“Well, well, well.” Roger leans against the building outside the bakery, staring at me as I climb out of my car. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

“Don’t say it.” I stalk past him and barely make eye contact.

“Tilly, I’m not judging you.”

He doesn’t need to say the words. I know Roger would never judge me, especially after everything he’s been through with me the last five years.

My hands are shaking, and putting the key in the lock of the shop’s front door is virtually impossible. “Stupid door,” I groan.

“Gimme.” Roger takes the keys from my hand, easily unlocking the shop. “You’re out of sorts today.”

“Just today?” I snort. “I’ve been out of sorts for years.”

There’s no normal after loss. Last night was the first time I felt anything even remotely like the old me. But this morning, when I woke up on Angelo’s couch with Tate staring at us, all my newfound normalcy flew right out the window.

Roger follows me into the shop and shrugs off his jacket, throwing it on a banquette chair near the doorway. “That’s not true. You’ve been doing well for a long time. This last week, I saw a glimpse of the old Tilly.”

I spin around on my heels and tap my foot against the marble tile. “And who is the old Tilly?”

He rubs his hands together and tilts his head, probably trying to figure out if I’m about to lose my shit entirely. “The old Tilly is playful and fun. Her smile is infectious and flirtatious.” He takes a few steps forward, easily closing the space between us, and grabs my shoulders. “She’s happy.”

I sigh. “I feel more like myself than I have in years, even today, but…”

“What happened last night? Was he an asshole?” He narrows his eyes, trying to read more into my statement than what I actually said. “Because I’ll kick his ass.”

I can’t stop myself from laughing. Although Roger’s built, I don’t think he’s thrown a punch in ten years, which I’m sure hasn’t been the case for Angelo. “You aren’t going to hurt Angelo.”

“I will if he hurt you.”

I wrap my arms around Roger’s middle and rest my head on his chest. “Angelo was a perfect gentleman last night, Roger. Don’t be overdramatic.”

He places his hands on my back, holding me tightly like he’s done so many other days. “Then what’s wrong?”

“We kissed,” I whisper into his dress shirt. “A lot.”

“That’s great, Til,” he says sweetly. “That’s a big step for you.”

“Can I be honest?”

He moves his head backward and glances down at me. “Always, doll.”

“When we were kissing, everything was great. But afterward, when I woke up this morning, I felt like I was cheating on Mitchell.”

Roger moves one hand off my back and brings his fingers to my chin, forcing me to look at him. “You can’t think that way.”

“I do, though.”

He has both hands on my face now. “Hey,” he whispers when I try to look everywhere else except his eyes. “Look at me.”

For a moment, I keep my gaze trained on the cupcake case because this isn’t a conversation I am ready to have with Roger. He’s been trying to get me to find my happiness for years, but even talking with him about last night seems like a betrayal.

“I’m proud of you,” he says softly as soon as I finally look at him.

“For what? Kissing a man?”

“For taking that step. It’s a big one.”

I fist the sides of his dress shirt, tethering myself to him. “Will I ever get past the point of feeling like I’m cheating on your brother?”

Roger sighs. “There’s no one in the world who loved my brother as much as you, Tilly, besides me. Sometimes even I feel guilty.”

My eyes widen. “For what?”

“For everything.”

“That’s silly.”

“No. It’s not.” I can see the pain in his eyes. “Mitchell isn’t here, standing with you today with his arms wrapped around you. I’m here in his place instead. There are moments where I’m happy, flying high on life, and then it all comes crashing down around me when I realize my brother won’t experience that type of joy again.”

Tears form in my eyes. Sometimes, I forget I’m not alone in my grief. Moments like this, when we’re being raw and honest, remind me Roger’s lost just as much.

“Don’t cry.” He swipes his thumbs over the top of my cheeks, wiping away my tears. “We’ve cried enough.”

I don’t think I’ll ever cry enough tears for Mitchell. There were so many days when I thought I didn’t have another tear to shed, only to end up bawling my eyes out because of a song on the radio or a memory of something sweet from the past.

“Now tell me what happened. Maybe I can help you figure out what’s really causing you so much pain.”

I swallow hard before taking a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. “When we woke up this morning, Tate was staring at us.”

Roger’s eyes widen. “Oh shit.”

“We were dressed. We fell asleep on the couch, but still. I felt so shitty that she found me there.”

“Was she upset?”

I shake my head. “She made me help her get dressed and do her hair, and she insisted I stay for breakfast.”

Roger smiles sweetly. “It sounds like Tate’s quite taken with you.”

“But…”

Roger raises an eyebrow. “Tilly, Tate’s been through more trauma than finding a fully dressed woman sleeping on her father’s couch.”

I know he’s right. The kid’s been through more in her first seven years than I did in my first twenty. But that doesn’t make it easier for me to swallow or for any of it to feel right.

“She shouldn’t have found me there.”

“How did you sleep?”

“The best sleep I’ve had in years.”

I haven’t slept well since the day the men showed up on my doorstep, telling me the news of Mitchell’s death. But last night was the first night I slept peacefully.

“I’m sure Angelo’s feeling a lot of what you are today, sweetheart. You should talk to him about it.”

