Angela doubled over and threw up on the sidewalk. Her eyes watered and her throat burned. It was 2 am and she was on her way to the pharmacy. She'd been sick as a dog for the last two days. Food poisoning. Tainted oysters from Dante's Inferno. She regretted walking the four blocks back to the scene of the crime, but the nearest 24-hour pharmacy was located right beside the hotel where the bar was. She should have just taken a cab. Her head was pounding and she was struggling to walk in a straight line.

Rickie had called her a few times to check up on her and had kept nagging her to go see a doctor but Angela didn't see the point. She just needed some Advil, Gravol and Gatorade because she knew from Google that her electrolytes must be out of whack plus she was probably dehydrated. She rounded the corner and sighed with relief as the flashing beacon of the 24-hour neon sign came into view. A wave of nausea overcame her just as she reached the entrance. She pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the storefront, took a couple of deep breaths and entered.

Jordan opened his eyes, sighed heavily, and stared at the ceiling. It was 2 am. He'd been trying to sleep for the past two hours but kept tossing and turning in his bed. He'd been out of his sleeping pills for two days now but was trying to do without them. His cell phone buzzed on the nightstand. He rubbed his bleary eyes as he read the text from Shane.

The record label wants to meet on Tuesday to go over the album and tour. They want you there. Says it's non-negotiable.

Jordan rolled his eyes and huffed a breath out. Great, now he had to go to L.A. next week. He sat up and scrubbed a hand over his face. Fuck it. He had an interview early the next morning and a few meetings later in the afternoon and really needed to get some sleep. He threw some clothes on, grabbed his wallet and prescription, and headed out the door. There was a 24-hour pharmacy right beside the hotel.

Angela accepted the paper bag from the clerk and made her way gingerly to the exit. She was almost there when the shop started spinning, she grabbed blindly for a shelf to stop from falling. Black dots permeated her vision. Home felt so far away. She bumped into what seemed like a brick wall and nearly dropped her bag.

"Hey sorry. Are you ok?" a concerned male voice asked.

"Oh sor—" She raised her eyes and her mouth gaped open at the face swimming in front of her. It can't be. Her eyes widened. "J-Jordan?"

"Angela?!"

The world spun again and he caught her before she hit the ground.

"What the fuck? Are you ok?"

She opened her mouth to speak. To explain about the food poisoning and that she needed to go home but all that came out was, "Bad…oysters."

Jordan pressed his palm to her forehead. "You're all clammy. And you're really pale. I think you need to lie down. How far away is your place?"

"Four blocks." Her stomach retched as she spoke.

"That's too far. You're not gonna make it there. I'm staying right next door…"

Angela shook her head and feebly pushed away from him. Jordan let go of her but soon as he did, she swayed again and nearly fell. He held her steady.

Angela groaned and pressed a hand to her temple. This cannot be happening.

"Look at you. You can barely stand. C'mon let's go," Jordan said firmly.

She nodded weakly, unable to protest any longer. The world started to do this blinking thing. One moment she was there being helped out of the pharmacy the next… Blink: his arm around her waist. Blink: her head pressed against his chest in the elevator. Blink: her feet stumbling along a corridor.

Out of all the possible ways she could have run into him she'd never in a million years thought it would be like this. It all felt so surreal. As if she was in a dream. She'd had this dream before only without the food poisoning and vomit.

Angela passed out as they got to his room. Jordan shoved his room key between his teeth and picked her up. "Angela?" he said, kicking the door shut behind them and spitting the key on the floor. "Ange? Wake up." He placed her on the bed and shook her. "Angela?" She was out cold. Fuck.

Shit! Shit! Ok, Catalano, breathe! Think! He removed her coat and checked her pulse: it was strong and she was breathing. Jordan called his private doctor and filled him in on the situation. The doctor was at the hotel within fifteen minutes. The wait was the longest fifteen minutes of Jordan's life.

"So, what's wrong with her?" Jordan chewed his thumb, his eyes darting between Angela and the doctor.

