Addy’s hands shook as she zipped up the black dress. It had been her mother’s, and she’d forgotten about it entirely.

Only after she’d dismissed everything in her closet as not formal enough—and everything in Kenzie’s closet as too suggestive—did she venture into her parents’ old bedroom. Shoved in the far back was the knee-length black cocktail dress with sleeves to the elbow and a square neckline trimmed in pearls.

When she’d found it, she brought the dress to her face and inhaled. Part of her thought that, somehow, it would still smell like her mom. But it smelled of nothing at all.

“Addy, can you zip me up?” Kenzie wandered into the room in a slinky black dress that barely covered her ass.

Black fishnet stockings hugged her legs.

“Is that what you—sure,” Addy corrected herself. Kenzie held up her auburn hair as Addy squeezed her sister into the dress.

“Thanks,” Kenzie said, and disappeared down the hall.

“We leave in twenty!” Addy called after her.

She looked in the mirror and gasped. Her mother stared back at her. Even with the dark circles under her eyes from the past five days of fitful sleep, she couldn’t deny it.

Actually, it made her look even more like her mother. So many of her memories involved her mother being sick, and those dark half moons below her eyes were eerily familiar.

Addy had been shocked at how quickly the hospital and the funeral director had pulled everything together. It was also so matter-of-fact and professional. Of course, that made sense. It was a business, and her father’s death was one of scores they probably handled every week.

With Kenzie by her side, they’d been herded through countless questions and options. Addy had steeled herself in preparation for avoiding the common pitfalls she’d heard about.

Funeral directors that tried to guilt grieving daughters into upgrading to a ten-thousand-dollar cherry wood coffin because “their loved one deserved it.” Addy knew she wouldn’t fall for the trap, but she had no idea how Kenzie would react.

Fortunately, the funeral director at the hospital was far from a salesperson. She simply stated the starting options and was always upfront about prices. The only issue Kenzie struggled with was the coffin.

“He’s cremated, Kenz,” Addy had said.

“So?” Kenzie had looked to the funeral director for confirmation. “Cremated people can still have coffins, can’t they?”

“You can certainly do whatever you like. Coffin or no coffin, but both are possible.”

“Kenzie, what’s the point in a coffin?”

“Mom had a coffin,” Kenzie pointed out.

“How did you—I didn’t think you remembered that.”

“You didn’t think I remembered Mom’s funeral?”

“We’ll take a coffin,” Addy had said.

“May I recommend the basic model?” the funeral director asked, keenly aware of Addy’s trepidation about the process. “It will serve the purpose just fine for the memorial service, and of course if you’d like to work with a florist they can accommodate as well.”

“Sure,” Addy said. “Let’s do that.”

“As for the remains, an option with cremation is to bury part of the remains and keep part. Is that something you’re interested in?”

She could see Kenzie looking at her from the corner of her eye.

“No… not for me at least,” Addy said. “Kenzie?”

Kenzie bit her lip and slowly shook her head. “No, he’d want to be by Mom. And it feels weird to me, separating it like that—”

“Okay,” the funeral director said.

Addy shook her head at the swiftness of the process. She opened the closet in her old bedroom to find shoes, but realized all she had were beat-up sneakers.

Shit. All my decent clothes and shoes are at Jack’s.

But she’d be damned if she was going to call him up on the day of her father’s funeral and ask if she could come by for shoes.

“Hey, Kenzie!”

“You said twenty minutes, it’s only been ten!”

“I know. Do you have some shoes I could borrow?” She could swear she heard Kenzie audibly perk up at that.

“What kind?” Kenzie asked and popped her head into the room.

“Uh, black. Formal,” Addy said.

“Well, duh. Hold on.”

She listened to Kenzie rush to her bedroom and start to bang around in the closet. Kenzie was half a size smaller than her, but she could handle pinched feet for a few hours.

“These or these?” Kenzie asked. Both were at least six inches.

“Oh, lord, Kenzie. I guess the ones without the platforms.”

Kenzie shrugged and tossed the heels onto the bed.

* * *

Her sister looped her arm through hers as they arrived at the small, Unitarian chapel at the crest of the cemetery’s hill. Immediately, virtual strangers swooped down on them to offer their condolences. Some were vaguely familiar to Addy, but most she didn’t recognize at all.

“Did Dad really know all these people?” she whispered to Kenzie.

Her sister shrugged.

