But there was always a limit.
A nurse came in.
My phone rang.
Noah needed something.
My mother wanted to talk.
I needed coffee.
I always found the exit.
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This time I pulled my chair closer.
Noah watched me.
"You don't have to do this by yourself anymore," I told him.
He frowned.
"I'm not."
"Yes, buddy. You are."
"I have to be here."
"No. You want to be here. That's different."
"What if she wakes up?"
"Then I'll be here."
"What if she talks?"
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"I'll listen."
"What if you have to go somewhere?"
"I won't."
He looked suspicious.
"Not even coffee?"
I laughed once, but my eyes were burning.
"Not even coffee."
Noah looked down at Emma.
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I squeezed her hand.
Then I said something I should have said weeks earlier.
"I've got her."
His chin trembled.
He tried to hide it.
