“I want to,” she said. “I’m sure. I want to be a family, Parker. I want to have a future.”

I put my hands on her cheeks and kissed her lips. I put my forehead on hers and said, “Liabelle, that is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard. And I agree. Those babies would complete this weird, convoluted circle.” I felt invincible. “And, Lia, I’m going to quit McCann.”

“Are you crazy?” she practically shouted. “You can’t quit McCann. We’re going to have a baby, for heaven’s sake. We need health insurance, benefits, salaries.” She paused and took a deep breath. “No one is quitting McCann.” Then she added, “Plus, they’re George’s grandchildren. We’re family forever.”

I nodded, laughing and pulling her close to me. “Okay, okay. You’re right. Health insurance is good.” Then I paused. “Wait. Are you only doing this so that I’ll be the last source for your frozen embryo story?”

We both laughed and then sat there soaking in the quiet, the view, the perfection of this moment when we decided to become a family.

“I’m scared,” she whispered. “What if it doesn’t work again? What if they don’t take?”

“Whatever happens, we’ll get through it together.” I leaned back and looked at her face. And I knew then that this woman who I had loved since I was fourteen years old just might marry me. I would ask her, I decided firmly. Now all I had to do was pray that she said yes.

Amelia WRITTEN IN THE STARS

I STILL CAN’T SAY WHY I did it, why I agreed to Greer’s crazy proposal when she came to me a mere three months before her death. Maybe because it was Greer, and I knew this was one of the last favors she would ever ask. Maybe some sort of delusional type of hero worship. My instinct, when she showed up in my Palm Beach apartment, was a hard, fast no. But, for some reason, it just wouldn’t come out of my mouth.

“Why me?” I asked. “Why not your sister?”

I could feel the energy in the room starting to shift. It was like the more panicked I became, the calmer she got, like I could almost see the energy leaving her and transferring into me.

“Why not one of your friends?” I asked.

“Because I don’t trust them,” she snapped.

Now things were starting to come back into focus for me; I was starting to see things more clearly, more rationally. I mean, I could do this. Every article I’d ever written, every interview I’d done, it had all been leading up to this moment. Because, with every profile piece, every emotional article, wasn’t I becoming the person I was writing about?

Every Greer selfie and vacation Instagram post and witty column was merging in my head, forming a vision of her, but also making me wonder if my vision of her was correct. Could I capture her complexity in a meaningful way?