“Lia doesn’t like her parents. She’d rather spend time with me,” Marissa argued.

“True that,” Lia said with a laugh. “Don’t worry, I’ll see you at the B&B. You’ll be there working with Sarah, right?”

“Yes,” she said excitedly. “And I can show you the secret project Sarah and I are working on.”

“Can’t wait,” Lia said.

“Wait, Lia gets to see this amazing secret project, but I don’t?” Wes faked a look of hurt.

Marissa grinned. “You’ll see it eventually. Have some patience.”

“I’ll try… Now sleep,” Wes said, pulling the pink covers up over her and cocooning her in tight.

“I forgot to kiss Mom,” Marissa said, struggling to untuck an arm. She picked up the picture frame with the photo of Kelly in it on her bedside table. It was taken just months before she’d been diagnosed. After that, Kelly had refused pictures, saying she only wanted to leave behind good memories, snapshots of the good times for her daughter to recall whenever she remembered her.

Wes looked away. Time might dull the ache they all felt, but Kelly’s absence was still strongly mourned. Time couldn’t erase just how much better the world had seemed with her in it.

“Good night,” Wes said as she put the picture back. He turned off the bedroom light and followed Lia back out into the living room.

“Think she has enough toys?” Lia scanned the room that looked like a toy tornado had passed through. They’d played every board game the family had, built a Lego Friends Treehouse kit, played hours of video games, and made a mess experimenting with Marissa’s new chemistry set that had finally arrived in the mail. Marissa was definitely making up for Lia’s lack of visiting, cramming everything she could into the day.

“You’re the one spoiling her with all of this. You have to stop sending presents all the time.” Wes had fought against the gaming console, but somehow Marissa had conveyed her desire for one to Lia months before and one had arrived shortly after. Unfortunately, he was almost as addicted to it now as his daughter was, and he’d needed to put screen time restrictions on both of them.

“It’s guilt,” Lia said, kneeling to put away the game controllers as Wes packed the board games away onto a shelf.

“Are you hungry? Did you want anything else to eat?”

She laughed. “Not after all that meat you fed me.” Hot dogs, hamburgers, and steak had been barbecued that evening, and they’d consumed them all. He’d made veggie burgers as well, but Lia had opted for the real stuff.

“Yeah, I thought you’d gone vegan?” Wes said.

“I’m on vacation. You said yourself I’m supposed to be vacating my life.”