Reagan sat on her mom’s couch as they indulged in their New Year’s Eve tradition of watching Return to Me. They had watched it as a family one year when she was a teenager, and for a reason Reagan couldn’t remember, they watched it every year since before the ball dropped at midnight in Times Square. When they started it tonight, she was afraid it would be too much for her or her mom, and they’d end up shutting it off and crying. But it never happened. The jokes in the movie hit a little differently this year with her dad gone, but anytime the four older guys popped on the screen, she imagined her dad sitting next to her and chuckling, and it brought a bittersweet smile to her face.

As the credits rolled, she grabbed the empty popcorn and candy bowls, but her mom stopped her with a hand on her arm. “I got this. Want another beer?”

“Yes, please.”

She unlocked her phone for what had to be the fifth time in the last hour to look at the text message she’d received from Jill on Christmas Eve.

I miss you.

Those three words had been etched on her mind since she’d received them. She’d opened her phone dozens of times since, wanting to reply, but she always stopped herself. She didn’t want to admit how much power those words had over her. Part of her wanted to stay angry at Jill, but the rest of her wanted to text her, call her, go see her. Maybe I should send her a repl…

Her mom sat next to her. “You’re going to burn a hole in that phone.”

She dropped the phone onto the couch. “What?”

“I’ve caught you staring at that message three times tonight. It’s from Jill, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. She sent it on Christmas Eve.”

“What did she say? Did you answer?”

She sighed as she took the bottle of beer that her mom held out for her. “She told me she misses me. And no. I haven’t said anything.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know what to say. Or if I even want to say anything at all.”

“Do you miss her?”

She stared at the bottle and began peeling off the label. “I don’t want to, but I do,” she whispered.

“Why don’t you want to?”

“Because I want to be angry with her. Missing the benefit showed me what was important to her. And it wasn’t me. Then with the check…I felt like she was buying me off. Shoving it in my face that she could throw around her money as if it would make everything better. It felt awful. She hurt me.”

“I know she did, sweetheart.”

She turned at the placating tone in her mom’s voice. “Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ in there somewhere?”