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Remington was in his office, and when I rushed in, his head snapped up. Seeing the excitement on my face, his eyes brightened. “Hey. I’m glad you came down. I need you to sign these for me.”

“Okay, but in a minute.” I grabbed the arms of his desk chair and pulled him around so I could flop down on his lap. He laughed until I pushed the stick into his hand.

His brow pinched together, and he stared down at it as if he couldn’t understand what I’d just given him.

“Remi,” I murmured, unable to help the smile that spread across my entire face. “We’re pregnant.”

His head shot up, and those clear blue eyes clouded. The excitement I was feeling wasn’t reflected back at me, and my heart sank a little. “You can’t be.”

A tiny laugh escaped me. “Well, there is the proof that says I very much can and am.”

He lifted me off his lap and started to pace. “No. I mean it’s impossible for you to be pregnant, Violet.”

I rolled my eyes. “You haven’t exactly been careful, mister. Or didn’t anyone ever explain to you how babies are made?”

“Violet,” he growled, frustration making his face tight. “This isn’t a joke. I…I can’t get you pregnant. It’s physically impossible.”

I blinked at him a few times as what he was saying set in. “Well, apparently you are more than capable. So, whoever told you that you’re not was a liar.” He didn’t say anything, and I felt the blood drain from my face. “Or do you think this baby isn’t yours?”

“No, of course I don’t think that,” he rushed to assure me. “We’re together practically every minute of the day. Why would I think you cheated on me?”

“I don’t know,” I cried. “But it’s how you’re coming across, Remi. I tell you we’re going to be parents, and you act like—” I broke off, unable to find the words to explain his reaction. All I knew was that it kind of hurt. “Aren’t you happy? Don’t you want to be a father?”

He closed his eyes and released a shuddery breath. “Yes, my love. I would give anything for that to happen. But I can’t, Violet.”

“Why would you think that?” I picked up the pregnancy test and waved it at him. “This tells us both that you can.”

Muttering a curse, he took the stick from me and threw it across the room before cupping both sides of my face in his hands. “Because for a year, I underwent chemotherapy, sweetheart. The doctors told me it would be impossible for me to ever father a child afterward. Nearly impossible, apparently.”

Tears instantly burned my eyes. “You were sick?” I couldn’t imagine him being so ill he needed chemotherapy. It hurt to even think about.

He swallowed hard and dropped his hands. “I’m still sick, Violet.”

I jerked as if he’d physically struck me. “Wh-what?” Two tears spilled over my lashes.

“I have cancer.”

“No,” I denied. This was some sick joke. We were so happy. Our life together was just really getting started. He couldn’t be… “You’re not sick. You look too healthy.”

“Yes, Vi. I have an inoperable brain tumor. Two years ago, my grandfather took me all over the world, looking for someone who could either operate or come up with the right treatment plan to cure it.” He blew out a harsh exhale. “No one was willing to do surgery. It was too risky. The chemo and radiation shrank the tumor, but I hated how sick it made me. When I was finished, the doctors all warned me there was a high probability of it coming back.”

“No.” I shook my head, not wanting to believe him.

“A few weeks before you came to London, I started getting the headaches again. A scan confirmed it had returned. It was small but growing.” He dropped down into his chair and ran his fingers through his hair while I just stood there, unable to move or speak. I wasn’t even sure I was breathing. This couldn’t be real. It was just a really bad nightmare. I would wake up soon, cuddled up beside him in our bed.

“I promised myself if it came back, I wouldn’t go through chemo or radiation again. I would accept whatever came with that decision, but I wasn’t going to go through that nightmare.” Tears filled his beautiful eyes when he met my stunned gaze. “I want a full life with you, Violet. I want everything. Every moment. Every joy. Every second I have left on this earth, I want to spend it with you. And if that life is five minutes, five months, or five years, I don’t care. I’ll take whatever fate deems me worthy of having.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked through numb lips.

“Because I didn’t want to scare you.” He grimaced. “And I’m selfish. I didn’t want to risk losing you if you couldn’t handle my illness.”

“You thought I wouldn’t love you if I knew you were sick,” I amended for him, pissed that he would think I was so shallow. How could he think my love was so fragile?

“Yes,” he muttered and hung his head in shame.

“How long?” I asked quietly, and his head snapped up.

“What?”

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