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She places a hand on the side of my face, and I cover it with my own. “I didn’t want you to worry about me. I didn’t want to be one more person you have to take care of.”

She brushes her thumb across my cheekbone. “Remember when you said sometimes you want to do nice things for me because you can?”

Reluctantly, I nod, knowing exactly where her line of thinking is taking us.

“Well, it goes both ways, Zara. You are not one more person I have to take care of. You are theoneperson Iwantto take care of. Knowing you would be here alone?” She shakes her head, as if the thought itself is too much to bear. “I was mad and hurt and so fucking worried.”

“I’m sorry,” I repeat. “I’m sorry for making you feel that way. I’m sorry for forcing your hand with Raine.”

She presses a finger to my lips, silencing me. “I don’t need your apologies. I just need you to be okay.”

I’m not, not right now. But with her here, I know I will be, and that makes me feel lighter than I have in two years.

“And Raine,” she adds. “I planned to tell her anyway.”

“How did she take it?”

Her shoulder rises and falls. “She was shocked, but there kind of wasn’t any time to process. I told her that I’m the one who wanted to keep it a secret and to not blame you for that, and that if she helped me get here on time, she can ask us anything.”

“Did she help you?” I ask, knowing my daughter well enough to already know the answer.

“She did. She even thanked me for being here for you before she left the cemetery.” Clementine’s expression turns empathetic. “I’d say right now she’s more worried about you than she is about us.”

Isn’t that the truth.

The fact that I had attempted to shield my grief from Raine, Jesse, and Leo, only to have this very public breakdown, has a sliver of shame trying to settle heavy on my chest, almost like a little voice telling me I failed. Instead of listening, I focus on Clementine and do my best to push it all away, knowing there’s no sustainability in the way I was trying to handle Lola’s death.

“Are you ready to meet my family?” I ask, distracting myself from my thoughts and easing her to the front door.

“I was up until now,” she jokes.

“They’ll love you.” Her expression softens, and I let those three words sit between us. Three words I’ve wanted to say for weeks, and now they don’t seem even close to being enough.

“Thank you for being here.” I press my mouth to hers and whisper against her lips, “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

The kiss is quick but comforting, for the both of us. With her hand in mine, I open the front door and let myself in. It takes all of five seconds for three sets of eyes to find us, and the look of concern on each one of their faces makes me feel even more guilty than I already do.

The three of them are seated around the square dining table, Leo and Jesse on one side, Raine on the other, and two plate settings are set up for Clementine and me opposite the two men.

Jesse’s the first one to break the silence, rising up off his seat and gesturing for us to sit down. “Come,” he says. “Food always makes everything better.”

When we reach the table, he holds his hand out to Clementine. “I’m Jesse,” he says, introducing himself. “And this is my husband, Leo.”

Clementine shakes his hand and then takes Leo’s, who is now standing beside him. “I’m Clem. Zara’s girlfriend.”

She said the word with such pride, I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face, remembering just how hard I had to convince her to give us an actual go. Now I’m certain she would wear a sticker on her forehead if I asked her to.

As we take our seats, I can’t help but glance at Raine. “Is this okay?”

I know there’s no rush to get all the hard conversations out of the way, but my brain just wouldn’t let sleeping dogs lie, even for a little bit. There’s a huge elephant sitting in the room with us, and I can’t sit here and eat with everyone if I don’t at the very least address some of it.

Looking at me pensively, Raine ignores my question and asks her own. “Are you okay?”

I imagine what she’s asking to be the one thing everybody at the table wants an answer to, and for the sake of ridding my daughter of the concerned expression on her face, I nod.

“Things just caught up to me,” I say truthfully. “I thought I had dealt with Lola’s death, but in reality, I neglected myself while worrying about everyone else.”

“Zara.” Hearing Leo say my name across the dining table has more tears filling my eyes. I know how much guilt he holds for the way he dealt with his daughter’s death, and I don’t need him to feel guilty about this too.