This time, my heart had a very different reaction—a painful squeeze. He’d never admitted that to me, never even mentioned it. And the thought of changing this place soured my stomach.

Luke smiled, completely unaware. “Honestly, it wouldn’t take much. The floors are in great shape. But we could paint all the cabinets, maybe splurge on countertops and appliances. There’s a warehouse discount place in Hell’s Kitchen—we can get stuff cheap. And I know a girl whose dad does stonework. Countertops, flooring, that sort of thing. I could install crown molding real easy, just for the cost of materials. I’ve got all the tools,” he said, almost to himself, too deep in his imagination to even seem to remember we were there. “We could pull the wallpaper, paint … it’d be like a brand-new place.”

The pizza we’d eaten for dinner climbed up my throat. “We couldn’t ask you to do that,” I said, hoping he’d agree.

It was like I didn’t know him at all.

“Are you kidding? Man, that would be fun to do. It’d be no trouble. Might take a little bit, just because I’d need to do it between the stuff for the shop, but we’ve got it in great shape down there. I’ve got time.”

Dad smiled at Luke. No, it wasn’t a smile. He was beaming. “I can almost see it. But the only way I’ll agree is if you let me pay you.”

“For materials,” Luke insisted. “That’s all. I’m not a contractor. I’m not licensed. Some things will need to be done by the pros, like counter installation. Let me get some numbers together for you and for now, we’ll just agree to talk about it. What do you say?”

I didn’t hear my father respond, just watched him grinning and shaking Luke’s hand and looking thrilled while I panicked.

Luke wasn’t wrong—this place was a time machine, and that was exactly the way I wanted it. I’d thought Dad did too, but he’d been thinking about this, wanting to do it, and he’d never told me. Probably because he was worried that I’d feel exactly like I did. Like I’d been betrayed. Like he was ready to move on. Like he wanted to forget.

But I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to forget anything. I didn’t want to change anything. Because it would start here with the wallpaper and the kitchen where Mom had taught me to cook, and it would end with her closet cleaned out and her things gone, donated, lost forever. Where would I go when I needed her if her closet was empty? Because even now, I had a little spot under her dresses where I’d sit when I needed her. Where I’d imagine I could still smell her perfume. Where her favorite polka-dot dress hung, where the sweater with the big cable knit waited for me to slip into when I needed a hug.

I took a breath, pressed my thoughts down until they were flat. Folded them until they were small. Tucked them away in a drawer in my mind. And carried on.