“I love you so much. You know that?”

I stroked my father’s head as I sat by his body.

“You are, without a shadow of a doubt, my guiding light. And I don’t want you to worry about me, okay? All I want you to do is enjoy your time with Mom. Because I know she’s been expecting you.”

I gazed upon my father’s cold, pale face. The hospital was allowing me to say goodbye in private before they took his body down to the morgue. I felt the need to cry. My nose was stuffy. My eyes hurt. There was the sensation of tears, but no actual tears. Then again, I also had no one to cry to.

I was now officially alone.

“I’m sorry I never brought anyone home for you to meet,” I whispered.

That was my one regret. My one mistake. Neither of my parents lived long enough to see me fall in love. Or get married. Or have children. They’d never know the love of a grandparent, and that struck me in my gut.

I felt the tears. But they didn’t fall.

Who would catch them if they did?

“It’s time,” the doctor said.

I stood up from my chair and pressed my lips to my father’s cheek, one last loving, tender, warm kiss to send him off with so he could be with Mom again. I sighed as I took a step back. I watched nurses gather around as they pulled out his IVs, took the oxygen mask off his face, removed him from the machines, and slipped a white sheet over his body.

I felt sick to my stomach.

I stood there in the empty room for a few seconds. I took it all in. Drew in the scent of his body wash and his cologne I sprayed him with every morning. It would be the last time I’d smell it. The last time that smell would come from him. I closed my eyes and sighed, waiting until the scent of my father dissipated.

Then, I walked out of the room.

“Ira. There you are.”

Clay’s voice hit my ears, and my eyes fluttered up. And there, in the waiting room of the hospital floor, was the entire restaurant. The waiters and waitresses and kitchen staff I’d worked with for years surrounded me. They enveloped me in a hug that reminded me of people who really did care about me. My eyes fell onto Clay’s. I saw the hurt, the pain, the sorrow, the familiarity of it all. I walked through the crowd of people, giving them hugs and kisses as I made my way for him.

Then, I stood in front of him and looked up into his eyes.

“What happened to the restaurant?” I asked.

“Mandatory rest day. I knew you’d need people with you right now. People who cared. So, here we are,” he said.

I slowly turned around and took in the teary eyes of those that filled the room.

Maybe I wasn’t so alone after all.

“Thank you guys so—”

I drew in a deep breath, forcing my tears to stay back.

“Thank you so much for being here,” I whispered.

They all charged me again, and I couldn’t hold them back any longer. As everyone gathered around me, pulling me into a massive hug, I let the tears fall. I cried. I sobbed. I buckled at my knees. I felt hands wrap around me and hug my neck, my waist, my chest. My head fell onto multiple shoulders as people cradled me, kissed me, and whispered how sorry they were in my ear. I let myself be held and comforted by a set of people that I’d grown close to without even knowing it.

One by one, they trickled out of the waiting room, leaving just Clay behind as I wiped away my tears.

“I’m so sorry, Ira,” he said.

He walked up beside me and slipped his hand into mine.

“What the hell am I supposed to do now?” I asked.

His thumb stroked my skin as I leaned my head against his arm.

“I didn’t know when it happened to me. When I lost my mother and father. But I can tell you this,” he said.

His finger crooked underneath my chin, raising my gaze to meet his.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“I know we’ll get through this together,” he said.

His hand cupped my cheek, smoothing away another tear. And when I closed my eyes, I reveled in his touch. In his encouragement. In his comfort. “We”—he said “we.” Like we were a team. A couple. An item.

A given.

And I knew in that moment I was falling for him.

I was falling in love with Clay Holmes.