Well, I could, but Adam said it wouldn’t be right. So we made a good show of it. Sat beside her bed and held her hand and talked to her. Or I presume that’s what Adam did. I got coffees. When I came back, he was standing there, looking down at the comatose woman, and he looked . . . sad. Sympathetic. I stood outside the door and watched him for a moment, and wondered if that was how I was supposed to feel, too. With Paige and Lucas, it’s easy to roll my eyes at their empathy overflow. No one can be expected to feel as much for strangers as they do. My bellwether is Adam. I pushed open the door. “You okay?” I said as I handed him his mocha. He shrugged. “Sure. Just thinking about their house. All those hobbies.” A small laugh. “Boring as hell, but they obviously liked them, and they just seemed . . .” “Happy. Small, boring, happy lives.” I paused. “It’s the last part that counts, though.” “Yep. It is.” He sipped his drink. “Just feel bad for them, you know?”
