He gave her a final look that she supposed was meant to be some sort of sorrowful encouragement. When he closed the door behind her, the trauma of the news came slamming into her heart and mind. She let out a singular wail and then held the rest in as images of her daughterbright, happy, smiling, full of dreamsfilled her head. She rocked back and forth on the edge of the examination table. She only reached for her phone a single time, fully prepared to call Peter. She could still hear him singing in the shower, echoing in her head, and for some reason she did not want to tell him. She did not want to throw this grenade into their orderly lives.

No…not over the phone. If she called and told him he needed to come pick her up, hed know something was wrong. For now, shed get herself together and go home. Shed find some way to tell him at dinnerhim and Paige, both.

And with that thought, the tears came faster as something within Rachel felt like it was breaking.

CHAPTER THREE

As she slid the dish with the prepared ingredients into the oven, Rachel thought she might start crying. Shed chosen something simplebaked spaghetti, one of Paiges favoritesand it was still a monumental task to focus on the ingredients and bake times. Making dinner with the weight of the doctors devastating news was unbearably difficult

How was she supposed to tell Paige that she wouldnt have a mother in a year or so? How was she going to have the talk with Peter and start figuring out how to move money around, how their insurance would

The front door opened as Peter arrived home from work. Rachel heard Paige squeal Daddy! at the top of her lungs and then a series of little footsteps as she ran to greet him. It was a sweet little bit of monotony, the same way every Monday through Thursday afternoon played out. Paige pretended to attack Peter, Peter dropped his bags and picked her up, spinning her in circles until he deposited her on the couch.

Rachel listened to it all as she set the oven timer. She the wiped the counters down and took out plates for the table, anticipating the last part of the weekday routine. It came, just as expected. Peter came into the kitchen, gave her a playful tap on her backside, and kissed her cheek.

Good day? he asked.

Mmm hmm. Tears stung her eyes as she said this and she made a point to keep facing the cabinets as she took out the plates. You?

Busy, but not too busy, he answered. Mostly just meetings to figure out who were going to get to write up these proposals. Which means the next few weeks will be absolute hell. And maybe a few after-hours sessions at the office. So just a heads up.