There’s something in his eyes that tells me what he has to say is going to have weight. It’s hard for him. I wait anxiously for his next words, but he merely presses his lips together and shakes his head. “Yes?” I prompt him.

“No. It’s nothing. Tomorrow afternoon, then?” he asks. “My limo will pick you up at four, if that’s agreeable to you. My father usually wakes from his nap and has dinner at five.”

I swallow. “Yes. I’m ready.”

I try to get up the courage to tell him what he means to me. I want to be able to explain to him that what he did for me and Joey wasn’t just amazing. No, so much of my life, since my parents died, was being kicked in the face. What he did, in fact, is the only nice thing that’s happened to me—to us— in years.

I open my mouth to say it, but then there’s a loud ding overhead, from the elevator, and the doors slide open.

He leans over and gives me a very chaste kiss on the cheek. But as chaste as it is, his stubble against my skin, his warm, sweet breath against me . . . it’s enough to make me think some not-very-innocent thoughts.

“Have a good night, Lily,” he says, before slipping through the elevator doors. He turns, and is giving me that intense gaze, with those ice-blue eyes, when the doors close, his lips still pressed in a straight line.

I find myself fanning my face as I wander back to Joey’s room. Hell. Talia is right. He probably could set snowmen on fire.