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“It’s so . . . hideous,” Molly said, finding herself inexplicably touched to have that familiar blue brocade back in her life.

“It really, really is,” Alannah said.

Aster sank onto the sofa, looking stunned. He ran a hand across the fabric with such tenderness that Molly had to look elsewhere. She was watching a man appreciate a piece of furniture and it made her want to cry. It was ridiculous.

Molly swallowed over the lump in her throat before turning to her friends. “I love it. Thank you. This is . . . you’re wonderful. Thank you for doing this. I don’t know how we can ever repay you.”

“You don’t have to,” Roy said.

Alannah added, “And we wouldn’t want you to.”

“Alright, well, Bishop looks like he needs a minute with his new living room set. I’m taking it as our cue to leave,” Roy said with an easy smile, looping his arm around Alannah’s waist. “But we’re just down the block if you need anything.”

“This is going to be so much fun,” Alannah said with a barely contained squeal. “Lasagna timer should go off in twenty.”

Aster’s face bunched up, and it looked like an emotional traffic jam was stuck behind his teeth. He cleared his throat and said, “Thanks, Waters. For this. For all of it.”

Roy nodded. “Happy to do it, Bishop. Can’t let your friends get all the credit for being helpful, you know.” With a final fond smile, he left with Alannah, door clicking soundly on their way out.

Aster remained motionless on the sofa for several silent seconds. Eventually, he looked up and said, “The wealthy don’t really have to buy furniture.”

Molly smirked. “That’s a very robber baron thing to say.”

A soft smile broke the seriousness of his expression. He reached out, pulling her to sit with him. “I mean, a lot of it is inherited. So I always sort of knew that some of the stuff in our family home would eventually end up with me. It was a joke sometimes, when I was little. What pieces I wanted. My father moved this—well, the other version of this—from storage when I was six or seven, and I called dibs.”

His focus lingered somewhere in the middle distance while he spoke.

“I don’t even remember why I wanted it so badly,” he went on. “I’d just decided it was mine, and it’s come with me everywhere I’ve lived since. I might not have the fondest memories with my family, but this—that—sofa, has always been a bit of comfort, despite everything that went wrong.”

Molly leaned into him. “I’m so sorry it’s gone.”

“It’s not,” he said, a smile quirking. “It’s right here. A perfect new iteration.”

The stunning gift of its presence brought into sharp relief the reminder of everything they’d lost. As much as Molly believed in this place as a clean slate, the weight of all she’d lost still left her limbs feeling leaden.

“Am I horrible for having all this stuff gifted to me and all I can think about are my books?” she asked, needing a quiet moment to mourn her collection. Aster pulled her into a hug and chuckled softly against the top of her head.

“No, you’re not. I’m upset about mine too. But do you know what did survive?” He disentangled them, leaning over the arm of the sofa and unzipping the backpack that contained the sum of his belongings.

Molly nearly broke into hysterical sobs at what he pulled from within. “The Count of Monte Cristo? But how?”

“I had it with me at work pretending I was going to make progress on it.”

She clutched the book to her chest, fighting back tears. If she cried now, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop.

“I think Bentley might have me believing in predestination. Maybe a little bit,” she whispered, leaning against Aster again.

“Oh?”

“This book,” she began. “When I first got back from the hospital, I remember thinking it was ironic. Me, something of a prisoner like Dantès. But that wasn’t the right connection at all. It’s more like loving this book has been preparing me to live after losing years of my life to circumstances beyond my control. Spending my time doing so much waiting, so much hoping for things I had no power over.”

Aster kissed the crown of her head. “Maybe one day when I actually finish it, I’ll understand those references.”

Molly couldn’t help but sputter a laugh into his shirt.

“I know you miss your books,” Aster continued, hands gliding up and down Molly’s spine as he held her. “But think of all the space we have now. Without them crowding us out of our own home, we can fill this place up with whatever we’d like. More of them if that’s what you want.”

“Memories too,” Molly whispered, looking up at him. She breathed in, considering for a beat before quietly adding, “And children.”