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Yolanda weaves her fingers into my hair the way she has ten thousand times before and lets me break, spending the last minutes of her life comforting me.

“Grieve, but not too long. I want my Beau to be happy.” Barely there. “Promise me. Somebody’s going to be worth it one day. Let her in.”

Nodding against the sheet, I can’t fathom being with anyone but my wife, but it’s important for her to believe I’ll be okay so I give her the nod. “I love you, Yo.”

“I love you too.” Her eyes flutter. “Please get the kids. I don’t know how long I can hang on.”

In a flash, I wake Billie and bring Theo in off the deck.

Taking my spot back next to her, I clasp her hand. Billie climbs onto the bed and lays her palm flat over Yolanda’s heart. Theo makes it through the door, presses his mouth to her knuckles.

With her entire family surrounding her, the sunlight spreads long and gold across the water.

I count her breaths so the last one doesn’t catch me off guard.

Then, it doesn’t come.

I keep waiting.

It doesn’t come.

Her hand goes slack in mine and Billie makes a shrieking sound I’ll hear for the rest of my life. Theo slams outside where his dog is barking at nothing like it’s an ordinary evening in an ordinary world.

I’m caught so fucking off guard, my mind can’t begin to comprehend.

Yolanda is gone.

Through tears, I see a robin land on the deck railing close to Theo, whose entire body is slumped and shaking. It looks back at me then flies off into the setting sun.

I gather my daughter in my arms. Together we sob over Yolonda’s lifeless body.

My wife made me promise to be happy.

I lied.

It’s simply not possible without her.

one

18 Months Later

God, my life is chaotic.

I slept through my alarm. Dropped my phone. The elevator took forever.

Now, I’m six minutes late to my creative-writing class.

I blame it on the bad date last night, which I’m still not convinced wasn’t a low-key hostage situation.

His name was Marcus. Twenty-seven. Wore a scarf indoors in May and talked about his podcast for two hours before I bailed. When the bill came he asked me to chip in half for a burrata appetizer he wolfed down without offering me a bite.

I paid the whole tab.

Fuck him.

Sadly, this is the dating pool now. Older guys date like it’s a networking mixer to procreate. Guys my age hear “I spent last year nursing my mom as she was dying from pancreatic cancer” and start scanning the room for the exits.

Anyway, it’s my last semester. Poli-sci, pre-law, the whole responsible-daughter starter pack. I promised her I’d graduate on time, and I’m going to, even if I’ve held this year together on fumes, grief, and spite.