A knock on the door woke her from her light sleep and she stood up, brushing down her summer dress and slipping her feet into her flip flops. She stretched her arms above her head, stifling a yawn that pressed against her chest.

She opened the door and saw Michael stood there with what looked like a takeaway in his hands, a bottle of wine visible at the top of the bag. He wore well fitted trousers and a dark blue shirt, his face lit up by his smile.

"Hi," she smiled, "Come in."

He looked at her for a moment, before kissing her cheek and stepping inside, "You look fantastic Connie," he told her gently, making her smile.

"You know what I thought today?" He asked, following her to the table outside and watching as she laid out plates and cutlery,

"hmm?" She replied, looking up at him, her freckles clearly visible from the warm sun,

"I can't remember the last time I saw you eat something," he replied, daring her to argue with him. She watched as he placed his spoon into the korma, placing the steaming hot meal onto her plate.

"I eat," she replied eventually as she sat on the chair that he pulled out for her,

"I know," he admitted, "But not as much as you should,"

She dipped her head and exhaled strongly, before shrugging her shoulders,

She watched as he sat down close to her, his hand resting gently on her leg, "I'm not getting at you, I'm just concerned," he told her softly,

She sipped her wine, "You have nothing to be concerned about," she admitted, "I go off food when I'm stressed… I always have… it's just something I don't really think about. I know I should eat more… I just find it such an effort, when I don't really fancy anything,"

He nodded, "Okay… how are you holding up?"

She placed her fork down and shrugged, before tearing off some the naan and dipping it into the sauce on his place, "I'm holding up," she admitted, "just about… the chemotherapy knocks her for six… she's constantly tired, constantly vomiting, yet she doesn't complain… Sam doesn't know how to react, and…" She shrugs, "I just feel so tired and… and sad," she sighed, "Sorry Michael, this is so different than how we used to argue and fight and wind each other up… I've become someone even I'm not familiar with,"

As they finished eating, he took her hand in his and tilted his head, "Come and sit with me," he asked her, pulling her gently so she sat on his lap. She smiled at him, watching him as he ran his fingertips ever so gently across her collar bones,

"I want to kiss you," he told her quietly, his American accent making her shiver,

"I won't stop you," she smiled, watching him as he watched her so intently,

"You are so beautiful Connie," he told her, pressing his lips gently against her mouth, "I hate seeing your eyes so filled with sadness…. I want to make you happy again." She inhaled as he pressed soft kisses against her top, then bottom lip. She opened her mouth, her tongue battling with his as he kissed her. His mouth travelled over her neck, before trailing across her collarbone and over her shoulder. He slipped the straps of her dress down over her shoulders, before doing the same to her bra strap. His right hand slipped into her bra, as his mouth covered her nipple. She heard the creak of the stairs and pulled her straps back up, kissing his mouth hard once more, before slipping from his lap onto her own chair.

"Mum…" Grace called quietly,

"Out here baby," Connie replied, trying to control her erratic breathing, before holding out her hand to her daughter, who took it and curled up onto her lap, "What's the matter Gracie?"

"I've been sick again," she admitted, "There's blood everywhere…"