Mathilde has shown a pattern for the last month. Her treatment includes a series of pills she must take; two in the morning, and two at night, and then there's a shot she's given every two weeks. The first week after the shot, she can't even muster the strength to move out of bed. Around day eight, she starts gradually feeling better, and by day ten or eleven she starts feeling better and better, until soon enough it's time for the new shot.

Of course I stay close to her at all times except to take Jeanne to and from school, doing all necessary groceries on the way back. This of course brought all kinds of complaints from Mathilde, because she says I'm stuck at home and that I need to see Ian more, and to be honest, maybe she's right. I don't really have the time to set back and think too much about anything because taking care of Mom is a full-time job. Even though we tried contacting Meredith, not expecting her to lend us a hand with her mother but mostly to let her know how bad she is; we never managed to talk to her directly. I shouldn't be allowed to feel this way when Mathilde is this bad, but I'm exhausted.

And that's how I allow myself to call Ian, since the new shot comes tomorrow morning and Mathilde is in her best condition possible, although it isn't really saying much.

I admit, he calls every single night to check out on us, but it's pretty much the first time I call him myself ever since the surgery.

So with Mathilde's blessing, and given that I won't budge on her idea to go out with him for dinner, I invite him to visit us at home. He arrives just in time for dinner, at half past eight. Looking around the living room to check that Jeanne isn't around; he leans in and kisses me gently. That's when I realize how much I missed him and how long it's been since we last met like this.

"Is Ian here, Mom?" Jeanne's head is now peeking from the kitchen's arch, and she literally beams at us when she sees him. She rushes her way to us and Ian swiftly lifts her in his strong arms.

"Hey there, young lady."

"I hope you're hungry, mister." She says, comfortable in his arms. "I helped Mom cook tonight."

"I'm so looking forward to it, Jeanne!"

"It's a vegetable lasagna, because Granny can't eat meat."

And speaking of Granny, her wheelchair rolls its way to us.

"If it isn't our handsome Ian!" She gives him a cheerful smile, but it disappears when she faces me. "I've been telling this stubborn woman to invite you to the house for weeks, but does she ever listen to anything I say?"

His happy smile turns warmer as he puts Jeanne back to her feet and bends a little taking Mathilde's hand in his. It's amazing that he doesn't flinch seeing Mathilde as she looks right now, extremely thin, and with her eyes dark and sunken in her wrinkled face. Most people do.

"It's so good to see you again. How are you feeling?"

"With ups and downs, my dear." Ian has a way with Mathilde too, same he had with Jeanne and me. Mathilde loves him just as much as we do even if she's seen him only a couple of times. "But let's not stand here. Would you mind pushing my chair to the kitchen?"

And dinner goes perfectly, everyone loves the lasagna Jeanne helped me prepare, and she looks particularly proud of it. Ian is funny as hell and not even once we talk about Mathilde's condition, which is a first since I can remember. But soon Mathilde excuses herself to leave, and it's time for Jeanne to go to bed too. But then Ian interrupts us.

"May I have one last word with all of you before you go? There's something I want to say, and I was wishing you all were present for it."

"So serious all of a sudden... Is everything all right?" Mathilde's concern takes over her whole face, and her wrinkles suddenly seem to multiply.

"Yes! Everything's perfect." He says, but there's unease in his voice. There's a small pause where we are all expecting his next words. He takes a deep breath and finally speaks. "Maybe this isn't the right time, and if you think so, please let me know, but I think I won't get a better chance than this... Cynthia, I think it would be great to ask this in front of all your family."

In my periphery, I can see Jeanne and Mathilde exchanging a knowing look and a pleased smile. But he can't be about to say what I think he's about to say, is he? Then he continues.

"Would you marry me, Cynthia?"

Jeanne squeals, and Mathilde lets out her happiest and most pleased laugh. Ian wears a coy smile, and soon he remembers to produce a beautiful engagement ring from his pocket. I look at the ring and at him, back and forth, as if the whole question was said in a foreign language. He really proposed to me, didn't he?

Jeanne jumps off her chair and runs around the table, clinging to my leg.

"You have to answer, Mom!" She says, because she's sure I'd say yes. But I'm not so sure myself.

"Ian, I have to decline."

And everyone goes mum at this, of course. All the happy faces crumble like broken pottery.

"You're not going to use me as an excuse, are you?" Mathilde is the first to recover from my blow, of course, and she's already wearing her usual scolding apron. "If you are, I'm kicking your sorry ass with my stump!"

"Don't take me wrong, guys." I say, quickly turning to Ian. "You know I'm really happy to know you want me in your life, and I'm so glad I can't even start to explain how much. I'd love to say yes, because I love you, I love you so much... But I can't worry about a wedding while Mathilde is in this condition. I'll definitely say yes when she's better if you still want me. But right now I can't do it, Ian. I'm so sorry..."

Mathilde lets out a guttural groan, and Jeanne lets my leg go. I can see the deep disappointment in their faces, which makes me feel even guiltier. But Ian finds his smile again. He walks up to me and scoops me in a tight hug.

"I'll wait as much as it takes, Cynthia. Don't worry about a thing."

"Oh, Ian..." I find the courage to hug him back, because this man is proving yet again how extraordinary he is. "I'm so sorry, my dear Ian."

He puts a finger to my lips, which he quickly replaces with a sweet kiss.

"I waited for so long for this, honey." Cupping my face in both hands, he kisses my forehead. "I can wait until you're ready."

And I don't doubt it. He's been waiting since we were kids, after all.

"Are you sure, Ian?"

"Yes, Mom. He is. Geez..." Jeanne walks up to Ian and hugs his waist, giving him her cutest smile. "Don't worry, Ian. It's as Granny says: she's just too thick-headed."

And then they all laugh at my expense. Except, this time I'm not mad. Ihave been blessed, after so long, with such a loving family.