Two weeks after Kenzi moved to Maine I got a simple text message:

Asher: Keep the house.

It was a small olive branch of sorts, but I took it. That was about a year ago, and I haven’t seen or heard from him since. Until now.

“Am I due to get my ribs broke again?” I ask, not looking up at him.

“Very funny.” He tosses a book onto the floor next to me. Glancing at him first, I put down my polishing rag and pick the book up, realizing it’s a photo album. Actually, it’s Ember’s photo album. She’s one of the few people I know that still takes real photos and puts them in an album.

Or, she used to.

“What’s this for?” I ask. He saunters closer to me and leans against my workbench. “Something I’ve spent a lot of time looking’ at, bro. And at first, it pissed me right the fuck off. And then I kept looking, and I couldn’t deny what was right in front of me.”

“And that is?”

He pushes his long wavy hair back off his face. “Take a look. Tell me what you see.”

I have no idea what trip Asher is trying to take me on, but I lay the book on my legs and start to flip through the pages of photos, which start when Kenzi is born. At first, it’s bittersweet to see the photos of Ember holding Kenzi, so beautiful, carefree and happy, and I’m sure it was really hard for Asher to look at this and see all these pictures of Ember. There’s photos of Kenzi’s birthdays, Christmas, first day of school, playing, her first tooth, the bunny, their wedding, and family parties. My throat tightens seeing all the pictures because I miss Kenzi so damn much.

I continue to flip the pages, and I have to chuckle at how young we all look. But then I see what Asher saw, and it hits me like a wall. I’m in almost every single photo with Kenzi. I’m either holding her, or sitting on the floor playing with her. In many she’s asleep on my chest with her arms around my neck. In others, I’m holding her hand or she’s leaning against me. There’s a picture of us laying on the floor with Snuggles. There’s me teaching her to tie her shoe. There’s me pushing her on a swing. There’s her handing me presents on Christmas. There’s her sitting on my lap while I play guitar. There’s one where she’s crying and I’m kneeling in front of her, talking to her, wiping her cheek with my thumb.

We were always together. Almost always touching in some little innocent, but caring, way. Constantly drawn to each other without even realizing it. Even though I always felt it, actually seeing it captured in photos is something entirely different. It’s undeniable.

I close the book and hand it back to him, unsure of what to say. “None of that was intentional, Ash.”

“You don’t think I can see that? Yeah, I fuckin’ hate it, but it’s clear as day when I look at these pictures. You were right. You two had some kind of special bond right from the start, and as much as I want to throat punch you, I can’t deny that whatever it is, it’s real and I have no right to fuck with it. And it’s taken me months to accept that.”

“What are you saying?” Hope starts to grow in my chest as I listen to him. Is he forgiving me?

“I’m saying I get it. I don’t like it. It freaks me out something fierce. But I get it.” He picks up a screwdriver off my bench and twirls it around in his hand. “I want my daughter back in my life, Tor, and I want my best friend back. That’s still you, in case you’re wondering. And the only way that’s going to happen is if I get over this and we bury this fight. She won’t come back if we hate each other.”

I’m almost thrown speechless by his unexpected admission. “So, you’re saying you’re okay with us being together?”

He crosses his arms and looks up at the ceiling, then back down at me. “I’m not exactly okay with it, but I’m willing to deal with it if it’ll bring her back and fix this mess.”

I stand and wipe my hands on my jeans, feeling like I’m in a type of shock. “I’m not sure what to say, except thanks. And I want my best friend back, too. And I want the love of my life back.”

Sadness crosses his face and I regret how my words just accidentally came out. “Yeah, I know what that feels like, man,” He blows out a deep breath. “I’m calling Kenzi tonight to let her know we’re good now,” he tilts his head. “Are we good?”