Dear Diary,

Life cannot get better, and guess what? My last test came back, and this treatment actually seems to be working. No new growth and still no symptoms, which is fabulous news! Maybe all I needed was Connor’s love to cure me. A girl can wish, right?

Mackenzie

Mackenzie

I've had the best month of my life. Every day has been spent either texting, meeting for a quick lunch, or spending the night wrapped in Connor’s arms. There’s never an awkward pause, and when we're not in the mood to talk, we're happy to enjoy the silence with him working and me reading.

I'm preparing dinner at his place when my phone rings. It’s the treatment center. I moved my treatments so I could have lunch with Connor every day. They said it was a stretch for them to fit me in, but I thought it was working for them so I'm really hoping they're not calling to switch me back.

"Hi, Mackenzie?"

"Hey, Rachel. What's going on?" She’s the head nurse I've gotten to know very well.

Every nurse and doctor within the study is super nice, but Rachel and I seemed to click the most. When I go in, she sits with me, talking about everything under the sun. She keeps me company so sitting as still as possible doesn't drive me absolutely insane.

She sighs, and the sound turns my stomach instantly. "Do you have a second?"

I turn off the stove and sit on a stool at the breakfast bar. "Everything okay?" I ask, getting straight to the point.

"It breaks my heart to tell you this but no, everything isn't okay."

"Why? What happened?" My nerves start the get the best of me, and my heart races faster with every second she doesn't respond. "I'm so sorry to tell you this, but the FDA has started asking a lot of questions and putting up red flags that they weren't going to approve our study, so our partners yanked the funding."

My heart stops beating, and I can’t breathe. Thoughts rush through my head, all leading to one thing: this can’t be happening.

"Oh no. But. I mean, um, what does this mean for me? Do I get to finish? We just barely started," I whisper, trying to hold back tears.

The treatments were supposed to happen over an eight-month span, and I'm hardly finished with my second month.

"All our material and research belongs to our funding partner, so when they pulled the plug, they took it. That way, if they ever get the FDA issues cleared up, they would be able to pick up where we left off."

"But what does this mean for me?" I ask.

"I wish I had better news. Your best treatment option now is radiation and chemo," she states with obvious pain. "I'm so sorry, Kenzie. I was really hoping you would be our first case to beat this nasty tumor."

My lip trembles. Things were going so well.

My life? Connor? My hands shake, and I think I’m going to throw up.

"Marcus is calling everyone else, but I wanted to be the one to tell you. I mean it, Kenzie. You were going to be my reason to open that bottle of champagne I've been saving to celebrate this study when we kicked your cancer’s ass."

I let out a tiny laugh.

"You'll keep in touch, right?"

"Yeah," I say, choking on tears.

"Well. I'll let you go. I'm really sorry."

"I know," I whisper. "Bye, Rachel."

I hang up and sob. I haven’t had any symptoms, so I assumed things were going well. I started to believe I was going to be okay. I thought I would be cured.

That feeling of security just disappeared.

A few minutes later, Connor walks through the door, takes one look at me, and says, "Kenzie, what's wrong?"

My face is covered in the ugliest tears I'm sure he's ever seen. Why? Why is this happening to me? Why now?

"Baby, please tell me what happened. Why are you crying?"

I gather myself, taking a few breaths. We were both hopeful about the study and envisioned the treatments curing my cancer. Now all hope is lost. I can’t bring myself to say it out loud so instead I say, "They're canceling the study."

"What? How?" he asks, shocked.

"Something with the FDA. They lost their funding," I whisper through my trembling jaw.

"So what does that mean? What happens next?" He strokes my hair in the most loving and calming way.

"It means my chances are over. It's only a matter of time before I die, and if I don’t do chemo and radiation, it will happen sooner."

"What do you mean if? Isn't that what you have to do?"

The tears have stopped, but my heart is breaking in two. I want life. I want it with him. How long do I have?

"There's really no point. There’s no cure. Treatment might prolong my life, but in the end I’ll still die."

"But so does everyone at some point. Why not take the chance? You have to try, Kenzie."

"Connor," I whisper before closing my eyes as more tears well up.

"You have to try, Kenzie," he pleads.

“I already decided a long time ago that I wouldn't put myself through that. That's why I was part of the study. I don't want my last months to be spent in a hospital or sick in bed. I know it will happen already why make it happen earlier than it should?"

“Because you have me now,” he whispers as he pulls me into him. It’s almost as if he meant to say it to himself and not out loud.

My arms go around him, holding on for dear life as I sob into his chest.

* * *

When I wake up, my eyes are almost swollen shut from crying. I was an absolute mess until Connor wrapped me in his arms, making love to me like he never has before.

Every movement was considerate, every kiss was meaningful, and when we both reached climax, it was the most beautiful moment of my life. The love radiating off him was more than I ever imagined.

I reach out, wanting to feel his comfort once more, only I find nothing but an empty bed next to me. It’s two in the morning, and I wonder where Connor could be.

After wrapping a blanket around me, I wander into the living room. He’s sitting at the kitchen table, with his laptop and printer set up and multiple stacks of paper littering the surrounding space.

He doesn’t notice me standing there. He’s squinting at the screen and chewing on a pencil, looking back and forth between the screen and a paper next to him.

His vision turns to the paper and his finger scans it like he’s searching in anticipation, I’m taken by surprise when he yells, “Fuck,” and throws his pencil across the room.

The yelp I release gives away my presence. “What's wrong?” I ask, almost afraid to move toward him.

“I’m sorry if I woke you,” he says. “Go back to bed. I’ll be there soon.” He dismisses me, which raises red flags.

“Something wrong with a case?” I ask, crossing the room toward him.

He’s looking at the Mayo Clinic’s page on glioblastoma and every piece of paper on the table is about my cancer.

“Connor,” I whisper.

“I have to do this. This is what I’m good at. I solve mysteries, I find the truth. I’ll find a cure. You’ll be fine. If I just research it more. I’ll talk to Alan. He’ll help me. I know he will. I just have to get everything together, learn as much as I can. I’m trying to find the study, what they were doing. Then I can find another investor. I know there’s money out there.”

He’s rambling, not making sense. I lean down so I’m at his level.

“Connor, look at me,” I demand.

“I can’t, baby. I have to work. I can’t stop now, I’m so close. Look, I have—”

He reaches for a piece of paper, and I stop him, cupping his face in my hands. “Connor, please. There’s nothing you can do.”

“Yes, there is. This is why I’m such a good lawyer. I always find the answer.”

“You can’t solve this, Connor. It’s not a case.”

He stands up in anger. “Yes I can! I will find a cure. I have to.” He looks at me, realization hitting him hard. “I can’t lose you…” he says in horror as he starts to shake.

I throw my arms around him, and he pulls me close, burying his head in my shoulder as he cries. He clings to me with every bit of his being.

“I love you, Mackenzie. Please don’t leave me,” he says through sobs.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I’m putting you through this. I’m sorry I’ve brought you this pain,” I cry.

Unfortunately, my plea only makes him cry harder.