Page 68 of What Comes Around

Then I ran my fingers lightly over the smooth surface before lifting the lid. The familiar scent of polished wood and metal strings drifted up, sharp and comforting at the same time.

For the first time in years, I sat down at my own piano again.

And the house finally felt like mine.

A few days later, I hosted a small housewarming party. Just a handful of people. Amy, Liam, Thomas, and Payton with their son. I hadn’t seen Payton or her family in a year.

When the doorbell rang, I wiped my hands on a towel and went to open it.

Amy and Liam were first, both holding grocery bags like they were moving in.

“We brought wine, candles, and… whatever this is.” Liam held up a loaf of bread wrapped in paper. “Traditional housewarming carbs.”

Amy lifted a potted plant. “And something alive. Try not to kill it.”

I laughed and hugged them both.

Behind them, Thomas and Payton walked up the path while their little son ran ahead.

“Ash!” Payton called, smiling wide. “Oh my God, look at this place!”

I stepped out onto the porch to hug her. “It’s still a work in progress.”

“It’s gorgeous,” she said, pulling back to look at the house again.

Thomas handed me a bottle of champagne. “For when you’re officially settled.”

Then the little boy barreled into my legs. I crouched down and scooped him up without thinking.

“Hi,” I said softly.

He blinked at me with big, curious eyes, Thomas’s eyes, but the shape of his face… that was so similar to Nick. The same cheekbones, the same nose. Payton and Nick were siblings after all. Genetics didn’t lie.

And for one second, my brain betrayed me and tried to imagine…

What my child would have looked like.

The one I never got to meet.

“You’ve gotten so big,” I murmured.

“A whole year older,” Payton said behind me. “He’s basically a teenager now.”

I held him a little tighter. He wrapped his arms around my neck with the easy trust only small children have, and something inside me twisted. A quiet, familiar ache.

In my first life, I never got to hold my own child. I never got to see their face. Never got to know who they would have looked like.

For a moment, I let myself imagine it, a tiny hand gripping my shirt, a warm weight against my chest, a heartbeat that existed because of me.

Someone innocent. Someone I could love without fear. Someone who would love me back without conditions or complications.

I wanted that.

Payton brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “He likes you.”

“I like him too,” I said softly.

The boy giggled and pressed his forehead to mine.