Pride, Prejudice, and Other Flavors (The Rajes #1)(35)

Dr. Raje had probably already seen her. Maybe she had convinced Emma that her life was worth saving. The indignation on Trisha Raje’s face, infuriating as it was, might be exactly what Emma needed. The woman obviously had no experience backing down from a fight in her overindulged life. The clash of two immovable forces was his best hope.

He threw another look at the photograph that time had faded into sepia tones before folding his wallet and pressing it to his chest and caught the eye of a woman who was watching him from two seats away. She had golden dreadlocks and the most stunning blue eyes that twinkled gently when she smiled at him. He smiled back, hooking into a stranger’s kindness and seeking comfort in it for a moment.

The woman got up and moved to the chair next to him. She threw a pointed look at the wallet he was clutching as though his life depended on it. “A parent?” she asked softly.

“My sister.” He opened the wallet and gave her a glimpse of his almost lost family.

“Beautiful.”

“Thanks.” He touched the picture one more time before tucking it back into his pocket, because he was having just the kind of day where kindness from a stranger might cause him to burst into public sobs, which was a bit too horrifying for his English heart.

“Is she going to be okay?”

He hoped so, but he couldn’t say it, so he shrugged. “Do you have family here too?” They were in the Neurosciences Institute. Nobody would be here if they could avoid it.

Something horribly sad flashed in her eyes. “Orphan,” she said, raising her hand as though in a roll call. “Don’t have a family.” She tried to cover up the sadness with a breezy smile. “I’m a journalist. I’m working on a series of films on end-of-life treatments and terminally ill patients.”

“Cheery,” he said.

“Someone’s got to tell the stories of the people medical science can’t save.” She said it with the kind of sincerity only someone who had found purpose in their work would recognize.

“Until a week ago we thought no doctor could save my sister.”

“And now?”

Now she didn’t want to be saved. “And now it’s complicated.” He stood. He needed to find his complicated sister and get her to see how uncomplicated this really was.

She stood, too. “I’m Julia Wickham.” She stuck out her hand and he took it. What the handshake lacked in firmness, her smile made up for in kindness.

“DJ Caine.”

“Do you mind my asking who’s treating your sister?”

“Dr. Trisha Raje,” he said absently, eager to get to Emma and find out how her meeting with her doctor had gone. “I have to go. It was nice meeting you.”

“Nice meeting you too.” She gave him another stunning smile. “Is it okay if I call you? I’d be very interested in speaking with your sister.”

He almost laughed; Emma would strangle him with her bare hands.

“I know it’s a difficult time. But research has shown that laying out your thoughts on camera can aid in processing traumatic events and help deal with them. This might be exactly what your sister needs to uncomplicate things.”

What Emma needed was her tumor to be in a different part of her brain. Just the way she needed their mum to be here to talk her through this, and not a brother who had no idea what to do.

“Think about it. We don’t pay but we set up a funding campaign and our reach on social media is so good that donations from viewers can really add up. I know what the bills can be like. And we usually raise enough to pay them off and have money left over.”

“Thank you but, no, we aren’t interested.”

She looked disappointed, but she smiled kindly, extracted a business card from her bag, and pressed it into his hand. “Let’s at least exchange cards. Who knows what might come up.”

He took her card and retrieved one for her from his wallet. “I’m a private chef. In case you know anyone who needs a party catered. But, sorry, won’t be able to help you with anything else.”

With another bright smile she slipped his card into her bag. “Good luck with your sister.”

That he could use. He thanked her and made his way to Emma, hoping she wouldn’t throw him out.

SHE DIDN’T. INSTEAD, when he opened with, “I’m sorry. I should have heard you out. I’m going to listen now,” Emma’s skeptical brow quirked up. It didn’t seem to believe him any more than she did.

But when he handed her the box of pralines he’d made her, she snatched it up and popped one in her mouth. For a while there were no words. Just satisfied sounds as she closed her eyes and soaked up the taste of her favorite candy.

Finally, she spoke around the last bits of it. She always let it melt in her mouth instead of chewing it like a normal person. “Good. Because the doctor discharged me. I need to go home with you.”

Sod it all! What? All his resolve to stay calm exploded inside him. “Go home? What the bloody bollocks is that supposed to mean?”

She gave the praline in her mouth a thoughtful suck. “It means you get to take me to the flat you currently reside in.”

“Quit being a cheeky cow! How the hell could she discharge you?” His voice was steadily rising.

Instead of matching his anger, Emma channeled the Dalai Lama and went utterly calm. Ever since she’d told him about the tumor, all she’d been was a crackling ball of contrariness. Even when her body had been tired, she’d ceaselessly fought the finality of the test results and diagnoses being thrown at her. Her resolve had been a bit scary, but having her act like she was making peace with something she couldn’t fight, that was downright terrifying.