When I’d looped the block, I stood in my yard, looking up at the dark October sky, and begged the stars for answers.

They were bright and beautiful and infinite.

But they were silent.

Thirty

Noah

The next night, I stopped by Chris and Nina’s house after work. It was a Sunday evening, and they were busy getting the kids ready for bed. Chris had Ethan in the tub in one bathroom, Violet and Harrison were spitting water at each other while brushing their teeth in another, and Nina was holding the baby in one arm and trying to pack school lunches for tomorrow with the other.

“Let me take her,” I said, reaching for Rosie.

“She needs to burp,” my sister said, gratefully relinquishing the squirming child.

“I can handle it.” I put the burp cloth over my shoulder, gently hoisted Rosie up there, and patted her back while I paced the kitchen floor. Renzo hung out by the island, probably hoping Nina would drop a scrap or two. “Did you go to Mom’s today after church?”

“Uh huh,” she said, spreading almond butter on a slice of bread.

“Did she say anything about yesterday?”

“Uh huh.” She moved on to another slice.

“So?”

“So what?”

“So whose side are you on?” I asked impatiently.

She didn’t answer right away. She spread grape jelly on a slice of bread and matched it with one covered in almond butter. Then she peeled a banana and began slicing it. “When it comes to Asher, I’m on your side. Chris and I have always thought more independence would be good for him. I was thrilled to hear that he wants to try living on his own. In fact, we spoke with him in his room and told him we fully support him. We told Mom that too.”

“Good,” I said, feeling vindicated.

She placed banana slices on the remaining piece of almond-buttered bread. “But Mom is right about you.”

I clenched my teeth. I’d had a feeling it was coming.

She peeked at me over her shoulder. “Don’t you think?”

“I don’t know what I think anymore.”

“Yes, you do. You’re just too stubborn to admit you were wrong.”

I glared at her, continuing to pat Rosie’s back. “Why is everyone so sure they can read my mind?”

Nina laughed as she stuck some grapes into small Ziploc bags. “You don’t have to be a mind reader to know how you feel about Meg. It’s obvious. And you don’t have to be a math whiz to add things up—you guys finally hooked up, it was amazing, she offered to stay, you freaked out, and now you’re miserable and regretting it. Am I missing anything?”

“Yes,” I said stubbornly. “The part where I did what I thought was right because she wants to get married and have kids and I don’t.”

Nina gave me an oh please face and gestured to the baby in my arms. “Because you hate kids?”

“No, I love kids. But because—” My brain stumbled over the next part.

“Because of Asher?” Nina turned around and leaned back against the counter. “Chris told me what you said. About us having our kids to care for and you having Asher. It’s bullshit, Noah. And you know it.”

“It is not,” I insisted. “It’s very likely he’ll need to live with me someday.”

“You’re doing the exact same thing Mom is, using Asher as an excuse not to fully live your life. You’re just projecting it onto the future, whereas she’s doing it right now.”

“It’s not the same.” But my words lacked fight.

“It’s exactly the same. Both of you need to get over yourselves. Asher is finally ready to get out on his own and live his life on his own terms. Are you?” she challenged.

While I was thinking about it, Rosie let out an enormous belch.

My sister and I laughed together, and some of the tension diffused. “Impressive,” I said. “Takes after her dad. I hope she’s a better secret keeper. He wasn’t supposed to tell you what I said.”

“Don’t be mad at him.” Nina went to the pantry and pulled out a package of Oreos. “I was torturing him with questions that night and he was sleep-deprived. He just told me to get me to shut up and let him sleep.”

I sighed, taking the baby from my shoulder and holding her out in from of me. “Everyone’s against me, Rosie. I can’t win.”

Nina laughed, tucking cookies into tiny plastic containers. “Actually, you can, big brother. Go get her back. You two were meant to be together, and the sooner you stop fighting it, the happier you’ll be.”

The thought of getting Meg back, of being happy together, filled my heart with excitement. But was it even possible?

“How?” I asked her, cradling Rosie against my chest. “I don’t even know what to do. I was such an asshole about everything. I spent all this energy trying to convince her I couldn’t be what she wanted. Now I’m going to turn around and say the opposite? Why should she believe me?”

“I’m not saying it will be easy, but you know her,” Nina said. “Think about it. Try really hard to remember anything she said that might give you a clue as to what she really needs to hear to trust you again.”

I kissed the top of Rosie’s sweet-smelling head and rested my lips there for a moment. Maybe I would have this someday. Maybe it would be Meg and me making school lunches, in our kitchen (with Renzo still looking for scraps). Maybe we’d even have a couple little ones upstairs in bed already, or spitting water at each other, or asking for just one more story. I wanted it all, even the sleepless nights. Did she? Would she want it all with me? Could she imagine a life together for us in this small town, surrounded by family and friends? In a home where we went to bed together every night, her body tucked next to mine the way I liked?

The memory of holding her close in my bed, whispering secrets to each other in the dark, sent a spark shooting up my spine.

And just like that, I knew what I had to say.

Thirty-One

Meg

Another week crawled by.

I was doing my best to put my body, mind, and spirits in a better place, but it wasn’t easy. The one thing I had to look forward to was a surprise visit from April.

She’d called me on Friday afternoon and said she’d decided last-minute to purchase a booth at a wedding trade show in DC next week. The expo was Monday and Tuesday. If she flew in early on Sunday, could I spend the day with her?

I said of course and made sure my schedule was clear. Since I’d returned to DC, I’d been much better about leaving room in my planner for down time.

I offered to pick her up at the airport, but she said it wasn’t necessary and asked if I’d meet her at her hotel. From there we could walk around downtown, see the sights, grab drinks and dinner, and catch up. I said that was fine. She was staying at the Mandarin, which seemed oddly pricey for April, but whatever—everyone deserves a splurge now and then.

She texted me Sunday around noon.

April: Hey, I’m here! My flight got in early and it’s so beautiful, I can’t stay inside. Meet me at the WWII memorial instead? It’s walking distance from my hotel!