This was a day that any father dreaded.

“Cheer up, hon,” Erika said, and slipped an arm around my waist. “Everything’s going to be OK.”

“Is it?” I grumbled but kissed the top of her head. Eighteen years together and she was still my addiction. My rock.

“Don’t be like that,” Erika whispered, and squeezed me tight around the waist. “She’s so excited for this. It’s an exciting day.”

“But it’s Los Angeles,” I said.

“It’s her choice, honey.”

We walked out onto the front porch together, a quaint home in Cazenovia, and looked out over the lawn. It was green, sun-strewn, and birds chirped, twittered, and flew from tree to tree in the yard. It was the perfect day for our little girl to head off on her journey, to be what she wanted to be.

A writer. In LA. Doing screenplays. My nerves were fucking on the end of a string right now. It’d been years since I’d been a total asshole, but I still felt the urge to control this shit and shut it down before it started.

“I just don’t get why she has to go away so far. New York is a hotspot for writers.” I was stiff about it.

Hope was upstairs bidding farewell to that idiot of a friend of hers, Grant. I’d never liked the kid, simply because I knew exactly what kind of friendship he wanted with Hope.

“She wants to be independent,” Erika said, leaning her head on my shoulder, stroking my upper arm. “Just let her enjoy this day. She’ll be fine. God, Noah, I thought I was the one who was supposed to get empty-nest syndrome.”

I looked at her then, taking in the perfect wrinkles around her eyes and the forever gaze she always wore when she was around me. She dyed her hair, even though she hadn’t gone fully gray yet, and she looked damn good for a soft fifty-two. Put Cindy Crawford back in the day to shame, but more importantly, she was my Erika. My woman.

Footsteps thunked down the stairs inside, and she poked me in the ribs. “Here they come. Be nice.”

“The older I get, the less nice I become,” I replied, still grumpy, but holding it back now.

My daughter strode out onto the porch, in charge as always, with her dark hair tied up in a high ponytail and wearing shorts that were far too short for my liking. She grinned at us both, her green eyes sparkling bright, then passed that look on to the approaching goober with bag in hand.

“What’s this?” I asked, nodding to Grant, who held a duffel bag in front of him. He was a big kid, probably would’ve given me a run for my money in college, and just as handsome as I’d been. It amused me that Hope seemed totally oblivious about his feelings for her. “Are you leaving too?”

“No, sir,” he said. “Not for now, at least. Just helping Hope carry her stuff out to the car.”

“Oh? All right, do it then.” I flicked my fingers toward Hope’s VW.

“Dad,” Hope said, and sighed. “Be nice, will ya?”

“Depends on your definition of nice,” I replied, just as Erika poked me in the ribs again. Between the two women of the house, I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. They made a habit of ganging up on me, simply because they knew I always gave in. I loved them too much not to.

“I’m just gonna take this down to the car,” Grant said and winked at Hope. He bustled past and down the steps, across the lawn.

“At least, in LA you’ll have the opportunity to make some new friends,” I said loudly. Another poke from Erika, and an eye roll from Hope.

“Sheesh, so this is the goodbye I’m going to get?” she asked. “Nice.”

“Don’t mind your father. He’s just preemptively getting angry about the fact that the house is going to be empty without you around.” Erika drew Hope into a tight hug and both women sniffed back emotion. “I’m going to miss you so much, honey. I’m so proud of you. I know that you’ll make a success of yourself.”

“I gotta,” Hope said. “No option.” That was my girl. Driven in the extreme, and always prepared to face a challenge head-on. She pulled back from her mom, then stepped up in front of me. I swallowed emotion, refused to choke up.

“I’ll call you along the way,” Hope said.

I hugged her, patted her on the back, and squeezed until she squeaked. “Every hour on the hour. Understand?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Are you sure about this?” I asked, as she slipped out of my embrace. “I mean, New York City’s a pretty amazing place to be. It’s the hub of civilization. You really want to go to vegan land?”

“That is the unofficial name,” she replied, and rolled her eyes at me again. “I’m sure, Dad. One hundred percent sure. Look, I gotta get on the road. Grant’s getting a flight back from—”

“Wait a second, that goober’s going with you?” I asked, just as the kid strode back up the garden path.

“I’ll make sure she stays within the speed limit, sir,” he said.

I was helpless to stop Hope from leaving, from starting a life without her ol’ mom and dad there to support her and it sucked.

“Bye!” She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and another hug to her mother, then darted off down the steps. She patted Grant on the back as they walked, looking up at him and shaking her head. Probably telling him not to worry about the “goober” comment. She’d always cared about people, about what they thought.

Together, Erika and I watched as our only daughter climbed into the driver’s seat of her VW, started the engine, and gave us a wave, and then a thumbs-up. No doubt she was more worried about how we’d take this than we were about how she’d do out there in the big, bad world.

“Are you crying?” Erika asked, peering up at me.

“No,” I replied, and blinked. “I’m leaking. There’s a difference.”

“Is there?”

“No.” I cleared my throat and tightened my grip on my wife, tugging her close as the little car headed down the drive and my daughter took the first step into her future. “There she goes,” I muttered.

“She’s ready,” Erika replied. “She’s more ready than I was at her age.”

“At her age, you were flipping me off on porches.”

“You deserved it.” Erika pinched my ass. “You know you did.”

“I did,” I replied, then turned to her and cupped both her cheeks in my hands. “Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve you.”

She blushed, pretty in pink, and I pressed my lips to hers, gently. “You know what this means, don’t you?” I asked, after we broke apart.

“We can party all night long? Go skydiving? Have an impromptu toga party with a chocolate fondue?”

“No, but I like the way you think.” We walked back into the house together, still holding onto each other, almost as if we could prop each other up in our time of need. Almost? We did.

“Then, what can we do, Dr. Cox?” Erika asked.

I pressed my lips to her nose, then trailed them down to her neck, leaving wet, warm kisses behind. “Make as much noise as we want,” I replied.

I lifted her off the ground, and she let out a whoop of joy. We took the stairs together, we lay on the bed together, we laughed, we loved. We lived. Together.

If life was meant to have a meaning, she was it.