Harry's words were so soft, she wondered if he was whispering or if her hearing was fading. He touched her face, ran his fingers through her hair, and she sighed; yet his touch made her want to cry. She felt so out of sorts. She longed to reach out and hold him, but good would it do? Her arms weren't going to move.
She blinked up at him, aware that her eyes were full of tears. She wanted to smile for him, but she couldn't quite get her mouth to cooperate. "I'm sorry for our lousy date," she said. "I should have let you go home and rest. I was selfish. I wanted--" I wanted it to be carefree and happy.