There’s a teeny-tiny part of me that knows I should be angry. When navigating the rocks across my emotional river, I picture Grady on the other side, arms folded and looking intense. I could hop onto the angry rock and stay there, blaming and hating him for what he’s cost me.

But how can I hate the man who held my hair back when I heaved? Or held my hand when I cried? Or held me together when I was dying? Stay with me, Marina.

Hate simply isn’t in my vocabulary, not for Grady Tripp. Besides, he takes in wounded pets and doesn’t mind getting down and dirty with farm animals—what decent person could hate a man like that?

I finish checking off the floral delivery, resisting the urge to move the arrangements into their proper places. I can’t lift anything heavy yet. The other morning, I picked up Hershey as he tried stealing Sunkist’s food and nearly fell over. I hobble through the small chapel, aching from being on my feet too long.

Returning to work early was probably foolish, but survival wins over aches and pains. Securing the job and a steady paycheck topped my priorities, even with Cora’s vile, keep-your-mouth-shut money. I still haven’t cashed her $25,000 severance check. I will, of course. That’s more money than I’ve ever had at one time, more than I’ve ever seen. But I’m waiting until I need it.

That’ll be soon.

I step and click through the wide hallway, with its pseudo-soothing landscapes and cushy chairs. Even the lighting is dimmed to set the correct mood. A low hum of conversation comes from the casket room where Liam meets with clients—I know not to disturb them under any circumstances. I made that mistake on my first day. He said I was too friendly, as if happy they were there.

But I’m always happy to be around people, even if they’re sad. Oh, well. Another thing to work on.

It’ll be great—I know it.

The wide double doors at the main entrance scrape and swing open as I approach them, screeching through the quiet hall. A formidable force barrels through the doors.

My heart pitter-patters seeing him, but then it registers that he’s upset and I sink with worry.

“Grady? What’s wrong? Is everyone okay?” I demand too loudly.

Liam pokes his head out of the casket room with irritation. “Marnie, shhh.”

“Sorry, Liam,” I whisper back. My attention returns to Grady, and my arms lift to meet his, even though I have my cane. He braces me, hooking my cane to his forearm like I don’t need it if he’s around. “Has something happened? You look distraught.”

“You frustrate me—that’s what happened. You shouldn’t be here.”