Mom nods and looks over to me, still smiling. Her eyes are dull, no longer the vibrant green they once were. She lost all her hair when she underwent chemotherapy, so she’s wearing a beautiful silk scarf around her head. She’s still beautiful—she’ll always be beautiful—she just looks exhausted. The doctors have given her a few months, but they said she could go downhill at anytime.

That thought is terrifying. The very idea that each day with her could possibly be the last makes my stomach turn with a desperate need to do everything I can to prevent losing her. I can’t do anything, though. That’s just the cold hard truth of the matter. I can’t change the inevitable. We’ve exhausted all our options, and in the end, Mom has had enough.

“How’re you feeling today?” I ask her.

Her smile wobbles. “Not so great, but I’m managing.”

“The nurse still comes by on time weekly?”

She nods. “Yes, she’s wonderful.”

I give her a pained smile, sometimes I feel like I’m not here enough for her. Between working at night and looking after Imogen, I’m finding it hard to spend every second with her, like I wish I could be. “If you need anything, Mom, you know you can call me?”

She reaches over, grasping my hand. “I know sweetheart, but Immy has been sick.”

“I know, but I’ll always find the time to help.”

“You’re here every day, while trying to work and take care of her. You’re doing enough.”

I squeeze her hand. “How is work?” she questions.

“It’s fine, Mom. It’s easy enough.”

“Tina loves having Immy around.” She smiles.

Tina is my older sister and a lifesaver when it comes to working the few day shifts I occasionally get. She takes Immy and it saves me money trying to find a carer for her, or putting her in care. Besides, it makes me feel better knowing Immy is with family, and not in a new town, with new people she’s afraid of. Though I’m sure she’d do fine in care, I guess it’s more me that it upsets.

“I’m so glad they get to spend time together,” I finally say.

Mom nods. “Yes, it’s wonderful. We missed so much of her life.”

My smile wobbles, and Mom squeezes my hand again. “Have you seen Max?”

I shake my head. “No, and I really don’t want to right now.”

Her eyes grow sad. “You don’t think Immy deserves to know him?”

“I don’t know right now. He is a fighter, Mom. I’m not sure that he’s a good man and the last thing I want to do is introduce Immy to her dad, let her fall in love with him, and then have her heart broken if it goes wrong. I have to be very careful how I play this.”

Her eyes flash and she nods sadly. “You’re right about that, it’s best to take it slow because he has changed. A good deal.”

“You’ve seen him?”

“Once or twice around town. I haven’t spoken to him.”

My heart aches at the thought of seeing Max again. Seeing the face I loved so dearly. I still love him. I think I’ll always love him. He’s the kind of man you can’t just forget. He changed my life in so many ways—he gave me a daughter, and he was everything I could have ever wanted and more. Then he broke my heart.

“It’s probably for the best.”

Before she can answer, a knock sounds out at the door. She looks to me, narrows her eyes, and then stands and walks over, staring through the peephole. She makes a gasping sound, and then turns. “It’s as if he heard us speaking about him.”

My spine goes straight and I whisper, “He’s out there?”

She nods. I turn to Immy, who is still watching television. I can’t get her out without going through the front door, but I’m not ready to see Max. Not yet. I stand quickly, knocking over a chair. I rush over and grab Immy. She protests, but I quickly whisper, “Mommy has candy in the room! You want to share?”

“Oh yeah!” She smiles.

“Go into my room,” Mom whispers. “I’ll get rid of him.”

I rush Immy into Mom’s room, which isn’t far away. I grabbed my purse on the way and I’m digging out candy as I go. I shut the door quietly, and hand Immy a packet of candy. She starts busily opening it, and I walk over to the door, my heart is pounding so much I can feel it in my head. Boom. Boom. Boom.

“Max,” I hear mom say.

I really have to keep Immy quiet; the walls are like paper in this house.

“Heather,” he says, his voice low and thick.

My heart leaps into my throat and I fight the tears that burst into my eyes at the sound of his voice. It’s changed so much, yet it’s still the same. It seems thicker, gruffer, and deadlier.

“It’s been a long time.”

“You’re unwell,” he says. It’s not a question, but a fact. “I didn’t realize. I’m sorry about Jason; I heard he passed a while back.”

Mom is silent for a while, and then says, “Yes, he did, and thank you for your kind words. I’m not well, no. I’m dying.”

More silence.

“Jesus, fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

She sighs. “I wouldn’t expect you to, Max. Now why are you here?”

“Is she still in town?”

I swallow the lump forming in my throat, and try to fight the tears.

“Yes, she is, but she doesn’t want to see you, and I think it’s best for everyone if it stays that way.”

“I just want to see that she’s okay. I’m not going to bother her. Tell me where she is . . . so I can just . . . see her.”

A tear bubbles forth and I swipe it away quickly.

“I can’t do that, Max. You know I can’t.”

He mutters a silent curse. “Is she okay? At least tell me she’s okay. It’s all I want to know.”

He just wants to see if I’m okay. He doesn’t want to see me, or talk to me, just check to make sure he didn’t break me for good. That hurts. It hurts more than I’d ever thought it would. Since he found out I was back, Max hasn’t come after me, so I don’t know what I truly thought would happen, but I guess I thought he’d want more than to just see if I’m surviving.

“She’s doing well, Max. She’s managed to pick herself up and move on.”

Oh God, she knows that’s not true, but I know why she’s saying it and I’m grateful for her lie.

Max is silent.

“I’m glad,” he says, his voice sounding raspier.

He sounds hurt. My heart burns.

“If she wants to see you, Max, she will but I ask you . . . please don’t push this.”

“I get it,” he mutters. “I won’t push, but . . . tell her I came by, will you? I’d like to talk to her, to finish this properly. The fact is we’re still married, and eventually we have to work out where to go from there.”

“I’m sure being married hasn’t stopped you from having relationships in the past five years, Maximus,” Mom says, her voice a little icy. “Therefore, a divorce can be given over the mail. She will see you if she wants to see you.”

“The relationships I’ve had since then are my business. As for the divorce over the mail, we both know it’s not that easy. I’m still living in a house with her fucking things in it,” he snaps.