“Yeah. Some days are rougher than others. She’s having a good day today, more upbeat than yesterday.”

He laughed. “I asked how you are.”

“We’re one and the same, Josh. I’m whatever she is.”

“So no regrets?”

I shook my head. “None.”

“Even with the cancer?”

“I didn’t choose to fall in love with her; I just did. Just like she didn’t choose to have cancer; she just does.”

The back door slid open, and she stepped out. “I missed my own birthday party.” She laughed. “What kind of person does that?”

She walked over and curled up on my lap, running her hand over my head. “Thank you.” She kissed my cheek. “I had a good birthday.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Hey, C-Lo,” Josh interrupted.

Chloe turned to him.

“He kinda looks like Gollum, no?”

She laughed. “He does not. He looks hot.”

Josh shook his head. “You always get the girl, bald head and all.”

Chloe chuckled. “Free-Pussy Hunter,” she mocked.

I shook my head at her. “Cute, babe. Throw me under the bus.”

She laughed harder, moving closer and kissing my neck.

“Fuck, that was a good night,” Josh said. “Hey C-Lo, when you get better we should go back there, for old time’s sake.”

Her face lit up. “Fire truck yeah, we will!”

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

One Year Later

Chloe

Tommy sat on Blake’s shoulders as we watched Josh take the first-place podium. He’d started competing on the pro skateboarding circuit around a year ago and made a huge splash when he had. People had thought he had died when he’d just disappeared off the face of the earth right before Tommy was born. It’d taken one competition for him to be noticed and for sponsors to start knocking on his door. He’d declined sponsorship, wanting to make sure that his time with Tommy wouldn’t be determined or limited by their requests. He was still living in the garage apartment because he wanted to make sure that there was enough money to give him and Tommy a good start.

“You guys didn’t have to come out today. We could’ve met you at the hospital,” Josh said, coming up to us after the ceremony had ended.

I backhanded Blake in the stomach. He faked hurt. That made Tommy laugh. “This guy can’t sit still. I had to get him out of the house or he was going to lose his mind.”

“I ate an entire bag of lollipops on the way here,” Blake bragged.

Dr. James sighed and dropped a stack of folders on her desk. Her lips clamped shut as she forced a smile.

That wasn’t a good sign.

Blake’s knees started bouncing higher, faster. I settled them with my hands. “Sorry, baby, I’m just scared.”

Before I could respond, Dr. James spoke up. “You brought your army with you.” She motioned to her office door. Behind it, everyone was waiting. Everyone. Our parents, the kids, Josh, Tommy, and the entire Duke basketball team.

“I’m sorry about that,” I said quietly. “They all wanted to be here . . . either way.”

She nodded and took a seat.

“I’ve got your results.” Her tone was stern, and for a moment I panicked. Dr. James was an amazing doctor, but more than that, she’d become a friend to both of us. She knew all about our relationship, our lives, and us. And she knew how to swiftly switch from friend to doctor—and right now she was all doctor.

“And?” Blake asked. His face had paled; the nerves and the anticipation had gotten the best of him.

She handed us a thick letter-size envelope. “I think you should read them for yourselves.”

Blake and I eyed each other for a long moment before he reached for it. He pulled out the document and laid it on the table between us. We leaned in, slow and simultaneous. My eyes scanned back and forth, reading each line, but they weren’t the results I’d expected.

“This is just a list of her treatment history,” he said, his eyes never leaving the page.

I looked up. Dr. James was sitting back in her chair, her fingers steepled against her chin. “Keep reading. Keep flipping the pages.”

We scanned each page for something different, something that would pop out. My fingers itched to turn the papers faster, searching for the final results of my treatment—whether or not I was cured.

Blake inhaled deeply before blowing out a shaky breath. His gaze moved to me. I tried to smile, but I was getting less and less positive about the outcome.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too.”

We both turned back to the document.

Continued to flip the pages.

And then we stopped.

We didn’t need to read the words to know what they meant.

“Blake,” I sobbed. I couldn’t peel my eyes away from the page in front of me.

White paper.

Red ink.

I cried into his chest.

“You did it, baby.” He kissed my hair. My short-but-still-there hair. “You beat it.” I didn’t know how long we spent, sitting there, crying with each other. The weight of the world had finally lifted. “I’m so proud of you.” He held my head in his hands and searched my face.

Dr. James sniffed.

We both turned to her. “Happy red-letter day,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “You’re all clear, Chloe. Go plan your wedding.”