“Some of it,” he said, “I miss who I was when I was here, the strength of my convictions back then. Manhattan is so tied up in us, though, for me. The mind-blowing amazing parts—”

“And the shitty parts, too,” Emily said.

“They were pretty shitty,” Rob said. “I don’t think I handled things the way I should have. The way I would, if it were now, if I’d been older, more mature. I’m sorry I didn’t try to understand more of how you felt.”

A taxi stopped next to them, the driver asking if they needed a ride. Emily shook her head, and the driver sped off.

“I’m sorry, too,” Emily said. “For not giving it more time, for breaking up everything, for taking my grief out on you. I was such a mess. I made everything a mess.”

Rob reached for her hand and squeezed it.

“I was angry with you for a while,” he said. He didn’t let go of her hand.

“I was angry with myself,” Emily said. “All I kept thinking about was what I lost and how it was all my fault—you, music, the . . . the baby we made together.”

Rob stopped walking and looked at her. He grabbed her other hand, so their bodies were connected in a circle, nothing beginning, nothing ending. “I’m sorry I was such an asshole about that. I’m sorry I said it wasn’t real. I thought about it when Corinne was pregnant with the girls. I thought about what a jerky thing it was for me to say. To believe. It was easier, I guess. But it made everything worse. I should’ve been better. I should’ve been there with you, you know? We could’ve felt it together.” He took a deep breath and shook his head. “That would’ve been one awesome kid.”

Emily couldn’t speak, because she knew if she tried, no words would come out. Just sobs.

Rob could tell and let go of her hands so he could wrap his arms around her. She laid her head against his chest. “It’s okay,” he said, like he used to, when she would tumble into grief about her mom. “I got you.”

His touch was so calming, so soothing. She took a deep breath. Tears had made it to her eyelashes but didn’t travel any farther. “I’m okay,” she said softly. “I’m okay now.”

He pulled back to look her in the eye. “Yeah?” he said, his breath soft.

“Yeah,” she answered, looking back at him, seeing the depth of his concern in his eyes. “I really am.”

“Emily,” he whispered.

She felt it. The smoldering ember had become a flame. Heat crackled and popped. It danced inside them, between them, around them.