You love your best friend. You trust her with your life.
But could you give her the most precious gift of all?
Alexâs life is a mess. Sheâs barely holding down a job, only just affording her apartment, and canât remember when she was last in a relationship. An unexpected pregnancy is the last thing she needs.
Marthaâs life is on track. Sheâs got the high-flying career, the gorgeous home and the loving husband. But one big thing is missing. Five rounds of IVF and still no baby.
The solution seems simple.
Alex knows that Martha can give her child everything that she canât provide.
But Marthaâs world may not be as perfect as it seems, and letting go isnât as easy as Alex expected it to be.
Now they face a decision that could shatter their friendship for ever.
Provocative. Emotional. Affecting.
Share This Fragile Life with your best friend.
This Fragile Life
Kate Hewitt
Copyright
HQ
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2013
Copyright © Kate Hewitt 2013
Kate Hewitt asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authorâs imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
E-book Edition © June 2013 ISBN: 9781472017109
Version date: 2018-07-23
After spending three years as a diehard New Yorker, KATE HEWITT now lives in the Lake District with her husband, five children, and Golden Retriever. She enjoys such novel things as long country walks and chatting with people in the street, and her children love the freedom of village lifeâalthough Kate often has to ring four or five people to figure out where theyâve gone off to!
She writes womenâs fiction as well as contemporary romance for Mills & Boon Modern, and whatever the genre she enjoys delivering a compelling and intensely emotional story. Find out more about her books at www.kate-hewitt.com.
Itâs not good news. It never has been, so at least Iâm expecting it and itâs easier to take. Except maybe it isnât, because after I disconnect the call I bow my head and press my fingers to my temples and then I do something I never do. I cry.
I can hear the snuffling sobs Iâm still trying to suppress echoing through the empty bathroom stalls at work. They sound awful. I sound awful, like some completely pathetic nutcase instead of what I am, which is a highly successful advertising executive with everything Iâve ever wanted.
Except a baby.
âCome on, Martha,â I say aloud. âPull yourself together.â And it almost works, my little self-scolding, except another sob tears at my chest and comes out of my mouth, an animal sound I absolutely hate. Plus Iâve got snot dripping down my chin; if anyone saw me theyâd think I was falling apart. And Iâm not. I am absolutely not.
âPull yourself together, damn it,â I snap, and my voice is a sharp crack in the silence, a warning shot. I take another deep breath, tuck my hair behind my ears, and let myself out of the stall.
I stare starkly at my reflection because Iâve never been one to shy away from the harsh truths. Like the fact that Iâm thirty-six and have gone through five rounds of IVF and none have worked. Iâm essentially infertile, and Iâm not going to have a baby of my own.
Thatâs too much to take right now, so I focus on the immediate damage. My reflection. My make-up is a mess, my supposedly waterproof mascara giving me raccoon eyes. My lipstick is gone, and there are marks on my lip where Iâve bitten it. I donât remember when.
I set about repairing the worst of it. I take a travel-sized bottle of make-up remover and my make-up bag out of my purse. I even have cotton balls, because I am always prepared. Always organized, always with a to-do list and a bullet-point plan, and within a few minutes my make-up is repaired, and I fish through my purse for my eye drops since my eyes look pretty reddened and bloodshot. Iâve thought of everything.