"Well, she's severely dehydrated, her blood pressure is low, her blood sugar is low, and she most likely has an electrolyte imbalance. Food poisoning can do that to you. I'll start an IV in her and give her some fluids. That will help with the dehydration and low blood pressure, and I'll give her something to bring her sugar back up to normal. She's most likely been nauseous and vomiting a lot so I'll give her something for that too. No fever though and her heart rate is regular and normal — so that's good."

Jordan nodded. "But she's gonna be ok right?"

The doctor smiled. "Don't worry, son, your girlfriend's gonna be fine. But she needs to rest and make sure she drinks a lot of fluids. But not too much and not too quickly. And she should eat something if she can: crackers, toast, nothing with dairy and nothing fatty. But all a little at a time otherwise she might throw it all up again."

"Oh, um, she's not…uh…never mind. Yeah, I'll make sure she does that." Jordan rubbed his brow and sighed in relief.

After he was done with his treatment the doctor checked Angela's blood pressure and blood sugar and once satisfied, he removed her IV. He gave Jordan a few more instructions before leaving.

Though the doctor had said she was gonna be fine Jordan stayed in the armchair in the bedroom. He watched her. She was sound asleep, her breathing deep and even. Her colour was better now but she still looked so pale and fragile. He couldn't believe she was actually here. He'd thought about this moment for so long and now that it was happening it didn't feel real. Maybe he'd never gotten out of bed. Maybe he'd actually fallen asleep and was still there now. He bit the inside of his cheek to prove he wasn't dreaming.

Sleep wasn't something he could hope for now. Instead of his pills, he'd left that pharmacy with his arms full of Angela Chase and despite the dull ache behind his eyes, he was more awake than before.

Jesus Christ, it was really her. Part of him just wanted to crawl into bed and pull her against him. But he didn't. He couldn't. Because there was another part of him that needed to know why she'd left him. And that part was angry. Plus, she'd probably freak out. So he stayed on the chair and typed a text out to his agent.

Angela woke to the muffled sounds of a conversation. Well, half a conversation. Someone was on the phone. The voice had drifted into her brain as she'd lain in that paralyzed yet lucid state between dreaming and waking. Now it was poking her —an insistent stab in her temple. No, she groaned and rolled over, that was just the pounding of her head. Her mouth tasted like the underside of an old boot and she was desperately thirsty. Then she remembered: oysters. Why had she even ordered them? Treacherous little sea creatures. Argh, just the thought made her stomach roll.

She tried to open her eyes, but they felt like they were glued shut. She rubbed at her face and blinked them apart. The room was still dark. The red glow of the bedside clock told her it was just after six. When had she left her apartment? And…where was she?

"It's just not gonna work, alright?"

There was that voice again. This time she knew it immediately, the rough edges of it and lazy vowels — even when he was ticked off. Jordan. The long walk to the pharmacy and everything else came rushing back and she thought she might be sick again.

She was in his hotel room.

He was here.

She pushed back the covers and tested her feet on the floor. Her head spun as she stood but she managed to get her balance under her. She rubbed her arms, pulled her hair behind her ears, and tried to slow the mad beat of her heart.

His voice grew louder as she approached the bedroom door. "Listen, something came up. I can't make it. So just reschedule it or something, alright? I gotta go."

She swallowed and slowly slid the door open a crack. He was in the next room, collapsed in an armchair, tapping his cellphone against his cheek. The blue light of the television flickered off his face.

It was too much. Suddenly she felt like she was fifteen again, mud on her dress, delirious just to be in the same room as him. Only now she was dreading it.

She knew she should've told him about Jay. Should've told him as soon as she'd found out she was pregnant. It was just a phone call, an email, a text message even. She just hadn't been able to do it. It hurt too much. The wound of their relationship was still fresh and bleeding. Then Jay was born and the not telling him just got louder and longer and it was never the right time.

Now that wound had scabbed and healed and was nothing but scar tissue on her heart. But it was still not the right time.

Jordan looked up as she walked in.

"Hey," he said, getting up, "you're awake." He moved like he was gonna help her then stopped. "Um." He pulled his hand through his hair. His hair was shorter than the last time she'd seen him but still skimmed his jawline. Though he looked tired, he was even more beautiful than she remembered. So much of Jordan was in Jay. There was no mistaking it. No denying it. She swallowed and looked away from him. "Here," he gestured to the chair he'd been sitting in, "sit down."

