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“Well, then you owe it to him to continue writing that book,” Jules paused. “You did what was right for you, but you still have a book to finish, Em. And from what you’ve told me, you wrote the best book because of him. Don’t you dare let that go to waste? If there is anything good to come from all of this, it’s going to be that book. If you feel you should change it, then do so, but I’d never once think you ever did it to hurt them. But right now, I think you should try to get some rest.”

“Okay.”

“Call me tomorrow.”

“Jules?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for always being here.”

“You’re welcome. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

I hung up the phone and lay there staring up at the stupid watermark on the ceiling with my phone on my chest. I could hear the television in the other room; my mother was laughing at whatever show she was watching. She was giving me my space the way she always did; the best part of that was I knew she was there when I’d need her.

At some point I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew I opened my eyes and checked my phone. It was almost five o’clock. The apartment was dark. I made my way to the bathroom and washed my face. I changed into sweatpants and an old concert t-shirt and pulled my hair up into a bun. Then I crawled into bed and opened my laptop.

I opened my manuscript and stared at the blinking cursor, thinking first, then typing. I didn’t think about what I was writing; I just wrote. Before I knew it, I’d typed the end, and I sat there staring at the page. Mom was right. The best endings were the ones that surprised you.

I opened my email and attached the end of the manuscript first, and stared at the blank page, debating on writing something. When nothing came to me, I simply hit send, sending it to Everett. Even though I’d written nothing in the email, I figured the ending of the book would tell him everything. I then closed my laptop and pressed the palms of my hands to my eyes. Everyone always told me that romance should end with a happily ever after, but that isn’t always true to life. This was the ending I’d written for Rosie, a noble and heartbreaking exit. It was the kind that looked beautiful on the page but felt like you were swallowing broken glass in real life. This was me sending my last goodbye, the only one I was capable of right now.

Chapter Twelve

Everett

It was cold and rainy. Sophie sat on the stool, eating her breakfast. It had only been a couple of days since Ember had left, and I’d figured Sophie would ask when she was coming back, but she’d surprised me and didn’t mention her.

I wanted her to talk to me if she needed to. Instead, she was doing all the things that told me she needed nothing and that she was the perfect child. She’d brushed her teeth last night without being asked; she put herself to bed; she even got dressed with no help, and that told me she was terrified. To me, these things were worse. These were the exact things she had done after Rebecca died.

I became efficient, organized, and uptight. I ran my company, looked after the house, handled all the funeral arrangements, and never, under any circumstances, did I miss a meeting. I remembered everyone telling me how well I was handling everything, and I accepted those compliments like the fraud I was. All I was doing was refusing to deal with anything. Now I was watching my seven-year-old daughter handle the next heartbreak she faced, and to see it happen twice was the most heartbreaking thing I’d ever witnessed.

I was glad that Sophie had her appointment with her therapist today. I’d set up her tablet so she could do the appointment over a video call instead, and I came into my office to get some work done.

I sat in my study and stared at my computer, at the slew of emails I had no desire to read. My phone had already rung twice, but I let it go to voicemail. I could hear Sophie’s voice drifting through the door as she spoke to her therapist, and I stared at the frame she’d given me, at the photo of Ember and I during that morning flour fight.

At lunch, I made Sophie a grilled cheese. I put the plate down and sat down with my sandwich. She took two bites and left the rest on the plate, resting her chin in her hands.

“Aren’t you hungry?” I questioned.

She let out an enormous sigh. “I’m fine.”

“How did your appointment go?”

“Okay.” She said looking at the potted mum in the center of the table.

“Come on, eat up.” I said, tapping her plate, shoving it closer to her.

“I think I am going to go read,” she said, sliding off her stool.

Once I’d eaten, I got up and began cleaning up the kitchen. I went to put something in the drawer and found the binder Ember had left shoved inside. I’d put it in there because it was out of sight. I pulled it out and opened it. I flipped through it and found a section I hadn’t seen before. The tab read: Things to know about Sophie.

She loves the green velociraptor shirt more than the teal one, keep it clean.

She only opens the box of her mom’s decorations in the back of her closet when she is sure no one is looking. Don’t let her know you know.

When she has a nightmare, she needs you to read to her for ten minutes before she can fall asleep. Read about one of her favorite dinosaurs.