The day after I let Aaron go, I was wallowing at home—no fancy way to put it—and I couldn’t stop seeing his grief-stricken face. I’d been witness to it a few times in the past months, like when Dennis had to go to the hospital, or when he’d been given the news that we wouldn’t be going to trial. The last time I’d seen it was the night before, when I’d told him we were over. And while it kept flashing again and again in my head, I could only try to think of ways for him to never look like that again. I didn’t have magical solutions to make his father’s aphasia suddenly go away, or to make his tasks at home less of a burden, but I did think of one thing I could work on: him having to manage the farm. It made no sense for him to abandon his dream job only to do something he doesn’t enjoy. I had to think through different scenarios, and it took me days of hitting dead ends. Until one night, as I was trying but failing to fall asleep, it hit me: Finn. I remembered the way he’d spoken about working on the farm, like it was his perfect job. He seemed happy in Sonder Hill. Plus, he was a perfect fit. I know Aaron, and he probably wouldn’t have trusted anyone else to handle Evermore. So I took a leap and reached out to Finn.

Eyes brimming with tears, I hug my phone to my chest. This is the best outcome that could’ve happened. I hope having this weight lifted off his shoulders has made Aaron happy. No one deserves it more than him. He should have everything and more. Even if I can’t be the one to directly give it to him.

A knock comes from my office door, making me jump. Quickly, I wipe my thankfully makeup-free eyes, then say, “Yes?”

The door opens, and in comes Selina, a warm smile on her lips. However, the moment she sees me, her happy expression is replaced by a worried one. “Are you okay?”

“Sure, yeah,” I say, nodding.

Her head tilts to the left, but she doesn’t push me on it.

“The girls and I are going out for a drink. Wanna come?”

For the first time in my life, I feel the urge to tell her yes.

It’s easy to find comfort in being alone when you’ve done it your whole life. Humans are creatures of habit, after all.