Page 45 of While I’m Still Here

“Not yet.”

He nods slowly. “Okay.”

“I have a folder.”

“A folder?”

“It’s pink,” I fake gag.

That finally does it. Danny's nose wrinkles. “Bit fucking obvious.”

Relief rushes through me so quickly I could hug him. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Everyone keeps giving me pink things.”

“Seems insensitive. What if you hate pink?”

“I didn't. I do now.”

“Understandable. We'll move you onto blue cancer.”

I laugh. It’s tiny, but Danny hears it. I watch the moment he comes almost back to normal. The concern doesn't disappear. I don't think it can now, but he seems to understand that I don't need another person looking at me as though I might shatter. Danny leans back in the chair. “Right. Important question.”

I eye him suspiciously. “What?”

“Does this mean you're planning to use cancer to get out of doing the Henderson account?”

A laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it. “Obviously.”

“No.”

“I have cancer.”

“And Henderson has emailed you four times.”

“Are you seriously prioritising Henderson over my tumour?”

“Your tumour hasn't sent me an email labelled urgent.”

“Give it time.”

“I'm just saying, if cancer means I have to finish your fucking spreadsheets, I'm withdrawing my sympathy.”

There he is. My shoulders drop. “You’re a prick.”

“Thank you.” His hand rests on his chest.

“No, genuinely. You're a terrible person.”

“And yet you seem much happier.”

I hate that he's right. I look down at my hands, suddenly unable to look at him. “I don't want everyone treating me differently.”

Danny is quiet for a second. Then he says, “Fine.”

I glance up. “Fine?”