I take a shaky breath.
“Noah and I kissed.” The words fall out, fragile and loud in the space between me and the mountain. “Well… more than kissed. And I’m not going to give you details, because if you were here, you’d tease me until I turned redder than this stupid thermos about the fact that I still don’t like to say the wordsex. But it happened. And it felt confusing. Right and wrong and real all at once.”
My throat tightens. “And I don’t know who I’m more afraid of hurting, you, or him, or me.”
I stare out across the Sound, waiting for a sign that won’t come.
“After you died, I came here every night,” I whisper. “Sat on this bench, playing that last voicemail. Over and over. Every breath, every pause etched into my chest. Like if I listened enough times, I could hold onto the way it felt to be loved by you.”
The sound of a family packing up their picnic fills our silence, and I inhale deeply.
“Is it okay that I kissed him? That I felt something? I’m not really moving on. I don’t think I ever could. But is it possible to reach for something new without letting go of you?”
A throat clears behind me.
I don’t jump. I know who it is before I turn around.
Viv and Marin are standing behind me, arms crossed against the wind. Viv’s in a leopard print shirt that clashes with everything around us, and Marin’s hair is in a ponytail that’s already giving up against the breeze.
“We figured we’d find you here.” Viv settles beside me like she owns the bench.
“Or the overlook,” Marin adds. “Harper and Matt gave us a list.”
I smile faintly. “You guys really didn’t have to?—”
“We wanted to,” Marin interrupts. “Besides, Viv made me promise we wouldn’t leave without finishing all our grief dares.” She pulls out the three pink, glittered notebooks.
“Which you haven’t.” Viv raises an eyebrow at me.
I groan. “It was a stupid idea. I don't know what I was thinking.”
“I'll tell you what you were thinking. You were struck by brilliance!” Viv jabs a thumb toward herself. “I mean, come on. A grief dare book? Who else could’ve made mourning feel like a chaotic scavenger hunt through emotional trauma and karaoke bars?”
I shake my head, but I’m smiling now. “You two really did it, didn’t you? You actually finished yours.”
Marin nods. “Every last dare.” She tilts her head, eyes thoughtful. “I thought I’d be relieved when I checked the final box the other night. But really, it cracked something open.”
“Same.” Viv’s voice drops low, uncharacteristically serious. “Like I’d been holding my breath for years. And somewhere between leading a conga line in a wine bar full of strangers and telling Harper I don’t think I can do this life without him, I realized I was finally exhaling.”
Marin folds her hands in her lap. “It didn’t make the grief disappear. It just stopped being the only thing I carried.”
Viv nods. “Yeah. I think I used to think moving forward meant leaving our husbands behind. But now it feels like we’ve brought them with us.Just in a different way.”
I feel that in my bones.
Viv shifts on the bench to face me more directly. “Which brings us back to you.”
I groan again, dramatic this time. “You guys are relentless.”
“You’re welcome,” Viv says cheerfully. “Now finish your last dare.”
Marin raises her eyebrows in gentle encouragement, opening the book to the big circle around the final item on my list.
“Tell the truth about what you’re afraid of,” Viv says simply.
I look down at my hands. “I’m not afraid of replacing Owen. I know no one could. I’m afraid, if I let myself move forward, really move forward, I’ll lose him again. That letting someone else in means erasing him.”
There’s a long pause. The wind tugs at the edges of the moment.
