When Oliver pulled up to a park in front of a rather large playground, I turned to him with raised eyebrows. “A park?” I questioned.

“Yep.” He smiled, looking pleased with himself, before hopping out of the driver’s seat and jogging around to my side to open my door.

He took my hand and led me up a short sidewalk to the empty, colorful jungle gym.

“Swings,” he said proudly. “You said you liked them, right?”

I barely remembered the time I’d told him I sometimes thought about swinging in the park across the street from my old condo. “We’re too old.” Even as I said it, I climbed onto the swing, my smile huge.

Oliver waved his arms around at the empty park. “Good thing there’s no one around to see.”

“I can’t believe you remembered.”

He dipped his chin. “Frankie, give me a little credit.”

I gave him more credit than he could ever know. He was unique. Not to mention kind, thoughtful, genuine, and loyal.

I should have said all that to him, but instead, I focused ahead and started to rock back and forth on the swing, my legs kicking beneath me. The clouds from earlier in the day had cleared, leaving a bright orange and pink sunset in the distance. Soon, stars would start to poke out. It felt like a little Colorado gift for one of my last nights here.

I looked over to Oliver, who was swinging next to me now, a huge grin plastered to his face.

“How could we ever be too old for this?” he called.

Laughing, I tossed my head back, appreciating how uninhibited I felt any time he was around. Would I dare go to a playground and swing by myself in New York? Oliver made me feel brave enough to try anything. I hoped even a fraction of his boldness had rubbed off on me.

After a few more minutes, I let my feet graze the ground, abruptly halting the swing’s momentum. I came to a stop, swaying back and forth. I turned toward him.

He stared at me instead of ahead. When I caught his gaze, he winked before leaning back in the swing, pumping aggressively, and launching himself off it. He landed a perfect backflip.

“Show off,” I said.

He walked toward me and grabbed both chains of my swing in his hands, caging me in. “I’ve got to impress you somehow.”

“You impress me all the time.”

Something flashed in his eyes. He cleared his throat. “I wanted to thank you again. For spending time with my mom. I know it must have been awkward, but it really helped having you there.”

“You don’t need to thank me for that.” I watched him closely, catching a fleeting glimpse of the uncertain side of him that I only saw on rare occasions. “I’m glad I got to meet her.”

He smiled. “Me too.”

Silence stretched between us, the weight of our separation hanging in the air. I was trying to ignore it—to be present, here in this moment—but it was all I could think about.