“Do they…are they all, um, happy about this? Us? I haven’t seen them since Thanksgiving, and we were just friends then. I’m a little worried what they think about it.”

“They’re thrilled. They love you, my mom especially. And Jeni, of course. Valerie couldn’t care less, as long as I’m happy.”

“What about Rhonda? I get the feeling she doesn’t like me much.”

Andrew shook his head. “Don’t worry about Rhonda. She’s the moodiest of the bunch, and the most protective. She’s always looking at the negative side of things and expects the worst. She’ll come around.”

Her concerned expression didn’t change.

Andrew kissed her once more. “I mean it,” he said. “Don’t let her get to you.”

“You say it like it’s easy.”

“It is. But then again, I’ve had twenty-six years to get used to her…but I promise you—it’s just her personality. Once she gets to know you, she’ll love you as much as I do.”

She raised an eyebrow at that.

He grinned. “Okay, not quite as much as I do. But close.” He tightened his arms around her and brushed his cheek along her soft hair, loving the feel of her against his body. “I don’t think anyone has ever loved anyone as much as I love you.”

She slipped her arms around his torso. “I don’t think anyone ever will love anyone as much as I love you.”

“Don’t try to one-up me.”

“I’m competitive by nature. Get used to it.”

He leaned her back against the cushions and sealed his mouth over hers, determined to prove her wrong.

…

Two days before his last chemo treatment, Andrew was alone at his apartment studying when a knock sounded at the door. He grinned and jumped up, hoping Lauren had decided to back out of her plans for a girl’s night and come over instead.

He swung open the door and froze.

“Dad?”

His father stood on his welcome mat, wearing his signature Wranglers and a flannel button-up, hands buried deep in his pockets. His weathered skin looked darker than Andrew remembered, and his previously brown hair was peppered with gray.

“Hi,” his dad said. “Can I come in?”

Speechless, Andrew stepped back and held the door open wide. His dad took a few steps inside and stopped.

Andrew walked past him and pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. “What are you doing here?”

His dad rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. He stood in the middle of the living room and turned to face Andrew. “I came to see how you were doing.”

Andrew just sat there, waiting for more. When none came, he simply said, “I’m fine. Last chemo is on Friday. At least, I hope it’s the last one.”