“I will,” I promise him. “You aren’t mad at me?”

He looks at me funny. “For what?”

“Kissing Angelo and staying over at his place.”

“Tilly, there’s nothing you can do to make me mad. If you’re alone forever because you can’t move on, I’ll be pissed. But you can never make me upset by finding your happiness.”

The bell above the front door rings. “Tilly,” Tate says from behind me.

I turn, moving out of Roger’s arms. “Tate, baby. What are you doing here?”

She’s eyeing Roger, probably wondering who the man is who’s touching me. “Who’s that man?”

I walk toward Tate and crouch down so we’re eye-to-eye. “This is Roger. He’s my brother.”

There’s no other way to describe him, especially to a seven-year-old. Roger’s the only family I have. Even though we’re not related by blood, he’s mine forever. No two people could go through what we endured and not have an eternal and lasting bond.

“You have a brother like me?” she whispers.

I nod.

Tate steps around me and cranes her neck upward to look at Roger as he approaches. “I’m Tate,” she tells him.

Roger laughs. “I’m Roger.”

“You’re lucky.”

“For what?” Roger asks Tate.

She motions for him to bend down, and he does. “Because you have a sister like Tilly,” Tate whispers. “And she makes the best cupcakes in the world.”

Roger laughs again. It’s hard not to with a kid like Tate. “I like this kid.”

“She’s a hungry little thing.” Vinnie pats her on the shoulder. “Just like her uncle. I’m sorry we barged in here like that.”

I wave him off. “It’s fine, Vinnie. You’re always welcome.” I turn toward Tate, who’s moved her attention toward the display case. “Tate too.”

Vinnie rubs the back of his neck. “Tate insisted we come get her daily cupcake.”

“Kid forgets nothing,” I say with a laugh.

“Not when it comes to food.”

“Why don’t you help her pick something out and whatever you’d like too.”

Vinnie’s eyes light up. “Are you sure? I’m happy to pay.”

I shake my head. “I insist.”

Vinnie nods before joining Tate by the display case. I watch them as they stand hand in hand, staring at all the cupcakes.

“He’s a hot one.” Roger leans over and whispers in my ear.

“He’s like twenty years old.”

“They must be descendants of Roman gods. I mean, look at that.” He motions toward Vinnie’s ass as he bends over to talk to Tate.

I smack his chest with the back of my hand. “You need help.”

He shrugs. “I’m going to take out the trash for you, and then I have to run.”

“Where are you going so early?”

“I have a meeting at noon with a new client.”

“Call me later?” I ask.

He leans forward and kisses my cheek. “You’ll be the first to hear how it went. Now go get the kid a cupcake before she slobbers all over the glass.”

I smack him again. For all the love Roger has to give, he’s not much of a kid person. His apartment and clothes are immaculate, and there’s no place for a messy kid in his life. He’d be a great father if he’d let go of some of his obsessive cleaning disorder.

“So.” I walk toward Vinnie and Tate as Roger disappears into the back room. “What looks good?”

“Everything,” Tate whispers with wide eyes.

“These are really something, Tilly.” Vinnie looks up at me over the case. “I can see why she insisted we come here.”

“I like seeing her so happy.”

Kids are resilient. With everything she’s been through, she deserves to have a smile on her face always. A cupcake is the least I can do to make that happen.

“You seem to have that effect on a lot of people in our family,” Vinnie says, knocking the wind out of me.

“What’s that one called?” Tate points to the cupcake covered in chocolate frosting and bits of dried banana.

“That’s the Funky Monkey.”

Tate erupts in laughter.

“You want one?”

“Yes!”

“Make it two,” Vinnie says. “We’ll take them back next door because we’ve taken up enough of your time.”

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you want.”

Sometimes the quiet in the shop is almost too much for me to bear. I can’t wait for the day I officially open the doors and there’re people bursting at the seams, allowing me to focus less on who’s missing and more on what’s ahead.

“Thanks, Tilly,” Tate says as I hand her a box with two Funky Monkeys. “You’re the best.”

She’s buttering me up, and I’m swallowing it hook, line, and sinker. Tate’s charming, just like the rest of her family. She’s someone I have quickly found myself pulled toward, and I could easily love her as my own.

“Stop over for a drink or some food later,” Vinnie says. “I’m sure my brother would like to see you.”

I nod my head, but I’m not sure about being in Angelo’s presence at this moment. I could fall hard for that man, but am I ready to take that step?

“See you later, Tilly.” Tate holds her box like it contains a treasure.

I wave, not moving otherwise as I watch them walk out the front door and head next door to the bar. Angelo’s entire family is something I’ve always dreamed about. Growing up as an only child was lonely and sometimes smothering because my parents focused their attention only on me. I wonder what it would’ve been like to grow up with so many brothers and never have that feeling of being truly alone.

“Roger,” I call out when I hear the back door slam shut. I figured he’d come back out front and say goodbye, but he disappeared without another word.

When I walk into the kitchen, I see an envelope propped up next to my mixer with my name written in Mitchell’s handwriting. I run, snatching up the paper as quickly as possible, and drag my fingers across the script.

When I turn it over, there’s a Post-it from Roger.

Don’t open until later. Love, Roger xoxo