Chase looks out toward the interstate and his cheek flexes from clenching his jaw. For the first time, it occurs to Joy how Dylan’s death must have affected him. He lost his cousin, best friend, and business partner. The loss must have been devastating.

He brings his gaze back to her. Regret twists his expression. “I wish you guys did.”

“So do I.” There are so many decisions she wishes that she made differently. “But that’s all retrospect. There isn’t anything we can do about it now but try to live our lives the best we can.”

Chase watches her for a long moment. “You’re a remarkable woman, Joy. I see why Dylan loved you.”

Joy smiles sadly. What she wouldn’t give to hear Dylan say those words.

The pressure in her chest moves up to her throat. “Goodbye, Chase.” It takes everything in her to keep her voice calm.

“Take care, Joy.”

Chase politely waits as she gets into her car before he settles in his. He rolls down the passenger window and gives her a short wave before backing out. His luxury sports car rockets onto the highway before she can press the Mini’s ignition button. Her phone automatically syncs with the car, and with a jittery finger, she starts Dylan’s recording.

“Hello, Joy.” His voice, liquid gold, fills the interior. Memories of him and their trip pour into her head and an image so vivid of him riding alongside her appears that she feels like he’s there. That she can reach across the seat and slide her hand in his. The wind blows his hair, the convertible top open, his arm relaxed on the door. A smile stretches wide amid the sexy shadow of stubble. He challenges her in a road trip game, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Emotions she’s kept on the back burner flame bright. A desperate sense of loss carves out her chest. Tears run freely down her cheeks.

“Hi, Dylan,” she whispers back at the recording.

“I have a confession and an apology,” he begins, then pauses. “Guess I’ll start with the confession. I didn’t honor our deal.”

Which one? she wonders.

“Any of our deals,” the recording continues and Joy lightly laughs. Then she cries, because he sounds so down on himself. “Believe it or not, I knew your last name from almost the moment we met. I saw it on the credit card you used at Rob’s. Joy Evers. Evermore. Ever mine, or I’d like to think so. I’ve thought about you, every day. I looked you up all the time. I set up a Facebook account. I know, crazy. Pigs are flying. But I wanted to see your posts. I guess I wanted . . . I don’t know. A sign that you missed me, too?