“As I was sitting there, Dorian’s song ‘Learn to Love Again’ started playing from a woman’s headphones that were too loud,” she continues. “Then someone’s car radio. And even on the ride home. The same song, coming at me from every direction.” Her fingers tighten around mine. “It was like Daniel was telling me to be with you. To trust you. That he wanted this for me and Penny.”
I don’t realize I’m crying until Lily reaches up to wipe a tear from my cheek. “That’s beautiful,” I manage to say.
“I felt him there, Josh. Like he was giving me his blessing.”
“I believe you,” I tell her, and I do. I can’t explain why these things happened, but I know they did. And I know what they mean to us. “Some loves are so big they don’t end, even when—” My voice breaks, and I have to clear my throat. “Even when the other person is gone. Daniel loved you and Penny so much that he’s still looking out for you, still wanting you to be happy.”
Lily nods, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. “For the longest time, I thought being loyal to his memory meant being alone forever. But that day at the cemetery, I realized the most loyal thing I could do was to be happy. To let Penny be happy. To let love back into our lives.”
I gather her close, feeling her tears dampen my shoulder as she burrows into me. “I’ll never try to replace him,” I promise. “For either of you. He’ll always be Penny’s dad and your first love.”
“I know,” she whispers against my skin. “That’s one of the reasons I love you. You don’t try to compete with a ghost. You make room for him at the table.”
“What will Penny say?” I ask.
Lily traces absent patterns on my chest as she considers this. “She’ll be thrilled. She already adores you.”
“The feeling’s mutual,” I say with a smile. “Your kid is pretty incredible.”
“She is,” Lily agrees, pride warming her voice. “But she’s also still processing Daniel’s death in her own way. Sometimes she’ll go weeks without mentioning him, and then she’ll have a million questions about what he was like, if he would’ve loved her ballet recital, if he’d like her new backpack.”
“We’ll be careful. Make sure she knows it’s okay to love both of us. That hearts expand; they don’t replace.”
Lily’s eyes go bright. “When did you get so wise?”
I shrug, my cheeks warming. “My grandma raised me right. She used to tell me that love isn’t a pie. More for someone else doesn’t mean less for us.”
“Your grandmother sounds amazing.”
“She was,” I agree, swallowing past the sudden tightness in my throat. “She would’ve loved you.”
Lily kisses me then, and that emptiness, that sense of not belonging anywhere that’s been my silent companion for years, finally leaves me. I’m not alone anymore. I have found my people.
In her. In Penny. In us.
32
JOSH
“You’re a hazard in the kitchen,” Lily teases, rescuing the toast I almost burned because I’m too busy ogling her legs.
“Only because you’re distracting me.” I trap her against the counter for another kiss.
She melts into me for a moment before nuzzling me away. “Food first, then ravishing. I need sustenance.”
I let her go with exaggerated reluctance, turning back to the stove. “Okay, but I’m going to need detailed instructions on this ravishing business.”
Her laugh—that unreserved one I love—fills the room. “You’ve got the basics down just fine.”
We eat at her small kitchen table, our legs tangled underneath. The moment is perfect. Food getting cold on our plates because we keep talking, touching, looking at each other. I want to freeze it, preserve it like one of my Polaroids.
“So,” Lily says as she sips her coffee, “logistically speaking, how do we do this? You can’t move in today.”
“I figured I’d keep my apartment for now, I’m on a one-year lease anyway,” I say. “Come over when invited, spend time with you and Penny, let her get used to me being around more. Then maybe in a few months, if everything’s going well…”
“You’re okay with that pace? Not too slow?”
I reach across the table for her hand. “Lily, a few days ago, I thought I’d lost you forever. I’ll take what you’re willing to give me, at whatever speed feels right.”
