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“Not happening.”

A few seconds later, Ho Hey by the Lumineers starts playing from Dex's phone.

Jude drops his head. “Fuck me.”

Everyone laughs, and I look towards the lake, trying to picture Damiano at sixteen, sitting here with a ukulele in his hands and Jude beside him with a guitar, probably driving everyone on the ranch completely insane.

And suddenly, I can see him. His dark hair falling into his eyes as he laughs, his fingers fumbling over the strings while he plays the same damn song until everyone begs him to stop.

Young. Happy.

Alive.

For once, when I picture him, he isn't sick or lying in a hospital bed. He's here, surrounded by the people who loved him, making enough noise to be heard all the way back at the ranch.

I listen for a moment, smiling as the music carries across the lake.

“I can see him listening to this goofy song.” I shake my head. “He always had the weirdest taste in music.”

“You're one to talk,” Chiara says beside me.

I turn towards her, and she grins.

“I still remember you screaming Taylor's You Belong With Me at the top of your lungs.”

“Oh my God.” I glare at her. “We were teenagers.”

Dex looks at me. “You were a Swiftie?”

I square my shoulders. “I still am, and I'm proud of it.”

Dex laughs.

“What's wrong with that?” Penny asks with a shrug. “I love her music too.”

“Same,” Summer says. “Don't you hate on Taylor. There's nothing like a Taylor song to help your mood on bad days.”

Grace points at her. “Exactly.”

Lexy nods solemnly. “It's basically therapy.”

All the women nod in agreement, leaving the men looking around at us.

“Oh, hell no,” Ethan mutters. “Not this again.”

“What?” Summer turns towards him.

“Nothing.” He immediately reaches for his drink. “Taylor's great.”

Summer smiles sweetly. “Smart man.”

Dex suddenly starts singing along to the music, and Cas and Ethan join him. Grace and Jace enthusiastically take over the backing vocals, shouting their parts just as they must have done all those years ago with Damiano, and soon we're all laughing.

Jude watches me with a small smile as I laugh along with everyone else, the last of my tears still drying on my face while part of my husband's ashes rests somewhere across the lake.

And somehow, that doesn't feel wrong.

Maybe remembering him doesn't always have to hurt. Maybe sometimes it can mean sitting with the people who loved him, laughing about the ridiculous things he did and hearing stories I never knew. Maybe it can sound like a goofy song, my sister embarrassing me and a bunch of women defending Taylor Swift while their husbands know better than to argue.