Angela sat.

"Jordan," she said. His name felt so strange in her mouth. It had probably been years since she'd said it out loud. She'd avoided any mention or news of him since she'd left him. Refused talking about him. Changed radio stations and TV channels if he were on them. But now he was right here in front of her and there was no changing the channel.

"Can I get you anything? Water? Toast?" He fidgeted with his hands then shoved them in the pocket of his hoodie. "I hope you don't mind but I called my doctor. I kinda freaked when you passed out. He gave you an IV and made sure you were OK. Anyway," he shrugged, "he said you should eat something if you could."

"Um." Angela's mind reeled and she scratched at the plaster on the back of her hand. A sore spot where the drip had gone in. "Water, please."

"Right. Yes." He crossed the room to the minibar and pulled out a bottle of water. He watched as she gulped it down.

"Thanks," she said when she finished. "For the water and for all," she looked around at the hotel room, "of this."

"Well," he shrugged, tried to play it cool, "what else do you do when your ex-girlfriend passes out in your arms?"

"Guess leaving me on the street was out of the question."

"Totally. I mean, there's a whole code you gotta go by, you know?" His mind spun. What the fuck was he even talking about?

She smiled. "A code?"

"Uh, yeah, must offer assistance in times of sickness. That kind of stuff. I saw you in the bar the other night, didn't I?" He'd known it the instant he'd seen her. "That Inferno place downstairs."

Angela sat back in the chair. She thought about saying, I saw you too, but instead she said, "Don't order the oysters."

"Huh," he smiled and perched on the arm of the sofa, "noted. So, Ange—" he started as she said, "Were you cancelling something because of me?" He blinked for a second, caught off guard and must've looked it too because she clarified, "I heard you on the phone when I woke up."

"Oh, yeah, um. It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"You didn't need to do that." Angela rubbed her forehead. "I'm gonna…I should probably go home."

"Four blocks," he muttered. He'd booked a hotel four blocks from her place.

"What?" She glanced up at him.

"You should eat something," he said. "I'm gonna call down for some toast and crackers or something." He got up and found the phone before she could protest. He felt nervous and hovering like how his nonna used to wring her hands whenever he'd visit with his father. It's not like he could stop her from leaving. He just needed her not to though…not yet. He needed her where he could see her. He needed to know that she was really ok. She stayed where she was though as he spoke to room service. All slumped in that chair like she couldn't move even if she wanted to. And, God, if she still wasn't the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid eyes on.

Her long blonde hair cascading in curtains around her face, those pretty green eyes that could level him with one look, and her small hands tucked into the sleeves of her blue flannel shirt…and…was that—? His heart constricted in his chest.

"Nice shirt," he said, sitting back across from her.

Angela looked down at the blue and white flannel she was wearing. Her eyes widened as realization set in. "You gave this to me," she said defensively.

Jordan raised his eyebrows. "More like loaned it to you."

He didn't actually remember if that was true. He did remember her getting out of bed one morning and putting it on. He remembered the way it had draped against her creamy bare skin. She'd been all cleavage and long legs and he'd silently vowed she could have free rein over his wardrobe. The fact that she still wore it after everything. After she'd fucking broken him.

He sucked in a breath and looked away from her.

"You want it back then?"

Jordan shook his head. "Nah, keep it." He eyed her; his expression unreadable.

Angela cleared her throat. "I can't believe I fainted on you. Sorry for ruining your night."

"You didn't."

His blue eyes held hers and Angela was the first to look away. There was a sour feeling building in her chest she knew had nothing to do with the oysters. After all these years she still needed to know. How could he have done what he did and then lied to her? This person who always claimed honesty above everything else. Who always acted like what you see is what you get. She had trusted him with every ounce of her being. She had trusted him with her heart. Had she even really known him at all?

She opened her mouth hoping one of the questions circling in her brain would come out when Jordan's phone rang. He scowled at the screen.

