the medical journal findings on brain tumors that have been cured. This website was once my go-to, but now I want it to go to hell.
Both pages are just as bad as the other because both reveal I was thinking about Roman. This really couldn’t get any more embarrassing. That is, until a pop-up flashes across my screen, detailing how stalkers.com has found over five hundred hits on my current search—one Dr. Roman Archibald.
I turn the screen in horror, my face blistering a beet red.
He stands behind me. I’m almost suffocated by his smugness. I can handle this one of two ways— I can tell him the truth, or I can lie.
“It was like that when I got here.” Watch my nose grow.
To corroborate my story, I spin slower than a snail and give Roman the best guiltless look I can muster. He no doubt sees through my lie but doesn’t address my big fat tall tale.
Now that it’s out there, I don’t see the point in wasting this opportunity. Tapping my chin, I state blankly, “I took you for a cat person.” He blinks once before his mouth curves into a sinful smirk. “So, what’s his name?”
“Freud.”
I cock an eyebrow. “You named your fur baby after a mamma’s boy who had an unhealthy obsession with phalluses?”
He runs a hand through his hair, attempting to hide his smile. “It was either that or Dr. Jekyll. But I wasn’t interested in a two-for-one deal.”
Now I’m the one to smile.
He stands over me with both hands dug deep into his pants pockets while I lean back in my seat, smoldering under his heated stare. “I haven’t had a chance to commend you on your public speaking. Your mother would be jealous. You’d completely upstage her.”
I know he’s talking about my impromptu speech last night because Camille Van Allen is a motivational speaker for women who have hit rock bottom. Her job is to inspire and encourage. Too bad she’s full of shit.
I beam as any jab at my mother makes me happy.
So, he’s done his homework—interesting. It looks like we’ve both exhausted stalkers.com. “Thank you.”
He remains stone-faced. “It takes courage, Lola…” He pauses before adding, “But we both know how courageous you are.” His double-edged sword has me squirming.
We still haven’t addressed the Erin incident, or the fact he’s caught me researching the very drugs he believes can save my life. I could ask him about them. I mean, he is a doctor. He has all the information I need. But I don’t. I can’t. All I can think of are the remaining ninety-two case studies. What happened to them? Are they happy, regretful, or are they pessimistic like me?
June made it clear Roman wants to save the world, but I’m beyond saving.
Tapping my pen against the desk, I wonder if this is how every author feels before penning their most treasured thoughts. These words are not for anyone’s eyes but mine, but still, I feel an incredible sense of pressure to get it right.
I’ve never kept a diary or journal, as I didn’t see the point in rereading a past I never want to relive. Life is short. I don’t know how long I have left, so maybe leaving a legacy behind isn’t so bad. But the legacy I leave is a tribute to my friend, who I refuse to forget. I want her memory to live on long after I’m gone.
So, I let go.
I’ve met some nice people—Zoe is great. I think you’d like her. I also have met someone else…he’s a doctor. I know for a fact that you’d like him. He certainly has tested me.
He thinks I can be cured.
I pause, pressing the pen to the paper, but I don’t know what else to say. I don’t want to document my fears because seeing them on paper will confirm what a big ole scaredy-cat I am.
He is infuriatingly stubborn, but I find myself drawn to him, and I don’t know why. He has secrets, and I want to uncover each one because, underneath them, I think, lies the reason he wants to help me.
I wish you were here because you would tell me what to do.
A soft knock sounds at my door. “Lola? It’s me, Zoe.”
I instantly shove the journal into the desk drawer, shutting it abruptly.
“Coming,” I reply, brushing the hair from my brow and attempting to still my racing heart.
“Hey!” My overzealous greeting makes it obvious something is askew, but thankfully, she doesn’t comment and enters.