DENVER
THREE WEEKS EARLIER
“Do you like it?Mommy said we can paint it daffodil yellow.”
My heart squeezes as Dixie takes the photograph of Lizzie and Rick out of the packing box and places it on the nightstand in her new bedroom.
“I think it’s a great room,” I say, resting my elbows on my thighs as I watch her unpack. “And yellow’s a good choice.”
“Daffodil,” Dixie corrects, always a stickler for details. She gets that from her father.
My eyes settle on the frame on her nightstand, and I’m lost in thought, transported back to the day I took it.
“This one’s a kicker,” Rick says, his face breaking in half with a grin as he rests his hand over Lizzie’s stomach.
She laughs and looks up at him.
That’s when I take the photo, capturing the look of excitement between them.
None of us could have ever known it would be the last photo taken of them together.
“You’ve got that look again.”
I glance up at Lizzie standing in the doorway, her hip cocked as she leans against the frame, watching me.
“What look?”
“That sad one.” She spins her finger in a circle, gesturing to my face.
“No sadness,” Dixie trills, happily skipping around her new room as she adds another trinket to a shelf.
They’re both incredible. I don’t know how they do it every day. But they do. Lizzie’s never been one to let life get her down, and Dixie’s inherited her positive nature. Losing Rick was one of the worst things to happen to them, but Lizzie’s always told me that she’s grateful for the time she had with him. And grateful that he gave her Dixie, despite him having to go before he even got to hold his own daughter.
I plaster what I hope is a less morose expression onto my face and Lizzie snorts.
“I guess that’s an improvement.”
She walks over and sits on the bed beside me. We watch Dixie together in silence for a few minutes as she happily continues unpacking and setting her new room up how she wants it.
“She’s excited to start her new school Monday,” Lizzie says quietly as Dixie runs from the room, saying she’s going to get another box.
“Yeah? That’s great.”
“It is,” Lizzie muses, a soft smile gracing her face. “I’ll send you a photo of her before I drop her off. And she can call you after to tell you about it.”
“Call me?”
Lizzie bumps her shoulder against mine in a move that’s so comfortable and familiar that a lump forms in my throat. “You’re not staying, Denver. You know it. I know it. Dixie knows it. I appreciate you flying over to help move us in. But?—”
“But it’s time I took my ugly ass back to New York?” I arch a brow at her.
She sighs. “I appreciate you more than I’ll ever be able to tell you in words. And Rick would be so proud to call you his friend.”
I clear my throat, willing the thick, aching lump in it to give me a fucking break.
“But we’re okay.We’ll be okay.”
“I’ve always been close to you both,” I say.
