Page 111 of Love, Just In

He blinks at me through pained eyes. ‘I didn’t know it was this bad. That you would be too scared to even go for a test. I’m so sorry.’

‘Don’t be sorry. You’re someone who’s been through real, actual horror. And here’s me in a soul-destroying, career-killing panic over something that hasn’t even happened yet.’

It’s the first time I’ve admitted that my anxiety is leapfrogging every random health symptom I have into a death sentence, but Zac shakes his head with a crease in his brow. ‘Stop doing that.’

‘Doing what?’

‘Acting like I’m the only one who’s allowed to be scared. Your problems matter just as much as mine, OK? Having lost a girlfriend doesn’t give me the world exclusive on fear and sadness. Nor does it mean I’m the only one allowed to be affected by what happened.’

I bite away tears as I nod.

He tuts like he’s breaking his will and leans across the table to collect my fingers in his. The action sends tears spilling down my cheeks.

‘I’m just so tired of this,’ I cry as he strokes my fingers. ‘I don’t know how to fix it. I know I need to go to that test, but what happens if they tell me I have cancer?’ My voice breaks, and I hide my face in the crook of my arm, wishing we weren’t in such a public place.

Zac’s hand stays tight in mine. ‘How many medical tests have you had in your life? How many of those came back with bad news?’

His words bounce off my ears, making sense to someone else but not me. A heavy sigh drags through my lips as I gaze around the bar scattered with girls in stylish winter dresses and guys sharing belly laughs, seeing nothing but bleakness and despair.

‘I’m scared that this test is going to be the one,’ I finally admit. ‘I’m scared that I’m going to die. I’m scared that I’m going to die young and alone.’

‘Look at me,’ Zac demands softly, and I raise my tear-filled eyes to him. ‘You will never be alone,’ he says. ‘Not as long as I’m here. And I’m not going to sit here and tell you it’s wrong to be scared. I’m not going to tellyou that everything’s always going to be fine, and that bad stuff doesn’t happen to good people. I am, however, going to hold your hand for as long as you need me to.’

I twist my palm in his and weave our fingers together, electricity burning a trail from his hand into my heart.

Zac swallows thickly. ‘As a friend,’ he clarifies.

A terrible, helpless feeling pushes against my sternum.

‘Can we talk about that?’ I ask in a whisper.

He reaches for his beer with his free hand and tosses back a gulp, tension filling his face. ‘Not now, Josie, OK? I just need a bit more time to think. To get my head right.’

Unease rips through me, and he squeezes my fingers, looking right into my eyes. ‘We’ll talk, OK? But right now, more important than anything is that I need you to promise me you’ll rebook that test. And I can come with you when you take it. Whatever day it is, I’ll get it off work, I swear. Please.’ His brow tightens with desperation, and I find myself nodding. I’m tired of running. I’m just so fucking tired.

‘Is this the famous Zac Jameson?’ asks a voice made for television, and my head snaps up to meet Christina’s smile.

‘I don’t know; who’s asking? Certainly not the famous newsreader Christina Rice,’ he replies, crossing his broad arms with a smirk, and her face lights up.

I warned you. He’s adorable.

‘Nice to meet you,’ she says with a laugh, and he rises to kiss her cheek while I unhook a shopping bag fromher arm. Zac drags over a chair, and I ask Christina if she wants something to drink, but she declines.

‘You were quick,’ I say, happy to see her but also a touch gutted that my conversation with Zac has been cut short.

She runs a hand over her lower stomach. ‘Yes, I’m not feeling too well.’

Alarm shoots through me. ‘Are you OK?’

‘I think so. I think I’m having those false contractions you get before you go into labour.’

‘Braxton Hicks,’ Zac comments as she winces. ‘How far along are you?’

‘Thirty-six weeks.’

‘How bad are the pains?’ he asks. ‘Scale of one to ten?’

She lets out a long breath. ‘They’re mild. I’d say about a two.’

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