Page 70 of While I’m Still Here

“Especially then.”

“What if you're asleep?”

“I'll answer when I wake up.”

“What if it's stupid?”

“I spent three nights searching whether chemotherapy could permanently alter my sense of taste because I was worried I'd never enjoy curry again.”

Her mouth twitches. “Did it?”

“No.”

“Thank God,” she sighs in relief.

“Exactly.”

She looks down at her phone again, thumb moving along the edge of the case. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

A car turns into the road, and I recognise the man behind the wheel before Bea says his name.

Colin.

He sees us standing together beneath the awning. His gaze settles on me for a moment before he pulls over, and although nothing overtly hostile shows in his expression, I get the distinct impression that Colin is far more observant than Bea gives him credit for.

“That's me,” she says.

“I gathered.”

She takes two steps towards the car before turning around again. “Marcus?”

“Yes?”

“I still hate the group.”

“I know.”

“And I'm only going back because Janet said she's bringing lemon drizzle cake next week.”

“Of course, it’s almost to die for,” I tell her, and I do mean it. Janet makes a mean drizzle cake.

“It has nothing to do with emotional growth.”

“I wouldn't dream of suggesting otherwise.”

Bea smiles, heads toward Colin’s car, and I wait until she’s inside before walking to mine. My phone vibrates before I've reached it. I stop beneath the rain and look down.

BEA

Testing your number.

This is not a 2 am cancer emergency. Remain calm.

Also, I fixed your contact.

I should ignore it until I'm home. Instead, I type.