It hit him straight out of the blue.

No one had told him she was even sick! The last time he’d seen her . . . it had been, what? A year ago? Eighteen months at most, and she’d been thriving. She’d looked great. She’d said the gallery was making more money than she’d ever thought it could – because galleries didn’t make money very often, right? But hers was, and he was pleased for her. Despite all of their arguments, all twenty million of them, they had parted ways amicably in the end for the sake of the children.

He’d kept in touch with them both too, with Buffy and, um, Dawn. Regular phone calls three times a week and fortnightly visits until Buffy said she was too busy with her social life for them.

Why hadn’t he still visited Dawn? He honestly couldn’t remember. There had been that big compound settlement with Oristica two years ago. Had that been why?

Whatever the reason he felt gutted. Neither of his children had even bothered to tell him their mom was so sick she could die at any minute. Like he didn’t have a right to know!?

He still loved her for being the mother of his children. Still loved her for being an amazing individual. Maybe they had just got married too soon – straight out of college.

He would never know now. Why hadn’t anyone told him she was sick?