Within These Walls by J. L. Berg

family?”
    “No.” I shifted from one side to the other, feeling uncomfortable by the sudden onslaught of questions.
    “What about a woman? Surely, a man like you has to have a woman?”
    “No, not anymore.” The pain from saying the words felt like a sword lancing through my heart—a heart that still beat unlike Megan’s who I’d selfishly kept from moving on.
    He obviously saw the hurt in my eyes because he didn’t say another word. He just allowed me to do my job, moving from one task to another, until I was finally finished.
    Just as I was about to leave, I remembered a story Nash had told me earlier in the week. Nash was full of stories. His life was an endless cascading sea of them, and as if he didn’t have enough of them to pull from in his real life, he would make them up as well.
    With over forty novels under his belt, I’d learned—thanks to Google—that Nash Taylor was one of the most accomplished fictional writers of our time. He’d earned every literary award known to man, and he was also known for being a little flamboyant. Loose with his morals and even looser with his money, the man had a reputation for mischief, which is why he had a slew of ex-wives and several children and grandchildren.
    Since I’d met the man, he’d told me so many stories about his life. I felt like I knew his autobiography better than I knew my own. One particular story stuck out more than the others because it could help my current predicament.
    In the eighties, during a particularly long period of writer’s block, Nash had decided to take a job as a cook. He’d had absolutely no experience, and he’d said the manager was probably either drunk or incredibly stupid to hire him, but he’d thought the job would give him some inspiration. For six months, he’d explored the culinary world.
    “I was the worst cook on the face of the earth—at first,” he’d said. “But the more I tried, the better I became. Like a virgin, I was sloppy and clumsy to start, but I practiced, practiced, practiced! Then, bam! I became a natural!”
    Nash always managed to take every story and relate it back to sex. I would call it some sort of gift, but really, I thought he was just a dirty old man.
    “Hey, Nash,” I said, turning around.
    “Yes, my quiet friend?”
    “Could you help me plan a meal? I want to cook dinner with someone, but I seriously can’t cook shit.”
    His lips turned skyward, and his expression warmed.
    Thirty minutes later, I’d written out a ton of notes and gotten a bit of a headache from the amount of talking, but I had a meal and a plan.
     

     
    I knew what I had planned would probably take far longer than the hour I was allowed for a lunch break, so the following day, I showed up at the hospital, dressed in my civilian clothes, and for once, I didn’t clock in. Instead, I headed down to the cafeteria, walking past the line of staff and visitors waiting to pay their tabs, and I gave Betty, the cafeteria lady, a quick wink. She blushed and puckered her lips, giving me a flirty air kiss back, as she waved me back through the kitchen.
    Ten minutes later, I had mostly everything set up, and I was in the elevator on my way up to the cardiology unit. I anxiously tapped my foot as I waited for the floor number to light up and the sound to buzz, signaling the door was about to open.
    I was edgy…or nervous.
    I didn’t know. I was definitely something.
    Twitchy with a touch of anxious maybe?
    What if she hates it? What if something goes wrong, and she gets hurt? How much activity can she handle? Will I be overexerting her?
    A million things were running through my mind when the elevator door finally opened, and I stepped into the familiar hallway. I wanted nothing more than to make Lailah’s life better. After everything I’d done to fuck it up, it was something I needed to do. I only hoped that by stepping into her world and becoming a part of her life, I wasn’t going to do more harm than good.
    Maybe I