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The line today has been seemingly never-ending, but in another hour, we’ll move from the chapel where we’re currently having the visitation over to the church for the funeral. It’s hard to feel at peace with his passing given everything I’ve learned about him recently, yet here we are, putting on the act in front of family, friends, and, of course, members of the congregations he’s led over his many years as pastor.

Maybe this act is my final service to him. To the church. To this former life of mine.

“Oh, honey,” Sue Higgins says to me, pulling me into a hug. “You’ve grown into such a gorgeous young woman. I can’t believe how many years it’s been.”

I squeeze her tightly. “How’s Tristan?” I ask softly.

She offers a small smile. “He’s doing well.” I want her to tell me more, I want to ask her more—like whether Tristan will be here today, whether we’ll have a meeting nearly seven long years in the making after far too many years apart…but the line behind the Higgins family is long. My father was a cornerstone of not just Fallon Ridge but also of the surrounding towns.

“Tessa Taylor,” Russ Higgins booms in that way he has where he has the uncanny ability to make you feel special just by saying your name. He’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, and so is his wife. Tristan’s parents are good, salt of the Earth type people, and they raised their boy to be the same way. “How have you been, young lady?”

I shake my head and offer a smile. “Living the dream in Chicago.”

“That’s what I hear from your parents,” he says, taking my hand and squeezing it. “I’m so happy for you.”

I can’t help but wonder what, exactly, he’s heard from my parents…and how much of what he’s heard is actually true. I’d venture to guess not much of it is accurate given the fact that he’s so happy for me.

The line keeps moving, my time with Tristan’s parents painfully short, and when I glance at who’s coming up next after we greet some long-distance cousins of my mother’s, I murmur in shock, “Oh my God.”

Cameron Foster wraps an arm around me as he pulls me into a hug.

“What are you doing here?” I whisper.

“Just making sure you’re okay.” His voice is rich and velvety in my ear, and he keeps his poker face firmly in place as I look beyond him at the next person in line.

“Paul,” I whisper, my eyes filling with tears as I let go of Cam to hug my boss.

Now if there’s anybody who’s been a father figure to me since I moved from Fallon Ridge to Chicago, it’s Paul.

I think he’s been more of a father to me than the man whose life we’re celebrating today.

“Marsha and Sara both wanted to be here today, but someone had to stay back and keep things afloat at Lakeshore. Both send their condolences,” Paul says.

“Thank you.” I squeeze him a little tighter before I let him go. I know what a sacrifice it is for him to be here for me today. He doesn’t know anything about my relationship with my father, yet he came all this way to be by my side today.

And Cam.

My heart races as I think about what sort of schedule rearranging Cam had to have made to be here today. I don’t know much about him personally, but I know he’s a damn good pediatric surgeon and he always has a full schedule at the hospital.

“Thank you both so much for being here,” I say. “I can’t express how much it means.” It means very different things that they’re each here—for Paul, it means he cares about me as his employee, that he wants to make sure I’m okay. And for Cam…well, I’m not sure what it means, exactly. Maybe he tagged along with Paul. Maybe it means more. Maybe it means that thing over his desk really could happen again.

I want to get him alone to find out.

The visitation ends, and immediate family only gets to say our final goodbyes.

I don’t know what to say to him, so instead, I say a prayer in my mind for peace.

Peace for both of us.

We move into the church, and my mom and I take our seats in the first row. A pastor from a nearby Methodist church is handling the ceremony, someone my dad was good friends with, and from the way things went at the visitation today, the more I see that he was good friends with practically everyone he ever met.

I’m surprised when I see Paul and Cam standing at the end of my row, and I nod for them to join us. Cam moves into the pew first, which means he’ll be sitting next to me at my father’s funeral.

The pinch of tears heats behind my eyes as I remember his words after he ravaged me in his office. I think about how used he made me feel.

And now he’s here beside me, and I’m so epically confused.

The service begins with a hymn, and I guess Cam assumes the tears are because of the reason we’re here. I glance up at him as I wipe away a tear, and he presses his lips together in sympathy before he reaches down for my hand. He squeezes it, and then he puts his arm around my waist to give me a little side hug.

I sigh.

Part of me wants it to be like this—for him to be the man I turn to in my grief, to confess the sins of my past, to tell him everything my dad put me through, to talk through my very confusing feelings as I attend this funeral with a woman who claims to be my half-sister sitting a few rows back.

The other part of me still hates him.

Why is he the one sitting beside me at my father’s funeral?

Just because he’s the last guy I slept with doesn’t give him the right to be here. We hardly know each other.

And yet…that little hand squeeze? That little side hug?

They were far more comforting than I care to admit.

Still, though, something about it feels off.

And I know what it is.

It doesn’t matter that almost seven years have passed. It won’t matter if a hundred more years pass. When you meet your soul mate and he’s ripped away from you, nobody can ever take his place.

The problem with having Cam beside me today is that he’s not Tristan.