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“It’s how much?” she said.

I couldn’t hear what the pharmacist said, but Melena’s body language was clear. She scowled as she dug in her purse for a credit card before handing it to the pharmacist and picking up her pill container.

“Worth their weight in gold?”

Her nose scrunched. “Apparently. I may need a second job to pay my medical bills.”

“When would you find the time? Don’t you already work whenever you can?”

“Yep. The glamorous life of a massage therapist.” She shrugged. “Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out.”

There were enough news articles on medical debt and bankruptcy that I had some clue how catastrophic the bills could be, even with insurance. Melena was quiet as we made our way to the front of the hospital and waited for my car. She didn’t speak as I drove back to her place either. I kept sneaking glances at her, but she just stared out the windows, seeming to focus on nothing. Possibly seeing her dreams of expanding her business washed away in a deluge of debt.

I got out with her after parking in front of her apartment complex. “You don’t have to come up,” she said.

“It’s okay. Safety first. I want to make sure you get upstairs. I’ll leave you at your door. You’re probably tired.”

She scrubbed a hand across her face before smiling at me. “Yeah, I am. But I appreciate you coming with me tonight. It would have been scary being there alone. I appreciate having a friend.”

“Ouch. Demoted.”

“What?”

“I’ve been demoted. And here I thought I made a good fiancé. Kicked down the ladder to friend.”

“Are you sure you weren’t promoted? I don’t have a lot of people I call friend,” she said.

“Ah, who knows? Maybe someday I’ll go for the hat trick.”

“Hat trick?”

“Friend, fiancé, and...” I wiggled my eyebrows as obnoxiously as possible, deepening my voice when I added, “lovers?”

That got a smile out of her. She smacked my arm lightly as we went up the stairs to her floor. “You goof.”

She dropped her purse by her front door and kicked off her flip-flops before turning to me. “Thanks again for everything tonight.”

I winked. “Rain check on a goodnight kiss?”

“What? I’m not sexy now you’ve seen me in a hospital gown?”

Leaning into the lie that a boxy cotton johnny could contain her sex appeal was a lot easier now that she was joking with me. My mock offense was peak SNL church lady. “Why, I never. Here I was trying to be chivalrous; you haven’t had those shockingly expensive meds yet. I don’t want you passing out if things get steamy.”

“You wish,” she said.

“Yeah, I do. But I’ll wait for a better time. Get some rest and call me if you need anything?”

She gave me one last rueful smile as I backed out the door, and she shut it behind me. I waited until the locks tumbled before turning and heading toward my car.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Melena as I drove home. I lived frugally. Check the older Honda sedan I drove. My paycheck covered the basics and gave me room for fun. I also saved as much as I could. Budgeting for the mortgage and down payment on a house had been my major goal the last few years.

A place to make my own. No more base housing. No more apartments with damage deposits and strict no painting rules. I wanted a space I could overhaul to my heart’s content. Demo down to the studs and craft a masterpiece. The minor projects I’d managed in my apartment gave me a taste of that sweet decorating drug. Unconventional or not, I dreamed of bitching with my crew about my latest DIY dilemma and pretending to take the advice of the old salts who’d done it all before. Of course, I didn’t envision living alone. Which brought me back to Melena and her dilemma. I didn’t think she should have to choose between paying her rent and getting her medication. My insurance benefits were solid, if only I could share them with her.

Somehow, I thought the department would frown on sharing, confident that was also called insurance fraud. But what if I went about it more legally? As in legally wed. Dependents could be added to medical, no fuss, no muss. My mind raced at the possibility. That would be perfect. It might even cover the emergency room visit.

I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. I couldn’t protect her from her heart condition, but maybe I could help her out. Fighting my protective instincts was a losing battle. She might not want help, but it didn’t stop me from feeling driven to offer it.

Would it even work? I grabbed my phone and navigated to my text messages. I had my own expert.