Chapter 39
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
HAYDEN
The church parking lot is already half full when I pull in.
Black sedans. Polished SUVs. People dressed in subdued colors moving slowly across the pavement.
The brick building looms in front of me, its white steeple cutting into a picturesque blue sky.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I retrieve it, finding a message from Rowan.
It’s a photo. Presley is mid-laugh, a smear of chocolate ice cream on her upper lip. Jemmy’s entire fist is buried in a bowl of whipped cream. Rowan’s arm stretches into frame, holding her own ridiculous sundae stacked with gummy bears and sprinkles.
Rowan:
Ice cream for breakfast = Yes Day win!
I trace my eyes over the photo, my heart squeezing at how happy Presley is.
This morning she wouldn’t even look at me. Wouldn’t put her shoes on. Slammed her door hard enough to rattle the house.
And now she looks…light.
Alive.
I glance back at the church, and my jaw tightens.
For the past year, I’ve told myself that showing up to these memorials is how I honor Cora.
How I prove she still matters.
But sitting here, staring at a picture of my daughter covered in ice cream at nine in the morning, I realize something I’ve ignored.
I’ve been honoring the dead at the expense of the living.
By clinging to what I lost, I’ve been missing what’s right in front of me.
Missing mornings like this.
Missing the chance to make new, happier memories with my family.
Before I allow the guilt and regret to overwhelm me yet again, I throw the car into reverse and leave the past in my rearview mirror.
Where it belongs.
The bell above the diner door jingles when I step inside, and I’m immediately surrounded by the aroma of coffee, bacon, and maple syrup. On a Sunday morning, the place is buzzing with people, but it doesn’t take me long to find who I’m looking for.
Presley is still eating her ice cream, although it looks like she’s slowing down. Jemmy’s singing a song about dinosaurs while Rowan attempts to clean the whipped cream off his hands, but she doesn’t seem aggravated or frustrated by the mess. She sings along with him, a bright smile on her face.
I don’t approach right away.
I just watch them, wanting to freeze this moment.
Presley hasn’t looked this carefree in months. Maybe longer. For the first time since the accident, she truly looks happy.
And Rowan…
God.
She looks like she belongs with them.
With me.
Like she’s a part of this family.
A part of our life.
Jemmy giggles as Rowan continues trying to clean him, his eyes finding mine.
“Dada,” he says excitedly, clapping his hands.
“I know, buddy,” Rowan replies, wiping at his face. “He’s sad he can’t be here. But he’s going to try to join us later on. Okay?”
“No.” Jemmy shakes his head fiercely, pointing a chubby finger at me. “Dada.”
Rowan and Presley both turn.
The moment Rowan sees me, her entire body stills, her mouth parting slightly.
I’ve never seen her speechless.
Until now.
I walk toward the booth, my shoes echoing softly against the tile.
She blinks, like she’s trying to process whether I’m real. “What are you doing here?”
“I couldn’t let you three have all the fun without me.”
“So you’re not going to the…thing today?”
There’s something vulnerable in her question. Like she’s bracing for disappointment. For me to tell her I’m just stopping by.
I shake my head and smile. “I’m exactly where I need to be.” I hold her gaze, allowing her to see the truth in my words.
Then Presley jumps to her feet and wraps her arms around my waist, ice cream and all.
I don’t even care. I pull her close, breathing in sugar and strawberry shampoo and the moment I almost missed.
My past will always be part of me.
Cora will always be part of me.
But this — sticky fingers, loud laughter, ice cream before ten in the morning — this is my life now.
And I’m done watching it from a church pew.