James scrubbed a hand over his angled jaw, his shoulders falling as he glanced down at the fancy gold pen resting on the table between them, clearly avoiding Maggie’s eyes.

That was something else she was becoming accustomed to: people’s sudden inability to meet her gaze, as if looking into her eyes was too difficult for them.

“I should go.’ Maggie stood, hitching the strap of her handbag onto her shoulder. “TJ has a therapist appointment.’

“Little guy’s still not sleeping, huh?’ James asked, buttoning his suit jacket as he rose to his feet.

“He sleeps,’ she muttered with a shrug. “He just wakes up screaming at least three times a night.’

“Poor kid.’ James shook his head, joining Maggie at the end of the long board table. With a comforting hand placed upon her shoulder, he walked her out of the room. “You know, I can always stop by and pick him up. Maybe take him to get a bite to eat, or to a Sox game?’

With her lips pressed firmly together in the semblance of a smile, she nodded once. But she refused to commit to anything. TJ was far from fragile; at ten years old he was a stocky, slightly uncouth brute. But he was still her baby. And he was broken in the worst possible way. Four weeks ago, he would have jumped at the chance to go see a Red Sox game. Now, he could barely make it out of bed in the mornings, not even when the new little league season began. What was once an obsession with baseball, bordering on unhealthy, was suddenly no more than a dusty mitt and a grass-stained ball he used to throw around in the backyard with his dad; a ball and a mitt that now sat tucked away in a darkened corner of his bedroom.

James and Maggie stopped in the sleek foyer. She could feel the curious gaze of the blonde receptionist bore into the back of her head, but she managed to ignore her. She didn’t like to be rude, but she couldn’t handle yet another look of pity accompanied by a sad, contrite smile.

“I’ll get everything filed by the end of the week.’ James looked down at Maggie, placing a hand on her arm. He squeezed gently, steadying her with an imploring gaze. “Please don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything. Any time, day or night, I don’t care.’

When the threat of tears started to burn her eyes, Maggie averted her gaze, looking down at the shiny marble floor. She nodded, but then she felt a pair of strong arms come around her as James pulled her in close, embracing her unexpectedly. He was just doing what most friends would do in such a situation, she knew that, but she couldn’t stop herself from recoiling, her arms lax at her sides, hands balling into fists. He needed this more than she did. So, she allowed it.

After an awkward moment, Maggie stepped out of the embrace. She forced her chin up, meeting his eyes, and she smiled tightly when he told her he’d be in touch. She responded that she’d give him a call. But the likelihood was that she wouldn’t give him a call. James was Tom’s friend, Tom’s colleague. The sleek foyer in which they stood, in the sky-scraping building on the busy city street, was Tom’s life.