Her cheeks flushed over. “Oh no. There I go talking too much. It’s nice to meet you, Emery. How about I just leave it at that.”

“Mommmm!” Reese screeched, racing into the kitchen from the backyard, wrapped up in a towel and dripping water from the pool throughout the house. “Mom! Mom! I made two new friends Catie and Garrett and they are so much cooler than Mia and Randy and and and their mom said I could go to their house sometimes and make cookies and stuff and and and, who are you?” Reese breathed out as she looked toward my parents after rambling off a million words a second.

Mom smiled to the little girl and bent down to meet her at eye level. “I’m Michelle, and this is my husband, Richard. We are Oliver’s parents.”

Reese’s eyes bugged out. “You made him?”

“That’s right,” Mom said.

“Like, he was in your stomach?”

“Yup, yup.”

“How?” Reese questioned. “He’s so big.” We all laughed, and she looked confused as to what was funny. “That’s my mom over there, and I was in her stomach when I was a baby, too,” Reese said matter-of-factly.

A flash of despair washed over Emery’s face as those words left her daughter’s mouth, and no one else caught it, because they weren’t looking her way. It disappeared as quickly as it had shown up.

“Anyway, Mom! Can I go to Catie and Garrett’s house sometime?” Reese said, coming back around to her main point.

“We’ll see, honey. But how about you get back outside. You’re dripping water all over the house.”

“Okay, Mom, thanks.” She dashed out of the room as fast as she entered, yelling, “You guys! My mom said yesssssssssss!”

“And that right there is my daughter, Reese,” Emery said. “The energetic bunny.”

“She’s adorable and looks just like you,” Mom said.

Emery simply smiled and didn’t say anything else.

Dad rubbed his hands together. “So, I’d better get a quick bite before Oliver and I get the grill going.” Without any hesitation, he dived straight into the meatball sliders, groaning in pleasure as he bit into one. “Holy moly, this is good. You weren’t kidding, son. She is amazing.”

“Amazing, huh?” Emery asked with a smirk. “You think I’m amazing.”

“Yeah, they were. You said she’s freaking amazing. I have a memory like no other,” Dad argued.

“All right, how about the two of you head outside and get the grill fired up. You’re talking too much,” I ordered, shooing my parents away.

“I can tell when we aren’t wanted. Okay. We’re going. It was a pleasure meeting you, Emery. Hoping we get some time for some girl chat later on,” Mom said, winking her way.

Why the wink, Mom?

The two of them took each other’s hand and danced their way to the backyard, because that was what my parents always did with one another—they danced and joked and loved on each other.

The only time they’d ever stopped dancing was when Alex passed away. I was happy they’d found their rhythm again.

Emery was still smirking my way with her hands on her hips.

“What?” I asked.

“You think I’m freaking amazing, huh?”

“Oh God. Don’t let it go to your head.” I dramatically rolled my eyes as I popped one of her apps into my mouth.

“Too late. The ego has been inflated. I am freaking amazing, and no one can tell me differently.”

I shrugged. “You’re average at best.”

Her jaw dropped open. “You’re lying.”

“I’m lying.”

She smiled.

I smiled.

My gosh, I was beginning to fall in love with that woman’s smile.

“I should go ahead and help my dad with the grill. But yeah.” I rocked back and forth in my shoes. “We’ll talk later.”

“Wait, before you go.” She leaned forward and rested against the countertop. “Can you tell me how freaking amazing I am?”

20

OLIVER

“Well, I’ll tell you what, that Emery girl can really cook,” Dad said as he and I sat in the studio while everyone else was outside waiting on the fireworks to begin, although they wouldn’t start for a few hours. We’d spent the past few hours celebrating the holiday outside, and I wanted to share some of my new music with him to try to get his input.

“She’s a very nice girl, too,” Dad added.

“She’s a hard girl not to like.”

“Based on her cooking skills, I see why you like her, too,” he joked. “So, is she?”

“Is she what?”

“Your girlfriend?”

“What? No. We are just . . .” What were we? Associates? Friends? Were Emery and I friends? “No. She’s not.”

“But you like her, and don’t go lying to me trying to deny it. I’m your father, and I know when you’re lying. All those years dating that Cam girl, and I ain’t ever seen you look at her the way you look at Emery. She must mean something big to you.”

I agreed. I knew it had only been a few short weeks since I’d met Emery, but she was the first woman I’d ever found myself opening up to be with. I knew if I was going to be hers, I had to crack open the layers of myself that I normally kept to myself.

“She showed up at a time that I felt extremely alone.”

“I believe that,” Dad said with a nod; then he clasped his hands together and cleared his throat. “Which brings me to my next point, a point I want to make really clear to you. It wasn’t your fault, son.”

“What?”

“What happened to Alex. It wasn’t your fault.”

I went to respond, but Dad shook his head and placed a hand on my shoulder. “I know you, son. I know how you work. And I know you’ve placed that blame on yourself. I know the media spun that story, and it probably came back to you more than it ever should’ve, but I’m here to tell you it’s not your fault.”

I clasped my hands together and looked down. “I know that’s true. It’s been hard. I don’t know how to explain it. If it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t have been in that car.”

“You can’t think like that. The fault of the accident were those idiots speeding down the road like psychopaths. I blame them for what happened to your brother, not you.”

“You don’t blame me?”

Dad sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Never. I’m here to say that thought never for a second crossed our minds. Also, you have to reach out to us when you’re struggling, Oliver. You are never a burden to your mother and me. We are always here for you, through the shitty days especially. It’s easy to have people who ride for you during the peaks, but we want you to know that we are here during the valleys. Especially during the valleys.”

I clasped my hands together again and stared down at them, my mind connecting the dots to exactly what my father was saying. “It wasn’t my fault?” I asked with a hoarse tone splitting through my words.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

A relief that I didn’t think I deserved hit me. I slowly began to let go of the guilt that I’d been hanging on to since the day Alex left my side.

I wiped my hand beneath my nose and cleared my throat. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Welcome. Now, play me some of your new music, and let me make it better.”

It was a long time ago, almost ten years, since my dad had helped me with the music in my studio, but I’d never forgotten that he was the man who’d made Alex and me fall in love with music. He introduced me to the greatest artists of all time when we were children, making sure every classic was in our lives, from Sam Cooke to Frank Sinatra. Our house was always lit up with the sounds of the greats.

Dad worked in the music industry for a while as a technician, and he was the one who’d built Alex and me our first studio when we were teenagers.

Without his guidance, none of our dreams would’ve come true.

I played the tracks for him, and he listened with an attentive ear. He usually didn’t give me feedback until a song had finished, and then he’d sit back, purse his mouth, and nod. “It’s good. It’s good.”

“But?”

He didn’t go into the buts at first—he never did. Dad wasn’t one to criticize a piece of music before pointing out all the good within it. That went for any and every song. He said every piece of art held ounces of beauty.

I was thankful for that. I needed some good feedback. “But . . . ?” I said again, after the compliments had come in.

“What if we tried this?” he asked, standing up and tweaking with the equipment. We stayed in there for hours, creating. We took pieces we’d made, broke them apart, and stitched them back together. We had . . . fun.

When we finished a song, once it had turned into something that made me feel proud, we stood in silence for a minute, almost in shock.

Dad patted me on the back and grinned. “Alex would love this.”

I smiled, because I knew he was right.

“Play it again,” Dad told me. “It’s too good not to hear again.” So I did as he said.

“Mr. Mith! Mr. Mith!” Reese chanted, racing into the studio to get my attention. She was out of breath as she waved me over. “Come on! Hurry!”

“Hurry for what?” I questioned.