Every day since then, I had longed to hold her in my arms again. When I found out about those embryos, I really thought I had found a way. But as I watched Amelia pack her bags, I knew that Greer was, definitively, gone. I would never get her back. I would never hold her in my arms again. Not even half of her.

“Do you have to go, Amelia?” I finally asked.

Tears standing in her eyes, she said, “You’re trying to have your dead wife’s babies, Parker. How can I stay?”

She was right. I had been holding on to the past so hard that I couldn’t even imagine the future. But if I could, if I was ready, would she still walk away? I wanted to ask, but the words wouldn’t come.

Until she told me otherwise, a part of me could wonder—maybe even hope—that, by leaving, Amelia was opening a window for the possibility of us. Or, better yet, a door.

Amelia CLEAN SLATE

AS I PACKED MY BAGS in my room at the octagon house, the view of the sun glinting off the water so bright that I had to squint, Parker watched me quietly, sitting in a chair in the corner.

I had let myself do the unthinkable: I had let myself feel something for Parker. Not just in a neighborly way, but in a loving, warm, maybe-we-could-be-together kind of way.

And now I had failed him. I was mortified. Oh, the way I had gone on and on about knowing that I was pregnant. What an idiot. This year had been nothing but one huge failure after another, and I just needed to go. I needed a clean slate.

Parker could never, ever know what I had been thinking, how I had envisioned a future for us. He was Greer’s and Greer’s alone, forever. Anyone could see that. I had thought for a moment that maybe we could open up to each other, that the love of a really good man could heal my heart. But now that I had crushed his dreams in the biggest possible way, I couldn’t stay here. I couldn’t face his pain and know that I had caused it.

One of my goals this year was to be bolder, braver, to take more chances. This was a big chance, but, really, what did I have to lose? Worst case, he wasn’t interested, and I could go home, nurse my wounds, and move on.

I wasn’t going to confess my undying love or anything. I just wanted to ask if he felt what I felt or if it had been the hormones. An hour earlier, right after we had gotten home from the doctor’s office, I walked quietly down the hall into his room, where I could see him standing, his back to me. When I saw what he was doing, I knew that there wasn’t a chance for us. In his hands was a picture of Greer. He had told me over and over that she was the only one for him, but I hadn’t quite believed it. But, of course, it was true. He had done all of this for her. I had been the one to crush his dreams.