"Sorry," he said, sighing, "I have to take this."

"Of course," she said as he headed back into the bedroom. Oh, God. What had she just been about to do? She got up and found her purse on the coffee table. If she started asking questions, then she'd be the one left owing him an explanation. She was not ready to talk about Jay. Not like this. Not now.

She checked her phone. She had a missed call from Brian and a text from Rickie.

Call Brian. I told him you were sick and he's worried.

Angela threw her coat and shoes on. "Um, I'm gonna go. Thanks for everything," she called out before shutting the door behind her.

Jordan hung up on his agent and raked his hands through his hair. He still couldn't believe she was actually here. There was thinking about her, which he did, like, constantly and then there was seeing her. The reality was so much more complicated than he'd anticipated. He didn't know what to do with the part of himself that wanted to yell at her and the part that wanted to push her up against the wall and kiss her until she forgot her own name.

He heard her call out to him. Something about her going and then the door shut. What the fuck? He threw open the bedroom door. She was gone. "Shit!" God, she was fucken impossible. He grabbed his cell phone and wallet and ran out the door.

Angela squinted as the low morning sun hit her eyes. She leaned against the side of the entrance trying to catch her breath from practically running down ten flights of stairs. As the crisp cool fall air filled her lungs, she pushed off the building and started walking. She hadn't even made it half way down the street before she heard Jordan call out her name. She froze. Before she could turn Jordan had reached her and spun her around.

"Jesus, Angela. Couldn't you have waited like two minutes?"

"Why? I really appreciate everything you've done but I told you I needed to get home."

"Because!" Jordan exclaimed. Angela's eyes widened and a couple of people eyed them. Jordan exhaled loudly and chewed his thumb before meeting her eyes. "Because I want to make sure you're ok. At least let me take you home so I know that you made it there safe," he said, lowering his voice and Angela could see the worry in his eyes.

"Ok, fine." She sighed.

The cab ride to her place was quiet. Angela was aware of the arm's-width of distance between them. She wriggled further into the door hoping that her breath didn't still smell like vomit.

Of course this was how she was gonna see him again: all gross and helpless. No matter how many years had passed she was still that girl covered in mud.

Barely a week ago she'd been in a cab almost crying over him and now here he was. Solid. Real. Fingers tapping his thigh. Jaw tense as his eyes stared out the window. Years ago she would've taken that hand and smoothed out his fingers. Found his eyes with hers and helped him breathe whatever was worrying him away. But now she was sure it was her causing the stress on his face.

Angela insisted on paying for the cab fare.

"Um, thanks again."

She was about to open the door when Jordan touched her arm. She could feel the warmth of his fingers through her coat. She looked down at his hand before meeting his eyes.

"Angela…I'm…um…in town for a few days and I'd really like to see you again. Can we maybe grab a cup of coffee or something when you feel better?"

Angela hesitated. Everything in her was screaming that this wasn't a good idea, that it was better to leave things the way they were.

He squeezed her arm gently. "Please."

It was the please that did it. So soft and unsure. So vulnerable. Jordan with his walls down was rare and something only a few people ever saw. And she had space she supposed: no Jay, no Brian. No questions about why she was seeing him. If she didn't tell anyone then no one would even know. Despite what he had done she at least owed him that. So, Angela found herself nodding and exchanging numbers.

Her phone rang in her hand. It was Brian. She looked up at Jordan, her eyes wide. "I...I have to take this. Um, thanks again," she said, opening the cab door and stepping out onto the curb.

"I'll call you later."

Angela nodded distractedly at him. Without a backward glance, she made her way inside her building.

"Hi Brian."

"Angela! Are you ok? Rickie said you're sick."

"I'm ok. I'm better now thanks."

"Have you been to see a doctor?"

"Um…yeah actually," remembering what Jordan had done for her, "I'm OK."

"Oh yeah? I called you a while ago. I was um…worried about you."

She bit her lip. "Yeah, sorry, my phone was on silent and I didn't hear it."

"So other than tainted oysters and Jay being at Disney World, anything else exciting happen?" Brian's voice was light and playful.

Angela took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Nope, not a thing."