Page 33 of The Last Kiss

“There’s other stuff too. You need to look into sick pay. Will you still get paid when you have bad days?”

This makes me snort. “I’m lucky to get paid as it is. I think sick pay is taking the piss.”

“Ah, but you still have to live, still have to pay your mortgage.”

“Rent,” I correct.

“Same thing.”

It’s really not, but I don’t bother correcting her. When I’m no longer here, the flat currently my home will be rented by someone else. It’s not like there is an estate to finalise.

“Also, did Dr Francis give you any idea on how long you will be functioning like this, when things might change?”

I grasp her hand and squeeze tight. “Liv, stop. This is just the first day. We don’t need to have everything spreadsheeted, calendared, and organised right this moment.”

She doesn’t look convinced. In fact, she looks like she wants to get her laptop out to start crunching numbers.

“So anyway, tell me about your girls’ night.” I swiftly change the subject before she can get her phone out and start the ‘regime’. “What’s the occasion for the Notting Hill Sisterhood?”

“Rachel is having future mother-in-law issues. We decided she needed wine.”

I cock an eyebrow while my stomach rumbles and I eye Lenny’s breadstick with the rabid zeal of a starved wolf.

“Ooh, sounds fun.” I stare her dead in the eye. “Sign me up.”

Charlie swings back with two big bowls of salad, more garden feature than actual food. “You coming next week, Jules?”

Liv smirks and spears at her salad, peering into the dense forest with the tip of her fork.

“I’ll see,” I nod vaguely, “I’m not sure when I’m going to hear from the hospital.” This will be my excuse from now on. I’ll officially never have to socialise again. Yay for me.

Charlie pulls a seat from the empty table the other side of ours and plonks down. With only two tables occupied to keep her busy I guess she needs a break. I look around the restaurant. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen it with more than two tables full.

Ah. I see now the unspoken messages Liv was trying to tell me earlier.

“You okay?” I ask Charlie. The Notting Hill gang might be Liv’s friends, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care. As reluctant an adoptee I might be, they’ve looked after me the last couple of years since I got sick.

Got sick.

I probably needed to rephrase that now. Got sick kind of implies that there will be a recovery.

“Oh, you know. I’m thinking of doing a special wine night or something, try to pull in some new faces.” She nods, plastering a smile.

“Wine and cheese?”

Liv arches an eyebrow. “Cheese? Are we in the seventies? Do you want pineapple on sticks too?”

Jesus, I’ve got cheese Tourette’s. Next, I’ll be suggesting a French-themed night in a vegan health kitchen.

“Sorry, I kind of forget the vegan thing.” I spear a hedgerow of salad and shove it in my mouth before I can say anything else or get asked anything else.

Charlie smirks, her dark eyes dancing. “So how was your Friday night, Jules?”

“Fine. How was yours?”

“Depressingly quiet.” A grin starts to stretch across her face. “Bet yours wasn’t.”

Liv throws her head back laughing.