Their waitress sauntered up to the table and tossed her long, white-blond hair behind her shoulder. “How we doing, guys?” She flashed a coy smile, and her blue eyes passed back and forth between the two. She focused on Andrew and gave him a blatant once-over, just like she had when they’d first sat down. Another time, he might have encouraged her and asked for her number at the end of the meal. He knew she’d be happy to provide it.

Wasn’t happening, though. Not today.

“We’re good, thanks,” Andrew said.

“Let me know if I can get you anything.” She brushed her fingers across Andrew’s shoulder as she turned. “Anything at all.”

Logan leaned halfway out of his chair to watch her walk away. “You’d better do something about that, Andrew.”

“Nah.”

“Why the hell not? She’s cute, and aren’t tall blondes your type? She actually kind of looks like—”

“Caroline. I noticed. Not interested.”

Logan was right. Andrew was usually attracted to blond women. But over the last week-and-a-half, no matter how many times he tried not to, he’d had a certain redheaded pharmacist on his mind.

He’d been in a terrible mood the day he met Lauren. Part of it had stemmed from his desire to avoid going to the appointment with the entire female side of his family. He wished he could have just told them no, that he wanted to go by himself. Or allowed only Jeni to come with him. As twins, they were the closest siblings of the group, and she was the one he felt most comfortable sharing this with. But it would have hurt their feelings, especially his mom’s, and it wasn’t worth the weeks of grief they’d aim in his direction.

The other reason he’d started the day pissed off wasn’t something he’d ever say out loud.

It was hard to even admit to himself.

He was scared.

Scared of what the doctor would say, scared of getting chemo, of losing his internship with the best attorney in town.

If he was really honest, scared of dying.

Then he’d walked into that coffee shop and caught sight of a curvy redhead standing in line. Her hair wasn’t the typical orange he’d associate with the description; it was a deep auburn, like a glass of red wine. He hadn’t meant to, but he’d looked at the lit-up phone in her hands and saw that she was looking at a very nice set of breasts. The laugh that escaped him in that moment had been such an unexpected delight that morning that he’d watched the back of her head the remaining time he’d stood there.