‘Oh, that. It’s nothing. Just some weirdo doctor who doesn’t know what she’s talking about. So, I was looking at table centrepieces for the wedding today, and I really like the idea of—’

‘Lex, what are you not telling me?’ Dom interjects, his suspicion evident. ‘I know you well enough to know you’re glossing over something because you don’t want to discuss it. What’s going on?’

I consider trying to change the subject again, but I know that won’t work. Instead I opt for the only remaining avoidance strategy: a full-on character assassination of Dr Harlow.

‘Oh, look, it’s nothing. The consultant was on another planet. She sees a couple of smudges on a scan and jumps to conclusions. I mean, she couldn’t even get my name right. What’s that all about? I’ve asked for a second opinion.’

‘That doesn’t sound like nothing.’ Dom’s brow furrows in concern. ‘This woman is a fully trained consultant, surely?’

‘She was a proper neurologist. But she just wasn’t on it. Didn’t you hear me? She couldn’t even get my name right.’

‘Well, if that’s the case, maybe you do need a second opinion. And perhaps you should raise your concerns about her.’

‘That’s probably not necessary.’ I shut down that route quickly. ‘I just need to speak to someone I can trust and communicate with properly.’

‘Sounds fair enough.’ Dom rubs his forehead, a dead giveaway that he’s exhausted.

‘Long day?’

‘Tough day. A number of client cock-ups I had to bail my team out of. I should only be getting involved in the most complex issues, but we have so many new staff, I keep getting pulled into the detail.’

‘That’s rough.’ I beckon for his hand and he slips it into mine. ‘Maybe you should just get off home. I’m fine here. Bored and fidgety, but fine.’

‘No, I’ll stay for a bit.’ He squeezes my hand. ‘Want some time with my gorgeous wife-to-be before I head home to an empty apartment. It feels really empty without you.’

‘Hey, lover, it’s not like we haven’t had nights apart before. What’s this all about?’

Dom’s face has an undecipherable look on it. I’m used to being able to read him like a book, so this unsettles me slightly.

‘I don’t know.’ He smooths his palm against the side of his head as he does when he’s uncomfortable talking about something. ‘I just… when I got that call yesterday, I was terrified in case—’

‘It was just a stupid fall.’ I find myself wondering why I keep having to justify that to everyone. ‘Look at me. Do I look like you’re going to lose me?’

‘Well, no.’ Dom meets my gaze and I can tell he’s been really spooked by this. ‘You look a bit tired, but otherwise, just like the woman I proposed to.’

‘There you go, see. You can stop being silly now.’

‘OK, boss. How about I sort out that water jug then?’

‘Good thinking.’

He heads out of the room and makes his way down the corridor towards the nurses’ station. I lie quietly for a moment waiting for him to return, and as I do an unwelcome thought insinuates itself into my head: what if Dr Harlow isn’t mistaken? What if I do have MS?