the back of her hand. ‘You look incredible, India.’
She couldn’t help laughing. ‘Don’t talk shit, Michael. I look like crap, thanks to you.’
He held out his hand and she paused for a second before sitting down on the edge of the bed, taking his hand, running her fingers over it.
‘I was scared, Michael. The thought of losing you…’
‘You’ll never lose me, India. That’s never gonna happen, baby.’
She looked at him, really looked at him. He was still so handsome, still carried that slightly quirky look that had made him who he was in Hollywood; he still had those eyes…
‘Dominic, he… he said he’d been in to see you.’
Michael squeezed her hand. ‘Yeah. He’s been in. He’s a good-looking kid, my grown-up son.’
‘What happened? I mean, you guys… Have you…?’
‘Have we what? Talked things over? Had a father/son heart-to-heart? Not quite. Not really the time, is it? But things like this… well; they seem to put things into some kind of perspective, don’t they?’ Michael looked right into her eyes. ‘Do you love him, India?’
She turned away for a second, still holding onto his hand. ‘I don’t know.’ She looked at him again, taking in every tired inch of a face she’d loved more than she’d ever cared to admit. Did she still love him now? Maybe she’d never really stopped, maybe she never really would. Maybe she was always destined to love this man and it was just something she was going to have to deal with for the rest of her life.
‘Because he sure as hell loves you.’
‘Michael…’
He reached out to touch her face, stroking it gently, making her cry again, silent tears that just kept coming, faster than he could wipe them away.
‘How do we always end up here, Michael? How do we always end up in this ridiculous, emotional wreckage of a relationship? It’s so bloody exhausting.’
‘I will always – always – love you, India. You know that, don’t you?’
She nodded, turning sharply as the door opened and Layla walked back in. She looked tired and upset, her pretty face devoid of any make-up, her arms folded against her in an almost defensive manner. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt she looked so young and frightened – she looked like a woman who’d feared she might lose the man she loved with all of her heart. And India knew exactly how she felt.
Letting go of Michael’s hand India got up off the bed, smiling at him, wiping away the last of her tears with the back of her hand. ‘I’ll see you later, okay?’
‘You don’t have to go,’ he said, looking over at Layla who just stood in the doorway, watching them.
‘Yeah. I think I do, Michael. You and Layla, you need some time.’
‘India…’
‘Later,’ she smiled again, if only to hide the sudden, unexpected pain she felt as she started to walk away from him.
Layla watched her every movement, waiting until she was right beside her and as she turned to speak her voice was quiet, but determined. ‘Leave him alone, India. Please. Leave him alone, and let me take over. You’ve had him for far too long and I… I need to start feeling as though he can really be mine. Do you understand that?’
India nodded, saying nothing. What could she say? She gave Layla’s hand a quick squeeze before walking back out into the corridor, hoping that would let Layla know that she was stepping back now. Even though it hurt, and India hadn’t expected it to hurt. Not quite so much.
‘Everything alright?’ Reece asked as soon as she emerged from the room, but India ignored him, walking straight past him.
‘India!’ Kenny said, jumping up and running after her.
‘I just need some time, okay?’ She turned to look at Kenny. ‘Please. I just need some time.’
‘Are you gonna be alright?’
‘I’m forty-three-years-old, Kenny. I’m not a child. I’ll be fine. Today’s just been a shock, that’s all.’
India, look… your dad…’
‘Like I said, Kenny. I just need some time.’
She wandered outside to a private courtyard within the hospital grounds. Although, it was hard to call it private when it was surrounded by security, but they were very necessary, under the circumstances. She knew the press and paparazzi were swarming around outside, trying to get news of Michael’s condition, trying to get anything they could from anyone they could, be that a quote or a picture, anything that would fill that front page or headline the showbiz news. So for once she was pleased that security were hanging