“No! We’re not animals in a zoo, okay? We came here for dinner and to be left the fuck alone!”

His anger . . . it was so rare, so unlike him, her heart was thudding sickly, and if she wasn’t really careful, she’d cry, which wouldn’t help anything. Everyone was staring. “Can we cancel the rest of our order?” she asked, and the waiter nodded and scurried away. “Josh. Come on. We’re leaving.”

Rigid with fury, he let her take his arm, and they walked back toward their suite. His strides were long, and she was out of breath before they’d made it ten yards. “Okay, enough,” she said sharply. “I can’t keep up. Can you slow down, please?”

He jerked to a stop. “They had no fucking business—”

“Josh! Knock it off! They were trying to do something nice, that’s all.”

“I don’t care.”

He wasn’t mad at the offer. He was angry because . . . because she was sick. Because life wasn’t fair. And Josh wasn’t good with anger. It flummoxed him, confused him, ate at him.

“Sweetheart, go for long walk or run, okay? I know you’re upset. Just . . . burn it off. I’m gonna go to the bar and eat and read, and I’ll see you when you’re . . . over this.”

“Fine.” He strode off, and Lauren went back to the restaurant, apologized to the waiter, left him a big tip and went to the bar, collapsing into a booth, winded and distressed, trying not to cry.

She wasn’t mad at him. She was heartbroken for him. Those people had touched a nerve by singling them out, and all Josh wanted was for them to be a normal couple, in love, enjoying each other.

Not a couple with a clock ticking. Not a couple where one would be left alone.

How could she do this to him? How could she help him, her beautiful loner husband? What would happen to him? He had told her she was his first love. “My one and only,” he’d said. But in a year or three or ten, he’d be a widower. Being alone by choice was one thing. Her death . . . it could ruin him. She could ruin the person she loved best in the world.

She went back to the empty suite and got ready for bed. She missed Pebbles. She missed Josh. She missed her sister. The skylight above their bed showed the vast, starlit sky, and tears trickled out of her eyes and into the pillow.

But sleep wasn’t a choice as much as a necessity, and the bed was huge and white and cool, and within minutes, she was asleep.

Sometime later, she woke up to Josh getting into bed. He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s okay.”

“I sent flowers to that couple,” he said. “And a gift certificate to the spa.”

She smiled against his chest. “Did you apologize?”

“I did. In a note.”

She kissed him. “You’re a good guy, Joshua Park.”

“I’m an idiot.”

“No. You get to be upset.”

“I love you.” His voice was rough.

“I know, honey. I know.”

The stars burned in the sky, so bright on this moonless night it felt like a message. She kissed him again, more intently, suddenly aching for him, and tugged at his T-shirt. Her beautiful Josh. He cradled her face in his hands and kissed her back, and tonight, they were more in love than ever before, desperate for each other, complete only with each other, hearts thumping, mouths seeking and finding, their bodies joined in the shelter of the bed.

He fell asleep after, exhausted from his rare anger, from their lovemaking.

She suddenly knew what to do. How to look after Josh when she was gone. As quietly as she could, she slipped out of bed and found her notebook.

* * *

THERE WERE A few things she wanted to do on this little trip. Snorkel and swim in the clear water. Take a horseback ride. Sleep in the hammock that was strung between two trees. Watch a porno. Hey! “Adult Selections” was part of the cable package that came with their suite, and she’d never seen one before. Clitty Clitty Bang Bang looked promising, even if it did ruin her childhood with its title alone.

Josh arranged everything. He had a hammock set up in the little garden that led to the beach. Shade, an arrangement of tropical flowers in a vase, a bottle of champagne. “My queen,” he said. “A nap on the beach awaits you.”

“Oh! How fabulous! A dream come true,” she said.

She climbed into the hammock, and Josh set her oxygen next to her and adjusted the cannula. He covered her with a soft blanket, because even though it was eighty degrees, she got cold easily. Then he sat on the lawn beside her, looking out at the gentle azure ocean. She reached out and stroked his hair, which gleamed in the sun. “I never knew anyone could ever love me as much as you do,” she said.

He looked at the grass, then back up at her, and those dark-lit eyes were shiny with tears. “Same here,” he whispered. “Same here. And you never know. I could die first. Get hit by a bus.”

“Look both ways, loser. The world needs you. Besides, when you’re a widower, maybe Beyoncé will be free.”

“I’d rather have one hour with you than a million days with Beyoncé.”

“Oh, please. You’re lying. I’d take Beyoncé in a heartbeat.” She traced his adorable ear with one finger. “You’re married to a woman with a terminal illness. Our life is a catastrophe.”

“Now that you bring it up, you are kind of a loser.”

She snorted. “Ah, well. What was on that card from Mean Debi? ‘It’s not about counting the days; it’s about making each day count.’”

“I just threw up in my mouth.”

“I hear you. Let’s stop talking about death. It’s a beautiful day. I’m sorry I’m so maudlin today. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”