“Advice on what? I’m not an expert on anything. She’s mad.”

“Sort of like, musings…about things you’ve realized while you’ve been sick. What’s important in life and what’s not. You now don’t focus so much on the materialistic stuff. That kind of thing.”

“No.”

“Just think about it.”

“I don’t need to. It sounds like an extraordinary waste of the little time I have left. In fact, the whole thing does. Cancel the wedding. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

With some effort, I roll over in bed and bury my head in my pillow so they can’t see the tears that trickle across the bridge of my nose to leave damp patches on my pillowcase.

Amanda clears her throat. “I think maybe we should give Ava some space.”

A hand gently strokes my hair. I don’t know who it belongs to but I’m assuming it’s Mum. Sure enough. “Is that what you want, love?” she asks. “Or do you want me to stay?”

I know I’m being a brat, and that these three women would do anything humanly possible for me and therefore do not deserve to be treated the way I am treating them. But I also know that because they love me they won’t take offense, no matter what I throw at them.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble into my pillow. “I didn’t sleep well. Maybe a nap might help.”

“OK.” Mum kisses me on the head and I feel her weight lift off the bed. Before she leaves the room, though, she pauses. “Do we need to see Dr. Harrison about increasing your pain medication? Is that what kept you awake?”

“No,” I lie. “The pain is fine, Mum.”

She sighs deeply. “You’re lying, Ava Green. I know you, remember? But we’ll discuss it later. Sweet dreams, baby girl.”

The door closes.

When I wake up the room is dark, and I realize I have slept the afternoon away. Regret floods in quickly. More time wasted. It is hard not to jealously protect the days when days may be all I have left. Not years, I know that much. But weeks, months? How long is a piece of string? A wrinkle in time? A ripple in the ocean?

The house is quiet. Too quiet. I think they have all gone out and left me and I am confused. But then I hear soft murmurings of noise drifting in through the French doors, and smell something that gets my stomach rumbling.

The back lawn is lit up with the light of a thousand fairy lights. They are strung from tree to tree, along the deck, and even around the clothesline. The barbecue is fired up and the smell of sausages is heavy in the air. The picnic table has been set and has candles in jars along the center. I can see that Kate has picked some of her prized roses from the front garden and they are arranged prettily in a jar in the middle. It is a magical sight that takes my breath away and I emit a soft “Oh!” that makes the assembled people turn. There are more bodies in the shadows than there should be, and I wonder who else is here.