Page 13 of Take a Moment

Dom’s face immediately drains of colour. ‘I’m sorry. Did you just say—’

‘It’s fine, Dom,’ I interrupt. ‘It’s a misdiagnosis. There’s no way I have MS. I mean, look at the way I live my life. If I was ill, do you think I’d manage all that?’

‘Alex, I know this is very difficult for you,’ says Dr Salessi. ‘But I have reviewed the scans, as well as Dr Harlow’s notes, and I very much support her diagnosis. I will of course perform the same neurological examination but the scan itself provides enough evidence of the disease. It also explains your fatigue, the clumsiness you describe, and why you experienced double vision before your fall.’

I look at Dom, who’s staring straight ahead, completely bewildered, then focus my attention on Dr Salessi.

‘I’m sorry, I just can’t accept what you’re telling me. The anomalies must be related to my concussion. I need another opinion – from a different hospital altogether. What do I need to do to arrange this?’

‘Alex, you are in shock, which is a normal reaction.’ Dr Salessi’s tone is kind and empathetic. ‘You can request other opinions. We can even redo the scan once your concussion has subsided. Unfortunately, it is not going to change the outcome.’

‘But I need—’

‘Lex,please stop.’ Dom suddenly comes back to life. ‘You’re not helping yourself. I completely understand your wish for this to go away. I want it to go away. But it’s not going to, no matter how hard you push. It’s clear that the doctor knows what he’s talking about, and two people can’t be wrong.’

He grabs my hand and squeezes it, his eyes slightly pink round the edges from the emotion he’s trying to suppress.

‘You’ve got MS, Lex, and the sooner you accept the diagnosis, the sooner we can get you the support you need. I’m so sorry, kitten. I’m sobloody sorry.’

I look into Dom’s big blue eyes, which are now filling with tears, and I can’t speak. I can’t think. I’m completely lost.

‘I will give you a few minutes alone.’ Dr Salessi discreetly moves away and disappears behind the curtain out of sight.

‘Dom?’ I whisper. ‘Is this really happening?’

He leaps up from his seat and envelops me in his big strong arms. ‘It is. I’m so sorry. I really am.’

A lump of emotion forms in my throat; it’s so intense that it hurts trying to hold it at bay. ‘What did I do wrong, Dom? What? Tell me.’

He pulls me closer. ‘You didn’t do anything wrong, Lex. Don’t ever, ever think that. Life is just so damn cruel sometimes.’

‘But I just… I can’t even…’

I cling to him as I try to process this information. I’m ill.Really ill.And the only way is downhill. I’m going to lose my physical abilities, my independence, perhaps even my confidence and self-esteem as my body breaks down bit by bit. What does this mean for my career, my future? Our future. Normally when I have a problem, I solve it. Or Dom helps me solve it. We’re the ultimate pragmatists, perfectly matched in every way.

Except that’s just changed. Because I’m not going to be able to keep up. And I don’t want to hold Dom back. I don’t want him to have to become… my carer. I can’t bear the thought of being a burden on him. Will he even want to marry me now? Why would he? We can’t have the future we were so looking forward to together. I’m broken and no one can fix me.

This uncharacteristic whirlwind of thoughts becomes too much for me and I finally break down in tears: huge, heartbreaking sobs, causing Dom to pull me in tighter.

‘It’s OK, kitten. Just cry.’ He soothes me. ‘We’ll get through this together. It doesn’t change anything. It’s you and me against it all, I promise.’

As I listen to his words, it has the opposite effect of what he intended. I don’t feel safe or secure. I feel vulnerable and exposed. Because as much as he says that this doesn’t change a thing, it already has. The balance in our relationship has shifted for ever. The only question that remains is – will it survive?

Chapter 6

‘You OK?’ Dom slams the driver’s door of our double-parked BMW 3 Series and canters round to the passenger side to help me out of the car.

‘I’m fine.’ I pull my hand away from his. ‘I can manage.’

I haul myself out of the car, trying to hide how much this simple action is taking out of me. My muscles feel like dead weights and I’m panting heavily; way too much for what should be very light exertion.

Dom hovers in front of me looking helpless. I can see how much he wants to step in and help. ‘I’ll need to park the car properly. Will you be OK getting up the stairs?’

‘Yes. Go.’ I usher him away, relieved he won’t be around to witness my sorry ascent to our third-floor tenement apartment.

He hesitates for a moment, then makes his way back to the driver’s side of the car and speeds away, keen to get parked and back to me as quickly as possible.

By the time I’ve climbed the five steps to the main door, I’m out of breath again, so I lean against the metal railing, noticing for the first time what a beautiful day it is – the sky is the bluest of blue, not a single cloud in sight. It’s the kind of day that would normally have me itching to pound the tarmac with my Nikes, then laze the afternoon away with Dom or Sasha in a beer garden on Ashton Lane. Instead, I’m facing a day on the sofa, watching my way through a box set on Netflix.

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