Her father’s mistakes had cost them everything. It was hard not to be livid with him. It was hard not to want him to suffer now that his secret was out. Yet it hadn’t been too long ago she was certain it was her own mistakes that had been what cost them everything. What she would’ve given for someone—anyone—to offer her grace.

A knock at the door pulled her from the boxes she was sorting. She was embarrassed that Mr. Holbrook would have to sit in the middle of this mess, but she imagined he would understand.

When she opened the door, however, she saw that the lawyer wasn’t alone.

She hadn’t seen Cody since the funeral, which felt like an eternity ago. He looked the same, mostly, though maybe a little more tired than usual. She resisted the urge to ask if he’d been sleeping, if he’d been eating, if he still loved her.

Sometimes when she got really lonely, she took out her phone and scrolled through photos they’d taken during their brief romantic reunion. Selfies, mostly, but probably her favorite photos ever. She’d zoom in on his face and, filled with the kind of longing that would only go away with time, touch her index finger to his smile.

Now Cody stood on Maggie’s porch, avoiding her eyes and certainly setting her healing back days, maybe even weeks. She would love him until the day she died—she was sure of it.

She tried to hide every single thought that floated through her mind as she opened the door wider to allow both men to enter. “Sorry about the mess.” She inhaled as Cody passed by her but noticed (sadly) that he barely acknowledged her. The realization stung.

“The old girl sure liked to hold on to things, didn’t she?” Mr. Holbrook’s laugh was jolly, as if remembering Maggie should only bring happiness. As if Louisa’s world weren’t lying in pieces like a cracked egg on the kitchen floor.

At the silence, the lawyer straightened. “Right. Let’s get to it then, shall we?”

Louisa glanced at Cody. “I didn’t realize anyone else would be here.”

He met her eyes then, and she realized it sounded accusatory, like he didn’t have the right to come, which was, of course, not how she meant it. Somehow, though, she didn’t have the ability to explain.

“Just the two of you,” he said, his tone jovial.

“Please.” Louisa motioned to the sofa and both men sat, leaving her with the armchair across from them. Maggie’s favorite chair sat horribly empty.

All at once, the room seemed dead without her in it.