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I brush tears from her cheek with my thumb. “You know, this isn’t even your personal crying record.”

Her eyes narrow. “I’m in a fragile state, Laurel.”

“I’m aware. I’m using history as medicine.”

“That sounds stupid.”

“Most family traditions are.”

Despite herself, her mouth twitches.

Maggie wipes under her eyes and lets out a shaky breath. “I miss Ben,” she suddenly says.

“I know,” I say, taking the emotional hit in my chest.

“I think he’d be proud of me today.”

The words nearly undo me.

I swallow around the ache in my throat, reaching for humor to soften the situation’s hard edges. “Yes, but he’d be unbearable about it.”

A small smile appears. “You think so?

“Absolutely. He’d make a speech. A terrible one. Too many metaphors. At least one joke nobody else finds funny.”

Maggie laughs softly. “He’d say Tom always had the personality of damp bread.”

“He would never insult bread like that.”

She giggles.

“Now, come on,” I say with what I hope is an encouraging smile. “Let’s go get your daughter. Start the rest of your damn life.”

Her face brightens. “Let’s do it.”

As the truck pulls out of the parking lot, I keep my shoulder pressed against hers so she knows exactly where I am.

Right here.

As long as she needs me.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Ashby

"Those socks don't match," I tell Lucy.

She keeps eating her cereal without looking up from her bowl. "So? They're friends."

Across the table, Laurel takes a sip of coffee, already smiling.

I gesture toward Lucy's feet. "Friends?"

Lucy nods patiently. "The dinosaur one gets lonely."

I nod. "Of course it does."

"It gets anxious if it's by itself."