The moment Julian had predicted.
Surely she would step back now.
Maybe she would say:
We’ve only been dating two years.
Maybe:
Your family should handle this.
Maybe she would calculate what loving a bankrupt, dying man could cost her.
Instead, she leaned forward and held his face.
“How long do we have?”
Archie blinked.
“What?”
“How long before the treatment window closes?”
He stared.
“Three months?”
She continued.
“Six?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then find out.”
Skyla stood.
She grabbed a legal pad from the desk.
“Give me the specialist’s name.”
His stomach tightened.
“Skyla…”
“What clinic?”
“I don’t have everything with me.”
“Then call them.”
She was already reaching for her phone.
“We’ll find grants.”
“Sky—”
“Clinical trials.”
She started writing.
“Crowdfunding.”
Another line.
“Patient advocacy organizations.”
“Skyla.”
“What?”
“You don’t have to do this.”
She looked at him like he had said something insane.
