Belle hops off the couch and settles at my feet. Almost as if she knows tonight isn’t about her. Parker sinks down in the vacated space beside me. She’s quiet for a minute, scanning the room, listening to the hum of the guys’ voices from the back deck. Until she nudges my shoulder with hers. “You’re not alone, Grace. Not tonight. Not Saturday. Not ever.”
The words break me. Crack my heart open until all my worries and tears spill out in silent sobs.
Parker wraps me in her arms, her hand gently cradling the back of my head. Emi slides her hip onto the arm of the couch on my other side. Isabel crouches in front of me. And these women, who’ve become my closest friends, hold me until I can breathe again.
“I’m scared,” I whisper. “What if I wake up and I don’t remember AJ? Or any of you?”
“That’s not going to happen,” Emi says when she and Isabel extricate themselves from the group hug. “But you know what we’d do if—worst case—it did? We’d just make new memories. We’re not going anywhere, Grace. You’re one of us now. There’s no leaving the friend group. Not allowed.”
Isabel’s dark eyes meet mine. “I know we don’t have years and years of inside jokes or whispered secrets or outrageous escapades. But we’ll still be here to fill in every blank until you’re absolutely sick of us.”
Parker slides her arm from my shoulders and swipes a tear from her cheek. “I—” Her voice is so raw, so utterly wrecked, that we all turn to her. “I watched my mom lose pieces of herself every day. Hardest thing I’ve ever lived through. But…it taught me something important.”
I draw her against me, and she releases a shaky breath.
“Love doesn’t need memories. Love finds its way, even when the brain doesn’t cooperate.”
Her words hang in the air for several seconds before she reaches for my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “AJ would burn down the world for you, Grace. Then walk through the flames without a second thought to bring you back to him. And he’d do it again and again and again.”
A fresh wave of tears spills down my cheeks. She’s right. I know she’s right because even when I didn’t know who I was, when I had no idea if anyone had ever loved me, something deep inside me trusted AJ—knew AJ.
We found one another. Twice. If we have to, we’ll do it again.
“Of all the choices I’ve made and don’t remember, there’s one I’m sure of. You, Aaron. It’s always been you.”
Emi passes tissues to everyone. “Crying is allowed tonight, Grace. But only if you let me paint your toes while you do it.” She shakes a bottle of glittery purple polish that looks like it came from a mermaid’s treasure chest.
“You did not have that color at home, did you?” I say, laughing through the last few tears.
“I plead the fifth.” She pulls a small spa pillow out of her bag and sets it on the coffee table. “Foot, please.”
Isabel opens a bottle of wine, pours three glasses, then hesitates. “Grace?”
“The doctor said I could have one drink tonight and one cup of coffee tomorrow. Then it’s nothing but decaffeinated tea and water.”
“Well, then it’s a good thing I splurged on the expensive bottle,” she says.
Parker, still quiet, disappears down the hall to AJ’s office for a minute, then returns with a stack of index cards and a handful of colorful pens. She waits until Emi finishes with the first coat of polish, then passes each of us a card and a pen.
“Last serious task of the night,” she says. “We all write down a memory with Grace. Doesn’t have to be important or big. Just…real. Grace, you can pick a memory with one of us, with AJ, with Belle, or alone.”
“You realize you’re making me break the rules, right?” I ask as more tears threaten. “Emi can’t write and paint my toes at the same time, and I’m gonna cry again.”
Parker shrugs. “Sorry, not sorry.”
For a few minutes, no one speaks. I stare at my blank card, wondering how I pick from all the happy memories I’ve made since coming home. There are so many.
Eventually, I settle on the one that surprised me the most.
You all welcomed me to girls’ night with hugs, a bowl of queso, and margaritas. And I remembered how to laugh again.
Parker, Emi, and Isabel slide their cards into my hand. I cradle them carefully, because though they’re nothing but paper, they hold the weight of solid gold.
The first one is Isabel’s.
I remember how hard you laughed when Belle tried to lick the empty bowl of queso and got a poblano stuck to her tongue.
Emi’s is next.
