I can’t believe she’s here.
“It’s okay, Nora,” I say. “You can leave us. And take the rest of the day off.”
“But what if you need help with?—”
“I’m here now,” Pia says, firm and final.
“Okay, well, you have my number,” Nora says, and then I hear the door click closed. My next breath comes a little easier than the last.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper.
“Pardon?” Pia shuffles closer.
“Shit, sorry,” I say, raising my voice. “I can’t believe you’re here. You shouldn’t be here. You have more dates in Europe.”
“Fuck Europe,” Pia says, and I find myself laughing, but that hurts my head, so I stop.
“What do you need?” She picks up one of the orange pill tubes from my bedside table.
“What time is it?”
“Just gone seven in the evening,” she replies.
“Okay, I need more painkillers. Codeine.”
“How many?” Pia has already found the right tube and is unscrewing the top.
“Just one,” I say, sitting up slowly.
“Let me get you some fresh water.” Pia stands and walks to my ensuite bathroom like she’s been here before, like she belongs here. She returns with a glass of water and hands it to me before taking her place again on the bed next to me.
After watching me swallow the pill, she takes the glass and puts it down.
For a long moment, we just look at each other. I still can’t believe she’s here. I am so happy about this fact, I want to grab her, hold her, keep her here. But I daren’t.
“What are you doing here?” I repeat, loud enough for her to hear.
“Looking after you,” she says, and she punches the pillows behind me. I assume to plump it up, although it looks a lot like tough love from where I’m sitting.
“Pia, you’re not supposed to be here,” I say, letting the grim truth into my thoughts finally.
“And neither should you be,” she says, and she presses gently on my shoulders, pushing me back so I’m reclined on the pillows she just assaulted. “Just wait until I get my hands on that fucker. I hope Stephan Greene has a funeral plan in place already.”
“No, Pia.” I reach for her hand. “It wasn’t his fault.”
Her thin stare tells me she doesn’t believe me.
“Not exactly, anyway,” I say with a sigh. “He was drunk. Or high. Or both. I tripped and fell. He didn’t hit me. And I shouldn’t have gone to his hotel room in the first place. I should have stayed away. But I thought he was in real trouble?—”
“Heisin real trouble.”
“Pia.” I squeeze her fingers. “Please. Don’t waste your energy on him. I don’t want to talk about him, about what happened. I just want to be with you. I’m … I’m so happy you’re here.”
Pia’s throat works as she swallows. “I’m happy to be here too.”
“What did you tell Martin? He must be so pissed off.”
“Oh, you have no idea,” Pia says with a crafty smile that reminds me so much of the Pia I thought I knew before … before I really got to know her. I liked that Pia, I realise now. Even with all her bravado, all her cursing, all her middle fingers, I liked her back then. But now…