The day after the gala, someone rings our doorbell at seven AM.
Liam's in the shower. I'm making coffee in pajamas, hair a mess, makeup from last night still smudged under my eyes. Not expecting company. Definitely not expecting who's standing in the hallway when I open the door.
Evelyn.
But not the Evelyn I know. This one looks older. Frailer. Like she's aged years in the weeks since I last saw her.
"I'm sorry," she says immediately. "I know it's early. I should have called. But I needed to see you. To tell you something before, before I can't anymore."
My stomach drops. "Come in. Sit down. What's wrong?"
She follows me inside. Sits carefully on the couch like her bones might break. I pour her coffee with shaking hands.
"I'm sick," she says without preamble. "Cancer. Stage four. Th
