“I can see this is a huge shock,” he said. “I’m so very sorry, but at this point, you’ve passed the time when surgery, chemotherapy or radiotherapy can help you. We will do our absolute best to keep you comfortable, but now is the time to get your affairs in order.”

Jess saw his mouth moving and heard his words, but every part of her was screaming to reject them. “No! No! You don’t understand. I’m thirty-four. I’ve got a toddler to raise.”

“I’m sorry,” he said helplessly. “Ovarian cancer is like a sleeping giant. Often, by the time the symptoms are obvious it’s already too late. Sadly, this is what’s happened to you. I know it’s not fair and the next few weeks will be difficult but—”

“Weeks?” The room spun around her. “Are you saying that’s all I’ve got?”

“No one can predict exactly, Jess, but it’s looking very grim.”

“So, you could be wrong?”

“Based on my experience—”

“I want a second opinion!”

“Of course. I’ll arrange it.” He produced some papers and placed them on the over-bed table. “I’ll leave these here for you to read and a social worker and nurse from palliative care will visit and explain the services on offer. I promise you, Jess, we’ll do our absolute best for you.”

“Your best doesn’t sound anywhere near good enough if it means I’m going to die!”

“Thank you, doctor.” Karen’s voice trembled. “Can we call you later when Jess has questions?”

“Absolutely. And I’ll drop in again before I leave for the day.” He placed his hand over Jess’s and fixed his gaze on her face as if no one else existed. “I’m so very sorry.”

His sincerity wrapped around her like a python, squeezing her. She fought it with everything she had. “I won’t die. I refuse to die!”

He neither agreed or disabused her—he didn’t have to. His sadness-laden silence spoke louder than any words.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Libby struggled to concentrate. She’d been dogged by the problem from the moment she’d woken, stretched out her foot to tangle it with Nick’s and hit cold bedsheets. After a run and a shower she’d made breakfast, but the entire time she’d been bracing herself for Nick to walk through the door with the children for breakfast.

It hadn’t happened.

At seven thirty, Nick’s nautical tune had played on her phone. “Hi, Nick.”

“Mommy, we’re having café pancakes for breakfast!” Lucy said excitedly.

“How lovely!” Somehow, Libby managed to sound enthusiastic, despite the disparate emotions flooding her.

“I want to talk to Mommy!” Libby heard Indi demanding in the background. The usual wresting of the phone from her sister followed. “Hello, Mommy. Leo did a poo and it stinks.”

“That’s enough, Indi. Give me the phone, please,” Nick said.