Olive and Pear are curled at her feet.
And pink is all around.
I grin, flick off the lights—which means her bright pink nightlight has plenty of space to shine—and turn to leave.
But a glint has me stopping, lifting my hand.
Mylefthand.
I stare at my wedding ring and let the ache come—the pain of missing Anna, the hurt from all that we lost out on, the months and years of wanting things to be different, the memories that continue to fade with each day that passes.
“Enough,” I whisper. “Just…enough.”
Quietly, I move back across Chloe’s room, dodging toys and books, doing my best to not disturb the demon cat duo. I pause when I see the photo of her and Anna on her nightstand, my heart pulsing, and then…I keep moving.
To her closet.
I reach up and grab her brightly painted memory box.
When I open the lid, my favorite photograph of Anna is on top—and I smile as I study it, as I get lost in her grin, her wild hair, the careful way she cradled Chloe against her chest.
Love.
Anna’s.
Chloe’s.
Mine.
But it’s a love that’s softened at the edges. That’s faded into something that’s becoming a pleasant memory instead of an overwhelming discomfort.
Not gone forever. Not pushed away and forgotten.
Just…different.
Changed.
I’mchanged.
I pick up the frame, running my fingers across the cool metal, then I sink to the floor with a sigh, thinking about the last few months…and the truth I’ve slowly accepted.
Finn laughing in my kitchen.
Finn sewing her blankets.
Finn worried—so damned worried—about Chloe when she was upset.
Trip coming up or not, Finn has become part of our family—one of those squares stitched into the fabric of our lives.
And Anna?—
I look down at my ring.
She’s there too. In my memories. My heart.
“Just…not like this,” I whisper as I slowly slip the metal circle off my finger, place it in the circle of my palm. The gold is warm from my skin and scuffed from years of wearing it and…
I hold it for a long time.
