She’d never met someone so young who was so damn cocky. Most twenty-year-old guys she knew were either gauche or monosyllabic in her presence, but not Spike. There was a directness, a confidence in his inky-blue eyes that a lot of men never mastered.
Cleary Spike was getting laid far too easily.

Poppy Devine did not deserve cancer. Poppy was sweet and industrious and careful and measured and always, always did the right thing. If anyone deserved cancer it was Julia. Julia was loud and opinionated and disagreeable. Rude, some might even say. She went out with bad men, took unnecessary risks, pushed people to their limits, swore like a sailor and flipped the bird more than any female in the history of the world.
It should be her number coming up in the cancer lottery.

Julia had been angry most of her life. She may have grown up in wealth and privilege but she’d had to fight to be heard and seen. To be validated. To be something other than a piece to be moved around her parents’ Monopoly board. Rage had given her a voice against their manipulations and the guts to walk away. But it had also become ingrained.
There were times when she’d contemplated therapy for it. Right now, she was pleased she hadn’t.
If anything could kill this cancer it would be the weight of Julia’s wrath.

Oh I bet you’re sweet as under all that posh.’
And he looked at her in a way that left her in no doubt that he wasn’t talking about the way she might move on the dance floor. If he mentioned honey pots she was going to pour her vodka shot over him. ‘You’ll never know,

Look,’ she said, sidling a little closer to him in the lift. ‘I understand this wasn’t what you bargained for when some cute girl at the café dared you to jump out of a plane with her. You were in it for thrills and sex and you got breast-cancer girl, her terrifying friend and her flaky mother. That’s above and beyond. And I totally get you’re here because you’d feel like some louse if you left her now, but it’s okay, she’s going to be fine, I’m going to take good care of her.

We’ll make a wellness altar, I think … have some incense burn¬ing, fresh flowers every day and string some lights around it …’
Poppy rolled her head to the side. ‘Still think it’s a good idea?’
Julia blanched at the tackiness of a wellness altar with fairy lights and a water feature, but what the hell, she already had a three-metre girly snake ruining the ambience. ‘Sure,’ she said. If it made Scarlett happy.
Poppy laughed. ‘I’m going to remind you of this conversation when your apartment looks like a Chinese brothel.