“Addison, Kenzie, I’m so sorry for your loss.” An ancient woman with blue-tinted hair approached them. “My late husband and I simply adored that restaurant when it first opened. Every Sunday, we went—”

Addy listened to the woman drone on as more strangers approached them, offered stiff hugs, and dished up memories of her parents that didn’t resonate with her at all.

When the host asked if anyone would like to say any words, Addy held her breath. When nobody stood up, the host turned to her.

“Let’s just move to the service,” she said.

A staff member whisked them to the graveside in a small golf cart. The simple casket hovered above an open grave with an arrangement of white lilies draped on top.

In lieu of a religious service, Addy had asked that a poem be read. It was the same one their dad’s best man had read aloud at their parents’ vow renewal all those years ago.

She had been ten years old when they renewed their vows lakeside, and remembered how strange she thought the poem was at the time. Now, Li-Young Lee’s “Braiding” finally made sense.

Addy had held it together for the past five days. She hadn’t cried once after they’d left the hospital, paralyzed in strength for Kenzie. But as the host read the poem in his soothing voice, she felt the saltwater slip down her cheeks and pool at the corners of her mouth.

Addy let out a quiet sob. Kenzie squeezed her arm gently, and a burst of heat warmed her to the bone from her other side. She felt Jack before she saw him—he didn’t have to say anything.

The host continued reading the poem.

Jack took her hand that wasn’t intertwined with Kenzie’s. His heat, his presence, pushed her over the edge. Finally, Addy felt that she didn’t have to carry the burden alone, to be strong enough for both her and Kenzie.

She let the tears fall freely, turned to Jack and buried herself in his dark suit jacket.

* * *

Addy hadn’t even faltered when Kenzie had reached for her car keys. She pushed them into her sister’s hands and trusted she would be surrounded by throngs of people who hoisted homemade casseroles at her.

For Addy, the post-funeral feast at home wasn’t possible. She’d given up all she could.

Her father was gone. What did it matter if she made small talk between bites of egg salad sandwiches?

Jack drove them back to the condo in silence. His hand rested on her thigh, loving without the raw sexuality that had bound them together for the past few weeks.

When she walked inside his condo, it felt right. It felt like coming home. And that was what made it so hard.

“We can’t be together,” she said as he came up from behind and wrapped his arms around her.

“I think it’s best to not make any serious plans one way or the other at the moment,” Jack murmured in her ear.

“I’m serious, Jack,” she turned around. “It’s got nothing to do with… today.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s us! You, you’re a world traveler. An adventure junkie. And I’m so not.”

“So what?” he asked. “If I wanted to date myself—”

“So I can’t hold you back from that. I won’t.”

“Addy.” He took her chin in his hand and tipped her head up. She’d kicked off Kenzie’s insane heels as soon as she walked through the door. Barefoot, she felt tiny and safe in his arms. “You’re a world traveler, too.”

“Jack, be serious—”

“You are. You just don’t know it yet.”

“I can’t—”

“You can. I asked you once what was keeping you here, remember? It was the restaurant, your dad, Kenzie. If it’s the restaurant you were worried about, guess what? You don’t owe anything to anyone. Sell it, give it to Kenzie if she wants it, it’s not your responsibility anymore.”

“And neither is my dad,” she said bluntly.

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you were thinking it.”

“So what if I was? It’s true. And Kenzie’s a big girl. She’ll figure it out. She needs to stumble without you there to catch her if she’s going to grow up.”

“Yeah,” Addy said slowly. “I know.”

“If you know, then say yes.”

“Yes to what?” she asked. Addy probed his eyes with hers.

“To the future.”

“I don’t know. You’re not just an adrenaline junkie. You’re hardcore, beyond anything I’ve seen before. The money doesn’t help,” she said pointedly.

“Okay, you got me there. If this adventure stuff really bothers you, I’ll try to tone it down. I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try. And that’s something, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” she said, tearing up. “That’s something.”

“Come here,” he said, wrapping her in his arms. “I love you. You do know that, don’t you?”

“And I love you. I really, honestly do,” she sighed. “Even today, when I’m overwhelmed with grief. Even when you make me mad.”

“I’ll repeat myself, then. Just say yes. That’s all you have to do.”

He stared down at her, his eyes shining with sincerity. She looked up at him for a long moment, then nodded.

“Yes.”

And that was all she had to say. He pressed his lips to hers, and she kissed him back.

Tomorrow, or the next day, they would strip each other down and do unspeakable things. But today she was content to have said the words, just to let him hold her. Today, it was enough.