I slap his back. “You’re gonna be a great father.”

He beams. “Hope so.”

“I have no doubts. I’m happy for you two. New house, a baby on the way. Life is good.”

Kenzi hops up and kisses my cheek before wrapping her arms around Tor’s waist. “Thank you, Daddy. I’ve never been happier.”

Tor kisses the top of her head. “Me either,” he says.

Ember and I may not ever get our happily ever after, but I’m positive Kenzi and Tor are going to get theirs.

After Kenzi and Tor leave, I turn off all the lights and make my way upstairs to the bedroom, still caught in the whammy of excitement and surprise. Echoes of the past follow me with each step—Kenzi’s giggle as a little girl, Ember’s lighthearted laugh and loving whispers, my own laughter and goofy singing. The familiar heartache creeps in, the one that starts as a sting in my eyes, then moves to an unbearable heaviness in my chest, and finally, stirs up a fervent ache deep in my gut.

“Good morning.” I stroll into her room. “Carnations today. Remember in high school on Valentine’s Day we would buy carnations for each other, and Mikah used to eat them?” I shake my head as I put the vase on the nightstand. “Maybe that’s what’s been wrong with him all these years. He’s still my strangest brother.”

I drag the guest chair closer to her bed. “I can’t stay too long today because I’m meeting the guys at the studio to talk about the new songs.”

I lean over the bed to kiss her cheek, and when I pull back, her green eyes follow me.

My breath catches, and my heart leaps up into my throat.

Without taking my eyes off her, I sway slightly to the left, and her eyes move with me.

“Em?” A hoarse whisper is all I’m able to summon up over my sudden ragged breaths.

Her eyes slowly close, and when she opens them again, she’s still looking right at me.

There’s no recognition glimmering behind her dark lashes, no dash of fear or awe, but there’s focus.

Gulping for breath, I turn quickly to the door, then shift my attention to the emergency button on the bedside remote, then lock eyes with her again. She’s still watching me, unmoving, like a much-too-realistic painting.

My heart rate spikes, the pounding in my chest so hard and rapid I can barely breathe. I’m petrified to move, or call the nurse, or do anything at all to break her focus and lose this moment. If I do, will it come back? Will it lead to more? Or will she slip away completely?

Trembling from head to toe, I grab her hand and squeeze it in mine. Her eyes widen just the slightest amount.

Holy. Shit.

I let out a shaky breath and dredge up my voice. “Baby, it’s okay. I’m here. Can you hear me?”

Does she know how much time has passed, or does she think we were just at the cliffs moments ago? Is she wondering how we got here in this sterile, pale-gray room?

“Everything’s okay,” I say softly.

Unaffected, her focus sweeps toward the window, and my entire body continues to shake as I hold my breath, waiting to see if she looks back at me again.

Please look at me. Please look at me. Please don’t let me be crazy. Please look at me.

I rub my thumb gently along the top of her hand. What am I supposed to do? Even though I’ve been praying for this moment forever, now that it’s here, my brain has completely short-circuited. My body has turned into a jellyfish. The world has gone into slow motion.

“I love you twice. Now and forever,” I whisper.

It’s all I can say. It’s all that’s ever mattered.

Her gaze flicks back to my face, and her finger twitches in my hand.

Oh, God.

I push the call button with my free hand, and within seconds, Sherry is in the doorway.

“I think you leaned on the button again, handsome.” She laughs, turning to leave.

“Sherry, wait! She’s looking at me, and her finger moved. I swear to God she’s looking at me.”

Forehead creasing, Sherry joins me next to the bed. “Now, Mr. Valentine, I’m sure it’s just—” She stops talking when Ember’s eyes move to focus on her.

“See!” I say. “Her eyes moved. She’s looking right at us.”

Sherry’s mouth falls open. “Oh my word, I think you’re right. Step back.” She pushes me with her body and presses another button on the console before checking the monitors.

Less than a minute later, a familiar doctor enters the room, and my heart continues to pound like the hooves of a hundred horses as they check Ember’s vitals, flash a light in her eyes, and move it across her line of vision. The doctor presses a pen into her nailbed, and I nearly jump across the room when Ember’s finger pulls back.