This was crazy, I knew that.

I’d driven past three times in as many days, leaving each time because I couldn’t summon up the guts. Today, I wasn’t letting myself run away again.

It was probably a huge mistake that was about to blow up in my face, but I had to try.

I owed it to him to try.

I owed it to myself to try.

With a breath that quaked in my lungs, I raised my hand to knock on the door. The instinct to flee was so strong I had to lock my knees to keep myself still. My blood was rushing in my ears so loud I didn’t even hear the door unlatch, just saw it pulling open.

Margot’s face was blank as she looked at me.

I could only imagine what she must be thinking, what I would be thinking if someone had put Owen through what I’d done to Liam then had the gall to show up at my door. I’d imagined her slamming it in my face a hundred times since I’d first thought up this plan.

That she was still standing there meant it was already going better than I thought.

“I know I’m probably the last person you want to see. I know you probably hate me. Right now, I can’t even begin to blame you for that. But I’m here because a few months ago, before we even met, Liam told me that I could turn to you if I needed someone who understood what I was going through.”

I swallowed hard. “I still can’t let it go. I can’t stop the panic that comes creeping up when I even think of trying. For the last three years, aside from my son, that grief was all I had. Then Liam came into my life. And for the first time since I lost my husband, I didn’t have to fake being okay. With him, I just was.

“But I let that fear get the better of me, and I hurt him. And as angry as I’m sure you are at me for it, I can promise you it doesn’t run as deep as how much I hate myself for doing that. I hate that it took watching him walk away for me to realize that I need him, but that’s how it happened. I need him, and I want him back, but I won’t do it knowing I could ever cause him to hurt that way again. So, I’m here, hoping against hope that you’ll help me figure out how to move on and be the woman your son needs, too.”

I felt like panting when I finished, like unloading all of that had been as physically trying as it had been emotionally. Her expression hadn’t changed as I spoke, and it still held fast as I stood there, worried that even bearing my heart—whatever remains of it were still in one piece—wasn’t enough.

Then, it fell into a look of sympathy, and it made me feel like breaking down in tears right there.

“Come inside, honey.”

“You can’t rush this,” Margot coached me.

Was this rushing?

It had been a week and a half since I’d shown up at her door. We’d met three more times before this. Each time, she encouraged me to tell her about Joel. Everything, right from the beginning.

I’d told her about those first weeks when he’d started pursuing me, how I’d written him off entirely and didn’t regret it for a minute. If I hadn’t, I’d probably have been another in a line of chicks he’d already dated and moved on from. Instead, we became so much more.

I’d told her about the high school years, and what it was like setting off on our own at eighteen with nothing but what we’d saved up with after-school jobs and no fallback if we failed.

I’d told her about having Owen and all the joy it brought.

I’d also told her about the fights, the times the tight budget got to us and it felt like the world was against us, the fact that we’d had to learn the hard way again and again that relationships weren’t a cakewalk. It did no good to romanticize things, to forget all the times that Joel and I nearly broke. Those were all a part of the real story, and it was that one I wanted to remember.

We talked a lot about remembering.

“I went to a support group for a while after losing Heath,” Margot told me. It’d been hours since I’d shown, and she still hadn’t kicked me out. No, she was talking about how to help me. “One of the women there shared a piece of advice she’d gotten after losing her son. And that was to take fifteen minutes a day to grieve. Take that time to be alone, no distractions, and feel it all. No putting on a face for others, no keeping it bottled so it’s manageable. Let it out completely, even when it feels like too much. Each day gets just that little bit easier.”

I’d started that the next morning. Now, every day, I gave myself that time to let loose all the pain. I wasn’t sure it was hurting less yet, but it was getting easier to release the hold on it. That first day, it had taken me more than the fifteen minutes just to manage that.

Today’s task was taking even longer.

We’d been sitting here for an hour, but Margot didn’t pressure me. No, she was reassuring me that this all needed to happen at my own pace.

“I know,” I replied. “I think I’m ready, though.”

And I did, but it didn’t mean this wasn’t hurting.

Because right then I was preparing to take off Joel’s rings.

It was funny how grief could make simple things take on a life of their own. When Joel was alive, this wasn’t hard at all. I took my rings off all the time. I never wanted to wear them when I was cleaning or doing anything where I was afraid they could get damaged or lost. Joel made a point to let me know he wasn’t a fan of me leaving the house without them on, but it’d only happened a couple times by mistake anyway.

Now? I hadn’t removed them. Not once in three years. Everything I’d done, everywhere I went, they were on my finger. They’d been scratched and dulled by lack of care, but they were still beautiful. They’d need a little work to go on display in the case Margot had helped me find, but it could be done.

There was a lot of work to be done all around.

One step at a time.

Holding my breath, I clasped my engagement ring between two fingers. It took a little wiggle to get it around my knuckle, then it slid right off. I held it there, studying it. It wasn’t extravagant. Actually, by most standards, it was probably lackluster. I knew all the extra hours Joel had put in to get it, though. He’d said so many times that he wanted to replace it with something nicer as we did better, but I refused. This was the ring that he asked me to be his wife with, and that made it perfect.

My hand shook as I reached out and slid it into the velvet slot where it would live now. Still close, always there for me to see when I needed to, but not a security blanket I could hide behind anymore.

I dropped my head, clutching my eyes tight. Halfway. I was halfway through this, and I was managing.

It’s okay, Katie. Let go.

“I can hear him.”

I’d never told anyone about that. I didn’t want them to think I was losing it.

“I heard my Heath, too. I still do from time to time.”

“Really?”

“Really, sweetheart. It happened a lot in the early days. Now, it’s usually when something big happens, particularly with our kids. I heard him that first time Liam brought you home.” She smiled. “He said, ‘he’s sunk.’ He was laughing.”

Even through my tears, I smiled. Whatever those voices were, I liked the idea that Heath would be happy about me being in his son’s life.

For the first time, I also considered what it would be like to still hear things from Joel down the line. To get a reaction now and then to Owen growing up, to whatever came our way.

Don’t leave me for good, I thought.

Not a chance.

And he wouldn’t. Even if I never heard that voice again, Joel would never really leave me. He’d always be there in the memories. He’d be there in our son. He’d be right there where he imprinted himself onto my heart.

It was knowing that, being sure of it beyond any doubt, that gave me the strength to slide off my wedding ring.

I’d never get rid of them, but those rings were still just things. They weren’t Joel. They weren’t our love. Taking them off didn’t rob me of anything.

It set me free.

I put both rings into the box, closing the glass-top lid and locking the clasp into place. Both rings were clearly visible nestled inside. It did me no good to just shove them away where I would never see them. I couldn’t move on while keeping a death grip on every little piece of him, but I wouldn’t be able to do it by hiding those things away, either.

No, those rings deserved pride of place, and I would decide a spot where they could have that. I’d keep Joel present in my life, in Owen’s, but he couldn’t be the center of my world anymore—and neither could his absence.

“How do you feel?” Margot prompted.

“Raw,” I gave her the truth. It was like every nerve, the pure base of every emotion, was right at the surface.

“But not broken,” she pointed out, but I already recognized it.

Like being about to face the grief each day, I’d survived this even though it felt like too much. I still had a long road ahead of me, but I’d taken a step, an important one.

There were still more to tackle, and I would survive each one.

Hopefully, in the end, they’d lead me right to where I needed to be.