He nods. Doesn’t touch me. Doesn’t push. Just stands beside me for a long moment, watching the way the breeze catches the edge of the photo wall.
“I still expect him to walk in and take over the grill.” He nods toward where Jalen and Matt have taken up Owen’s post.
I close my eyes. “Me too.”
It’s quiet.
And then slowly, quietly, his fingers brush mine. I don’t stop them.
Not yet.
“Want to go check out the rest of the party?”
He nods.
I lead the way out into the backyard. It’s strung with twinkle lights, the good wine is flowing, and Harper is blasting the playlist that she spent hours putting together last night. It reminds me way too much of my college frat party days. Neighbors, friends, and family are laughing. Dancing. Singing. Marin’s actuallysmiling at her phone and keeps glancing at the door. The dentist should be here any minute now. Viv is two margaritas deep and flirting with someone’s cousin who owns a paddleboard business while also sending the occasional smirk in Jalen’s direction. I think she likes to see him squirm.
It’s perfect. But it isn’t.
The soft yellow halter-back sundress is pressing in a little too close. And I’m trying not to overthink the fact that Noah is holding my hand.
Like it’s no big deal.
Like this is normal.
Like I’m not two inches from a panic spiral.
Like it’s okay that I’m celebrating a 50th birthday party for my dead husband while standing much too close to his best friend.
Like I’m not the scum of the earth.
Okay, deep breath. The guilt is apparently stronger than usual tonight.
He leans in close to murmur something, and his breath tickles my ear, and I laugh, because it’s easier than saying,this is the first time I’ve ever gone with someone to a party since Owen asked me out freshman year.
But it’s not only someone.
It’s him.
Noah.
And then it happens.
Someone taps my shoulder.
“Oh, Birdie, I was just saying how much you and Owen used to light up every party you went to together. You always danced to that song. Wasn’t this it? I swear some of the neighborhood party planners would put it on there to help the rest of us cynics see that there was still love left in this world.”
I freeze.
Because yes. Yes, it’s playing right now.
Owen and my song.
The only slow song that played at our first college party on our first date.
It’s floaty and sweet and God, the kind of thing that doesn’t feel likejust a songwhen your dead husband used to hum it while doing the dishes or holding our crying baby boy.
Noah follows my gaze, and his face shifts, like he understands something has changed in me.
