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“Morning, Dad,” I greet him as I enter the office and set the tray I carry on top of his desk.
“It’s good to see you, sweetheart. How are you feeling today?”
I shrug a shoulder. “Where’s Pa?”
Dad rises from his seat and walks toward me, giving me a big hug. “You should come back home. I hate knowing you’re alone in that big house.”
“It’s fine, Dad. Where are your spouses?”
“Matt is downstairs practicing with Keith. Thea’s in her office working.”
“Mom makes sense, but what’s Keith doing here? Shouldn’t he be at school?”
“He has an audition or something?” Dad flinches, obviously feeling bad that he didn’t pay enough attention.
I roll my eyes. “He can practice as much as he wants, but he’ll never be like the legendary Keith Moon.”
“Your brother will be better,” Pa says, entering the office. “How are you today, Pipe?”
“I’m here,” I answer because I haven’t assessed the damage done to my heart, soul, and body.
Pa shakes his head, exhaling loudly. “It breaks my heart to see you like this.”
“Like what?”
“Your bright light is off, sweetheart.” Dad’s the one who answers.
“It’ll be better when they find Archer, and I know he’s on his way home,” I assure them.
“Listen—”
“No, Dad, don’t try to give me one of your logical explanations, please. You, of all people, should understand why I insist. You feel Pa and Mom’s heartbeats. You would know if they stopped beating, wouldn’t you?”
“She has a point, Tristan,” Pa defends me. “I would know.”
“Matt…” Dad doesn’t finish his sentence.
“Please, stop trying to find logic around my intuition, Dad.” I try to sound normal, but my voice comes out too defensive.
“Yes, but in the meantime, I’m watching my daughter fade away.”
I wave a hand. “Well, Imightstop that today.”
“What changed?”
“He left me a box just in case…” I press my lips together. “I’m finding reasons to keep going. All of you are right. I can’t pause my life. Maybe by following his grief agenda, I can find a new way to live while I wait for him.”
“Oh good, you finally started reading it,” Mom says when she steps into the office. “How are you today?”
I ignore her question or the fact that she knows about the box. “I have a confession to make.”
“Yeah?” The three of them look at me expectantly.
I squeeze my eyes shut, pull out the chain on my neck, and show them the rings.
“Wedding bands?” Mom’s voice has some concern.
“Umm, yeah.”
