Reminders of Him

She touches my cheek and smiles up at me. “Thanks to you.”

I shake my head. “I’m not responsible for tonight. I’m not the one who saved up every penny and moved to this town and walked to work every day to try and—”

“I love you, Ledger.” She says it so effortlessly, like it’s the easiest thing she’s ever said. “You don’t have to say it back. I just want you to know how much you—”

“I love you too.”

She grins and then presses her lips firmly to mine. I try to kiss her back, but she’s still smiling against my mouth. As much as I want to take off her clothes and whisper I love you repeatedly against her skin, I’d much rather just hold her for a while and give us both time to process everything that happened today.

So much happened today. And there’s still so much left. “I’m not moving,” I say.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not selling this house. I’m going to sell the new one. I want to stay here.”

“When did you decide that?”

“Just now. My people are here. This is my home.”

Maybe I’m crazy, considering how many hours I’ve put into building that house, but Roman put those hours in too. Maybe I’ll sell it to Roman for the cost of materials. It’s the least I can do. After all, Roman might have been the catalyst for how today turned out. Had he not forced me to go back and check on Kenna that night, I’m not sure any of us could have gotten to this point.

Kenna is done talking, apparently. She kisses me, and she doesn’t stop until an hour later when we’re exhausted and sweaty and satiated and wrapped in each other’s arms. I stare at her until she falls asleep, and then I stare up at the ceiling because I can’t fall asleep.

I can’t stop thinking about that fucking pigeon.

What are the chances Scotty had no connection to that? What are the chances he did?

It could have just been a coincidence, but it also could have been a sign. A message from wherever he is.

Maybe it doesn’t matter whether something is a coincidence or a sign. Maybe the best way to cope with the loss of the people we love is to find them in as many places and things as we possibly can. And in the off chance that the people we lose are still somehow able to hear us, maybe we should never stop talking to them.

“I’m going to be so good to your girls, Scotty. I promise.”

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

KENNA

I unbuckle Diem from her booster seat and help her out of Ledger’s truck. I already have the cross in my hand, so I grab the hammer from the floorboard.

“You sure you don’t want me to help?” Ledger asks.

I smile at him reassuringly and shake my head. This is something I want to do with Diem.

I lead her to the edge of the road where I first found the cross, and I kick around in the grass and dirt with the toe of my sneaker until I find the hole the cross was in. I hand the cross to Diem. “See that hole?”

She leans forward to inspect the ground.

“Stick it right there.”

Diem drives the cross into the hole. “Why are we putting this here?”

I push down on the cross, making sure it’s stable. “Because it’ll make your nana happy to know it’s here, in case she ever drives by.”

“Will it make my daddy happy?”

I kneel down next to Diem. I’ve missed so much of her life, which is why I want every minute we spend together to be authentic. I’m always as truthful as I can be with her.

“No. Probably not. Your daddy thought memorials were silly. But your nana doesn’t, and sometimes we do things for people we love, even though we wouldn’t choose to do those things for ourselves.”

Diem reaches for the hammer. “Can I do it?”

I hand her the hammer, and she hits the cross a few times. It doesn’t do much, so when she hands the hammer back to me, I hit it three times until it’s secured into the ground.

I wrap my arms around Diem, and we stare at the cross. “Is there anything you want to say to your daddy?”

Diem thinks about it for a moment and then says, “What do I say? Do I make a wish?”

I laugh. “You can try, but he’s not a genie, or Santa Claus.”

“I wish for a baby sister or a baby brother.”

Don’t you dare grant her wish yet, Scotty. I’ve known Ledger for all of five months.

I pick up Diem and walk her back to the truck. “It takes more than a wish to make a sibling.”

“I know. We have to buy an egg from Walmart. That’s how babies grow.”

I buckle her into the booster seat. “Not exactly. Babies grow in their mother’s tummies. Remember how I told you that you grew in my tummy?”