Dakota took Bronte across the room to meet Sam’s sisters, Vanessa and Venetia, giving me an opportunity to visit the restroom and regroup. I paused at the sink to splash water on my face. Bronte’s comments about Freya had put the relationship with my sister-in-law into a different light.

Things had always been complicated between Freya and me. Maybe it was abnormal for her to be so involved in my life, but she’d integrated herself into the fabric of my day until I no longer noticed her intrusion. After Amy passed away, I’d been in a fog and grateful for her help. She’d managed the funeral arrangements and guided me through the intricacies of closing the estate, when I really wanted to avoid reality. After the funeral, she’d visited a few times a week to cook or clean. Once things had settled down, she continued to drop by. Although I no longer needed her assistance, I didn’t want to hurt her feelings after she’d been so nice.

When I opened the bathroom door, Freya hovered in the corridor. The corners of her mouth turned down.

“Something on your mind?” I asked.

“I can’t believe you brought the donut girl to this party.”

“Why? She’s sweet. I like her.” Freya’s negative tone put me on the defensive.

“Really, Rhett?” Her eyebrows arched. “She’s a little bizarre, don’t you think?”

“I’d call her quirky,” I said, intending to brush past her.

“It’s disrespectful. I mean, Amy hasn’t been gone all that long. Have you forgotten her already?” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the wall, waiting for my answer.

I stopped, drawing a long breath before turning around. Her words hit the tender spot where Amy still lurked. I already had enough guilt over my wife’s death to last a lifetime; I didn’t need Freya adding to the mix. “I’ll never forget Amy. And this isn’t a date. Bronte’s a friend. I don’t think Amy would have a problem with me trying to live my life.”

“Are you going to see her again?”

“I don’t know. Sure. Maybe.” I had no idea where my relationship with Bronte was going, and I didn’t like being questioned about it. My temper began to simmer. “What do you care?”

Freya studied me with eyes just like Amy’s. The similarity sent an ominous shiver down my back. It was like looking at a ghost. “I don’t think Amy would approve. I mean, what would she think about this girl? Or the way you’ve replaced her so soon? It’s an insult to her memory.”

“Why are you acting like this?” My self-control snapped. I slapped a hand against the wall above Freya’s shoulder and leaned in close. “Look, you can say whatever you want about me, but I don’t want to hear one word about Bronte. Not one word, do you understand? She’s a great person.” Freya’s eyes widened. “As for Amy’s opinion, she doesn’t have one. She’s dead, Freya. I can’t live my life trying to please her, because she’s not here, and she’s never coming back.”

I’d been holding back a shitload of emotions for the past two years. I was angry at Amy for betraying me before the accident. I was furious with her for dying, for leaving me to face life without her, even though I knew dying wasn’t her fault. And I felt guilty for playing a part in the events that had led to her death. We’d had an argument before she’d stepped in front of that bus. I’d said things I hadn’t meant. Now, I’d never get the chance to retract those hurtful words, and things would forever remain unresolved between us.

A tear slid down the slope of Freya’s cheek. Her jaw dropped, and her lips began to quiver. “I can’t believe you’d say something like that.”

Guilt rushed over me. Freya sprinted down the hall, leaving a trail of tears and sobs in her wake. I straightened and passed a hand over my eyes. When had I become such an asshole? None of this was her fault.

I found Freya in the study. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You—you—you hurt my feelings,” she said between sobs.

“I know. But you hurt my feelings, too.”

“I’m scared, Rhett. I miss her so much. And every day, her memory gets a little more faded.” She turned a tear-stained face toward me, looking so much like Amy that it stole my breath.

“I know. Me too.” My heart broke again for the thousandth time since Amy’s death. I pulled Freya into my embrace. She wrapped her arms around my waist. I stroked her hair and let her cry on my shoulder until her sobs stopped.

“I’m sorry,” she said, pulling back to look at me. “I know you miss her. I just don’t want to ever forget her, and I feel her slipping away. Now, you’re slipping away too.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

I’d started out the evening feeling optimistic for the first time in a long time. Being with Bronte was easy. She didn’t judge or ask questions or remind me of how fucked up my life had become. Freya reminded me of who I was and of the debt I owed her and her family. I’d been a fool to think I could ever move on.