I giggle to myself, picturing a flustered Caroline bathed in flour, batter smudged on crooked glasses. I have to admit, the thought makes me love her a tiny bit more, too. Love is a funny thing—the good, bad, and peculiar roll themselves up into the emotion, making the relationship and the person unique and irreplaceable.

“Thank you for keeping your cooking abilities to yourself. Let’s leave the baking to Marlo, shall we?”

“That’s an outstanding idea.” Caroline nods with a laugh. Her expression grows cloudy, and her mouth turns down at the edges. “I’ve never considered remarrying. That part of my life ended when Robert left me. I’ve never wanted anyone else.”

I unfold my legs and reach across Caroline’s desk, squeezing her clasped hands. She squeezes back and draws away. She clears the emotions from her throat and eyes me expectantly.

“Did you catch the message in my story? Did you pick out the part I wanted you to hear?”

I search my brain, but come up empty. “The whole story is important, no? It’s about love that stands the test of time—what could be more important than that?”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right, but it’s not the message I’m trying to get across to you. I told you I never wanted anyone else. And isn’t that the key?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.” I sigh in frustration. Caroline stands up and sits across from me.

“What I mean, Celia, is if there ever comes a day where my heart wants to try again, I have every intention of letting it. Robert would want that for me, too. He would want happiness for me. And that, my dear, is the difference between you and me.”

I pull my keys out of my purse and get ready to leave. I see where she’s going now, and there’s no use in exploring it any further. She’s right, there is a difference between us, but she’s got the details all wrong. Her husband’s death was decisive. His life ended. I, on the other hand, am stuck in limbo. The finality of her situation makes us as different as night and day.

“Sit down, I’m not done yet.” Her harsh tone surprises me, but I do as she says. “I don’t know the entire story here, about Lucas or Cain, and I don’t want to know until you’re ready to tell me. But don’t lie to me, and don’t lie to yourself. There is want in your eyes, girl. You need to know it’s okay to move on.”

“Except that it’s not,” I say.

My words are strong and decisive, leaving no room for argument, but when has Caroline ever cared about that? She loves me and all the other volunteers like we are an extension of her family, and she wants to see us happy. I wish for the same thing, but it’s just not possible right now—at least not in the way Caroline is talking about.

Caroline huffs and leans back in her chair, eyes full of disappointment. “I’m not in the habit of changing stubborn minds. I find that time and heartache are the only sure fire remedies for that. But let me say one more thing before you go. Your feelings for Cain have nothing to do with how you feel about Lucas. One does not overshadow the other—both are important and needed. First loves aren’t always last loves, but they can certainly pave the way for the truly great ones. I’d hate for you to miss out on greatness while trying to turn back time.”

Her words hit home, and quite frankly, I don’t think I can take one more pep talk from my friends. I know they mean well, but I don’t need to be reminded of what I’m losing. I know all too well.

I smile graciously and stand. I lean in and hug Caroline, staying in her arms a little longer, squeezing a little tighter.

“Thank you, Caroline. I appreciate the advice.” I walk to the doorway and turn with a smile. “Lock you in?”

She presses her lips together and shakes her head. She sees right through me. “Sure, Cece. That will be fine.”

“Good night.”

As I walk to my car, I’m flooded with thoughts of first loves, last loves, and true happiness. Before all of these new feelings, before Cain, I felt content in my life. I cared for my patients and helped them lead fuller lives. I made a makeshift family with friends I adore. I made the most of what little time I had with Lucas. It was enough.

But now, in the wake of greatness, those things seem less fulfilling, less satisfying, just … less.

I have to come to terms with my new old life. Patients, family, and Lucas will fuel my days, and the occasional glimpses of Cain will feed my heart and soul. It will be enough.

Because it has to be.

“Where I Stood” by Missy Higgins

Present Day

I PULL INTO the driveway, and my heart stutters at the sight of Cain’s truck parked in Adam’s driveway. It’s been too long since I’ve seen him. I crave him, even if it’s just for a moment, even if I know the aftermath will be crippling. A small reprieve from the constant ache is worth the hurt I’ll endure later.

I walk to my mailbox at a snail’s pace, hoping he’ll step out of the house. I flip through the mail and mentally fist pump when I see Adam’s electricity bill in my mail pile. Now I have a reason to walk next door—it’s fate, really.

There’s pep in my step as I cross the yard, and I hum to myself with a silly smile plastered on my face. I tap three times on the screen door before peeking my head in.

“Adam? Sara?”

Sara flies through the kitchen door, her eyes wide and her mouth shaped in an “O.” I giggle at her surprised look and bound through the screen door.

“Hey girl, I come bearing mail,” I sing-song, waving the envelope in front of me and walking farther into the kitchen.

“Oh, thank you.” She grabs the envelope from me and walks toward the door. “I’ll be sure to give it to Adam.”

She stands in front of the door and opens it, and if I didn’t know better, I swear she’s trying to get rid of me. I eye her suspiciously and wait for another explanation, but she remains silent.

“Sara, can I grab another beer for—oh, hello.”

Sara visibly tenses as I turn around and check out the new voice in the room. Her appearance matches the screechy quality of her voice. She’s pretty enough, but all of her features are a bit … larger than life. Hair blacker than nature intended, lips much too big for the face they inhabit, and boobs pointy enough to give Madonna a run for her money. I snap out of my rude and judgmental daze and offer her my hand in greeting. If she’s a friend of Sara’s, I’m sure she’s a sweetheart, and I instantly feel guilty for my silent insults.

“Hi, I’m so sorry to interrupt. I’m just being neighborly and dropping off some mail that was delivered to my house in error. I’m Celia, by the way.” She takes my hand and gives it a limp shake before wiping it on her stretched-to-the-limit skinny jeans.

“Kimberly,” she offers with a curt smile. Her attention reverts back to Sara, making me feel a like a child who’s been dismissed. “I wanted to grab another beer for the boys.”

For the boys?

“No time for beer, babe, the movie starts in twenty.” His voice booms from the living room. While Kimberly’s face lights up with a smile, the breath is robbed from my lungs.

Cain rounds the corner into the kitchen and wraps his hand around the back of Kimberly’s neck. “You know my favorite part of the movie is the pre—”

Cain looks as horrified as I feel, but it does little to comfort me. My fingernails dig into the palm of my hand as try to erase the image in front of me. I want to wipe it away, along with the gaping hole in my gut.

Kimberly looks back and forth between Cain and me, visibly adding up the situation, and looking less than pleased with what she finds. She wraps a territorial arm around Cain’s waist and smirks.