Page 38 of While I’m Still Here

“I was appreciating.”

My mouth falls open. “Appreciating?”

Colin's expression turns sheepish. “I only have a limited amount of time left to admire the originals.”

Silence.

He winces. “That sounded better in my head.”

“You are disgusting.”

“I meant before surgery.”

“I know what you meant!”

“You asked.”

I grab a sock from the bed and throw it at him. He catches it.

Bastard.

“They aren't going anywhere today.”

“I'm making the most of the time available.”

“Pervert.”

“Seven years, Bea.”

I grab a grey blouse. “That is not a defence.”

“It fucking is. If you get to use cancer, then I get to use seven years.”

I turn away so he can't see me smiling, but when I pull the blouse on and start fastening the buttons, something changes. The laughter disappears and my fingers slow.

Because he's right.

There might be a morning soon when getting dressed looks different. There might be a morning when this bra doesn't belong to me anymore because there's nothing on one side to put inside it. My fingers stop on the final button, and behind me, Colin goes quiet. He crosses the room but doesn't mention what just happened.

Instead, he reaches up and fixes the collar I've accidentally folded underneath itself then he presses a kiss against my forehead. “Printer Bea?” he asks.

I swallow. “Printer Bea.”

“Go terrorise your colleagues.”

I grab my handbag, phone and keys. Then I look at the Pink Folder of Doom. For half a second, I consider taking it.

I don't.

Cancer can stay here for a few hours.

I have work.

I have a best friend who may or may not be my boyfriend and who has apparently been in love with me since approximately the invention of electricity, and somewhere inside my left breast, I have one greedy little bastard who has no idea just how inconvenient it’s now made my life.

For once, I decide to worry about work and decide I probably shouldn’t be late.

Chapter 7