LOGINThe call came on a Monday.Emma was at the kitchen table, reviewing wedding plans, when her phone buzzed. Her father's name appeared on the screen."Dad," Emma answered. "Is everything okay?""Everything's fine," Thomas Hart said. His voice was warm, slow, the voice of a man who had never been in a hurry. "I was wondering if Nick and I could have dinner. Just the two of us."Emma's heart tightened. "Dinner?""Man talk. You know how it is."Emma didn't know how it was. Her father had never asked to have dinner with any of her boyfriends. Of course, she had never had a boyfriend before Nick."I'll ask him," Emma said."Good. Let me know."He hung up.Emma stared at the phone.---Nick was in the shower. Emma waited until he came out, a towel around his waist, his hair dripping."My father wants to have dinner with you," Emma said.Nick stopped drying his hair. "What?""Dinner. Just the two of you."Nick's face went pale. "Why?""I don't know. Man talk.""What's man talk?""I don't know.
The invitation came from Daniel.Not a text. Not a call. An actual invitation, printed on heavy cream paper, delivered by hand to Nick's penthouse.You and Emma. Dinner. Saturday. 7 PM. My place. Just us. No Emma. Just brothers.Nick stared at the card. "He printed another invitation."Emma took it from his hands. "It's beautiful.""He's trying too hard.""He's trying to connect."Nick sighed. "I know. That's what worries me."---Saturday arrived cold and clear.Nick stood in front of the closet, trying to decide what to wear. He had tried on three sweaters already."The gray," Emma said from the bed."The gray is too casual.""It's dinner at your brother's apartment. Not a board meeting."Nick held up a blue sweater. "This?""That's better."He pulled it on — soft, navy, fitted. Emma's breath caught."What?" Nick asked."Nothing. You just... look good.""I always look good.""You're also humble.""I'm learning."Emma walked to him. She straightened his collar."Are you nervous?" she
The session started like any other.Emma arrived at the Healing Hearts office at 1:00 PM. Rachel was already there, sitting in the small room with the two chairs and the box of tissues and the window that faced the garden. She was staring out the window, her hands folded in her lap."Rachel," Emma said, sitting down.Rachel turned. Her eyes were red. She had been crying.Emma's heart tightened. "What's wrong?""Nothing's wrong." Rachel paused. "Everything's wrong. I don't know."Emma waited. She didn't push. She didn't fill the silence with words.Rachel looked down at her hands. "I saw him," she said.Emma's blood ran cold. "Saw who?""The man. The one who took me."Emma leaned forward. "Where?""At the grocery store. Yesterday. I was buying milk, and there he was. In the produce section. Looking at apples."Rachel's voice was shaking."He didn't see me," Rachel continued. "I don't think he did. But I saw him. And I froze."Emma reached out and took Rachel's hand. "What did you do?"
The guest list was supposed to be simple.That was Nick's word. Simple. He had repeated it so many times that Emma had started to believe him. But as she sat at the kitchen table, surrounded by papers and sticky notes and Eleanor's handwritten additions, she realized that nothing about this list was simple."Your mother wants to invite her bridge club," Emma said.Nick didn't look up from his laptop. "How many people are in her bridge club?""Twelve.""We're not inviting twelve people from her bridge club.""She already sent them save-the-dates."Nick looked up. "She what?"Emma held up a stack of cards. "She had them printed. She addressed them. She mailed them."Nick rubbed his temples. "I'm going to kill her.""You're not going to kill her. You're going to call her and explain that we have a limit.""What's our limit?"Emma looked at the spreadsheet she had been working on for three days. "One hundred and fifty.""And how many people are on the current list?""Two hundred and thirt
The cemetery was quiet.Nick stood at the edge of the path, his hands in his pockets, his eyes fixed on a headstone in the distance. He hadn't been here in years. Not since the funeral. Not since they had lowered his father into the ground and covered him with dirt.Emma stood beside him, her hand on his arm."You don't have to do this alone," Emma said."I know.""I can wait here."Nick looked at her. The sun was behind her, lighting up her hair like a halo."No," he said. "Come with me."---The headstone was simple.Edward Vance. Beloved Husband. Devoted Father.Nick stared at the words. Devoted Father. He wasn't sure that was true. His father had been devoted to the company. To his reputation. To the empire he had built.But devoted to his sons? Nick wasn't sure."Dad," Nick said.The word felt strange in his mouth. He hadn't said it in years.Emma squeezed his hand."I'm getting married," Nick said. "To Emma. The woman I told you about. The one from the basement."The wind blew t
The call came on a Friday.Emma was at the Healing Hearts office, reviewing her notes from the week. She had been volunteering for two months now — two months of listening, of sitting, of holding space for people who had survived the unimaginable. It was hard work. But it was good work.Her phone buzzed. Rachel's name appeared on the screen."Rachel," Emma answered. "Is everything okay?""I need to see you."Emma's heart tightened. "When?""Now. I'm at the office.""I'm here. Come in."---Rachel walked through the door a few minutes later.She looked different — lighter, somehow. Her shoulders were less tense. Her eyes were less tired. She was holding something in her hands — a small piece of paper.Emma gestured to the chair across from her. "Sit."Rachel sat. She didn't speak for a long moment. She just stared at the paper in her hands."I've been seeing someone," Rachel finally said.Emma's eyes widened. "Someone?""A therapist. Margaret recommended her. I've been going for six we







