During that last summer, as if in punishment for being happy, Kate was diagnosed with cervical cancer.

The last time we used the wishing stone was at the hospital the morning she died.

On that day, all three of us made a silent wish, certain the others had wished the same. Kate died that afternoon and I never thought about it again. It was the last time I believed in magic, in love or in the existence of God.

Then, after three miserable lonely years, the unthinkable, a second chance... Warwick.