“Yep, got it. Thanks, man.” He hangs up. “Got three hits on the kid’s boutiques. Chicago’s the closest. We’ll go first thing?”

I nod. Hope surges. There will be a next step. Though he doesn’t speak, I know the apology he’s already forming in his head.

“Bec…”

“Don’t.” I straighten my clothes and attempt to calm my nerves. “I’m going to head up, okay? Let me know if you need anything.”

His fingers encircle my wrist when I pass him. “Are we okay?”

I nod. The baby starts crying, and I extract my hand. “We’re fine.”

I remove a bottle from the refrigerator and climb the stairs to tend to a baby that’s not mine. Downstairs is a man who was once mine and now isn’t. And yet here we are, caught in a tangled web where we almost just kissed. Life keeps tricking and challenging me with its hardships, tragedy, and time. But grief doesn’t stop a life. It doesn’t cause the whole world to stand still with you, because there are still bills to pay, friendships to keep, and relationships to forge. There’s school, work, grocery shopping, and health crises. Emergencies. More loss, even when you think you can’t possibly bear it.

I pick up the baby, sit in the rocking chair, and feed him from the bottle. Jackson used to be my reprieve from all the heaviness of life. Even in just a few short months, I could sit still with him in this chair—just the two of us—and we were independent of our losses. He wasn’t a son without a father. I wasn’t a wife without a husband. We were just mother and son, bonded.

I adjust the bottle and the baby’s head. My heart breaks for this little unwanted boy. I check his temperature again, but his forehead is cool, his breathing already better than it was. It makes me feel good—however ridiculous—to know that I can take care of someone who needs it.

I pause mid-rock and wonder: who will ever take care of me?

You will. The words are hard but true. My eyes snap open. Jess is right. Every time someone has attempted to help, I rebuff them or they disappear. Crystal pops into my head again. She’s the only one who really gets this level of grief, who clings to it but then also has to let it go because life marches on regardless.