Mary nods, but the fleeting glance she shoots at James answers my questions. I take his hand and pull him away, out of Mary’s immediate earshot.

“I know your heart is in the right place, and that you were no doubt thinking of me and my health when you organized this. But please, I don’t want to be treated like an invalid. At least not until I am one. I just want to be normal.”

His face softens, although his eyes are sad. It’s a look I’ve seen a million times, and it never gets any easier. When I see the sadness in the eyes of someone whose heart is breaking because I am dying, it breaks my heart. And I feel guilty, which is nonsense because none of this is my fault. But still, I hate to be the cause of hurt in anyone, let alone anyone I care deeply about.

“OK.” He nods. Then he turns to Mary and speaks loudly. “Mary, change of plans. We’re taking the steps.”

To her credit she says nothing, even though my cynical mind tells me she’s probably worried about insurance or lawsuit issues should I fall and break my neck. She leads us up the widest set of steps, the ones that lead to the larger of the tree houses.

“This is the restaurant.” She indicates with a hand. “Closed now, but you’ll be seeing it tonight. Your rooms are this way.”

I notice the guy with our bags has been waiting for us outside the doors of our rooms. They are adjacent to each other, and connected by a platform, but still separate rooms. Just as James promised. He opens the door and I step inside. Immediately my mouth drops open. Larger than it appears from the outside, the room is crafted entirely from different kinds of wood and natural materials. Built around the existing tree trunk, there are two large branches that come up through the floor and disappear out the roof, giving the appearance that the tree has grown around the house and not vice versa. One side is floor-to-ceiling glass doors, which open out onto a deck with a view over the forest and the ranges. The bed in the center of the room is the biggest bed I have ever seen, with four posts on the corners and frothy white mosquito nets, which I assume means I can sleep with the doors open if I like and remain uneaten. The linen is crisp, white, and luxurious.

I gape at James. “I’m sleeping here? Are you serious?”

James grins, delighted by my reaction. “It’s all yours,” he confirms. “But you haven’t seen the best bit yet.”

He strides over past the bed behind a screened area and I follow him. There are more glass doors and he pushes them open effortlessly.

“Ta da,” he says.

Behind him, set into the deck, is a large spa bath. At the sight of it, all thoughts of sleep disappear in an instant. I have the water running before the man with the bags has even left the room. James lingers to watch on indulgently as I run the bath water.