My legs can't stop shaking. We've been sitting for over two hours in this private hospital waiting area, and I've been sipping this bland-tasting water.
Zara’s still choking with laughs beside me.
"Okay, but my favorite part is still the juice. You have to tell me about the juice again," she says.
I groan and lift her hand off my shoulder. "Zara, we've been over this. It wasn't that funny."
She shakes her head. "Not funny? Babe, Adam Hilton—billionaire, tech genius, human rage tornado—was squeezing pomegranates into a bowl while yelling at his phone in three different languages."
My lips burst out again with a loud laugh. I'm remembering the tornado of events that played out last night just because I told Adam I'm seasick.
"Don't make me laugh, Zara. And he wasn't yelling. He was…
