He bends down and presses his lips firmly against my forehead, and it’s only when I feel his tears on my skin that I realize he is crying too. Then he whispers, so softly it is like the breath of a newborn child.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

I go home a little over a week later, once they have brought my symptoms under control and updated my medicine regime. With no fanfare, I slip quietly out through the hospital doors with James on one side and my mother on the other, my dad bringing up the rear under the weight of my bag and a ragtag assortment of floral arrangements sent by well-wishers. While I appreciate their efforts, I wish they wouldn’t send flowers. Watching them brown, shrivel up, and die is a daily reminder I don’t need. My father must sense this because somewhere on the journey home between the hospital, the chemist, and the grocery store, they disappear.

My parents have spent the last week getting to know James. To their credit, they’ve kept the usual interrogation a new boyfriend might expect to a minimum. This is not a typical relationship. There is only one thing they really need to know when it boils down to it.

Does he make you happy?

Yes. Deliriously so.

Welcome to the family, James.

I am so enthused about James moving in with me that it’s only when I walk into my bedroom and the smell of disinfectant and bleach hits that I remember the details of that night. All the feelings of fear that I felt come rushing back, leaving me curled up on a bed with brand-new sheets and duvet, crying hot tears because I know that I am well and truly screwed. That nothing is fair, and my so-called life is winding down. I am heading rapidly toward the End of My Days. And there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

James curls his body around mine and we stay like that, for hours, while the others keep a discreet distance somewhere else in the house and pretend they can’t hear my gut-wrenching sobs through the walls. At some point, exhausted, I sleep. When I wake, James is gone, and the space where he was has cooled. I go in search, needing him with a ferocity that is unfair to him. He is my life jacket to cling to, my anchor in a storm. As unreasonable as it is, I don’t want to be without him at my side.

They are all in the lounge with the French doors open wide. I can feel the heat as soon as I walk into the room. Summer is well and truly upon us. I go to where James is sitting on a La-Z-Boy and drape myself across him, despite the heat. The prospect of death has made me needy.

“How are you feeling?” Mum asks, getting to her feet. “I’ll get you a glass of water.”