“Nothing beats moving your ass out of this shithole.” He lifts my left hand and examines it. He notices the change right away, which means it’s the first thing he looks at every time he sees me. He holds my left hand and turns it here and there. “No ring.”

I lean my forehead against his shoulder. “No ring.”

There is expectation in the air. I guess this is my time to say something profound. But I don’t have anything to say. I’m not sure where my mind is at right now.

“Are you going to be looking at colleges while you’re here?” he asks, his tone guarded this time. We’ve both been hurt so much.

“Actually, I’m only here for a couple days.”

“Huh.” He rubs at his chin. “I see.”

I’m considering Tufts, Northeastern, and Boston University.

My heart tells me to tell him that the only reason I haven’t decided yet is that I am scared. So, so scared to finally have him. To lose him.

My heart tells me to drop to my knees and beg him to help me make a decision. What would be right? What would be the least painful? If only someone could tell me that if we were together tomorrow, no one else would lose their life. No one else would suffer.

But my heart is not in charge anymore. I can’t get a word out of my mouth. I can’t even begin to think what to say.

“Right.” Joe steps back, whipping his head around to look at the entrance door. “Shall we?”

We both walk inside. The place looks familiar and yet strange. Nora has moved all her things out at this point—the fact that she still pays half the rent is insane to me. It’s just my stuff and the cursed sofa we got at the flea market together.

“I’ll tackle the bedroom; you can pack the kitchen. Everything goes to charity. Other than expired food. That goes to the trash.” I clap my hands together.

“No offense, Ev, but the place stinks.”

“None taken.” I smile. “And that makes sense. No one’s been here in months.”

Eight months, to be exact. Has it really been almost a year since Dom passed away?

Joe hooks his phone to his Bluetooth. The Smiths blast through the speakers.

“Morrissey!” I raise my fist in the air.

“I’d tattoo his name on my ass if he asked me. True story.” Joe is already deep inside the kitchen, tossing things into a huge black garbage bag.

It is pathetic, how few things I have. Joe and I take three hours to have everything tucked away in boxes, labeled, and ready to be handed off to the nearest Salvation Army branch. We’re sweaty and panting as we stand in an empty living room, save for that damn couch.