So please remember that I love you and I’m doing everything I can to come back to you.

  Until then, know that I’m here, and I’m always yours.

  How You Get the Girl:

  It Wasn’t Her. It Was Definitely Me. And I’m Working on It. I Promise.

  Maybe this admission isn’t the most romantic, but not everything in a relationship is, I suppose. The first night I met *Calliope*, she asked me about kids. For those who have been with us since the beginning, you probably remember it was her first attempt at pushing me away.

  It backfired tremendously, because it stopped me in my tracks. For so long I thought that part of my life had passed me by. I’m older, as she’ll happily tell you with a teasing smile.

  God, I miss your smiles, baby girl.

  Because I haven’t been in a long-term relationship in my adult life, I’d never considered that I might not be able to have children. Never worried. In fact, I think most men just assume we can knock a woman up anytime we want.

  But my brilliant sister recently pointed out that might not be the case. And since I want that—I want it with you so bad my chest aches, baby girl—I went to the doctor to make sure that’s a possibility for us.

  So here’s a friendly reminder in case you have a man in your life who doesn’t have an awesome sister like me: tell your man to make an effort when it comes to family planning. It’s not just on you. If a man loves you, he’ll be thrilled to do this for you. Or not exactly thrilled, but he’ll go.

  I’d go anywhere for you, baby girl. Do anything to be with you again.

  Until then, know that I’m here, and I’m always yours.

  How You Get the Girl:

  It Wasn’t Her. It Was Definitely Me. And I’m Working on It. I Promise.

  Today, my therapist asked me to make a list of five things I’m grateful for. I’ll admit that I was in a lousy mood. I don’t know how to do this anymore. With each day that passes, it feels less likely that I’ll get her back. Her smell no longer lingers in the house and I’m beginning to forget the sound of her laugh. It’s been months. I still have work to do. I’m not who I need to be for her yet. And today I was drowning in that.

  So here are my five good things:

  1. That I know what true happiness is because I met her.

  2. That my sister is finally back on the East Coast and we celebrated the opening of her practice here in Boston.

  3. That my mother is finally settled here as well, and we’ve had quite a few good days.

  4. That my team is heading into the finals.

  5. I have some of the best friends a guy could ask for, who show up weekly to make sure I still know how to laugh.

  My therapist was right. After the exercise, I realized I have a lot to be grateful for. So I suggest making your own lists. It helps even in some of the darkest moments to remember what you do have.

  And baby girl, you still have me. I miss you like crazy. And I’m doing everything I can to come back to you.

  Until then, know that I’m here, and I’m always yours.

  FIFTY-TWO

  SAVANNAH

  I glance down at the address on my phone’s screen and then back up at the building, my stomach in knots.

  What am I doing here? This is a terrible idea. It’s been two months, and I haven’t picked up the phone, let alone showed up at his home. Still, even though we haven’t said a word to one another in that time, I feel like he talks to me weekly.

  Because of the columns.

  So often, I’m tempted to reply in the comments, or maybe through a Calliope column, but I’ve never worked up the courage.

  Still, Camden keeps writing. At least once a week, often more frequently. According to the columns, he’s been in therapy for seven weeks, and he’s been to a doctor to check on the viability of his swimmers. That alone is mind-boggling. And because of the columns, I know that his mother and sister have moved to Boston, and that his sister has opened a practice here.

  Cora Snow, LPC.

  There’s her name. On the sign beside the door.

  I blow out a breath, nerves skittering through me. Am I really doing this?

  Camden isn’t the only one who’s been working through past trauma. After reading his first column, I cried for hours. I wanted to run back to him. I wanted to forgive him and tell him he was already good enough for me and always has been.

  But I knew, deep down, that neither of us was truly ready. And if we didn’t do the work separately, we’d end up here again. And I can’t lose him a second time. Once was hard enough.

  But the truth is, I’ve barely scratched the surface in therapy. I’m not sure how I’ll ever unpack the hurts that come with having two parents who truly never wanted me.

  The best I’ve come up with is that it’s not something I can understand. I definitely can’t control their feelings or behavior. And I’m not sure if I’ll ever get over the trauma they’ve caused.

  But what I do understand and what I know I can control is how I allow it to affect my other relationships. I can’t assume that because my parents don’t care about me, no one else does either. I can’t put what my parents did on other people. It’s unfair. Especially when I have people like Rosalie and Josie and the Donovans, who show up every day to let me know they care. When I have friends like Addie, who texts me no matter where she is during her last hockey season to let me know she loves me. Or Sutton, who will randomly show up after rehearsal with snacks and tell me it’s a rom-com night.

  They’ve proven to me that I deserve to be happy.

  And I’ve realized I can be happy on my own. I don’t need Camden for that. But I really want him. Though I’m not sure we can ever truly move past who I am, who my parents are, to his family.

  Which is why I’m here.

  Camden’s relationship with his sister is incredibly important to him. As it should be. And I can’t stop thinking about the haunted look in his eye when he told me what my parents put Cora through. While they’d never apologize for what they did, I feel like I should.

  So though I lack the courage to walk in there confidently, I force myself inside anyway.

  Josie called and scheduled an appointment for me under a fake name. I’m an asshole for being deceitful, yes, but I was worried that if she knew I was the one coming in, she’d refuse to see me, and I didn’t want to come by unannounced and disrupt her time with other clients.

  Inside, when I realize that there is no receptionist or waiting room, I stop in my tracks. It’s a tiny vestibule, nothing more, and on the second door is a sign directing patients to knock when they arrive.

  Before I can back out, I rap my knuckles against the solid wood door, and when it swings open a moment later, I try my damndest not to squeeze my eyes shut and run.

  “Hi, come on in—” Cora’s words die, and her eyes widen in shock. “Savannah?”

  Oh goody, she recognizes me. I’m not sure if that makes this easier or harder.

  Knees wobbling, I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Yes, hi. I’m not sure this was a good idea.” I hitch a thumb over my shoulder. “I’ll just go.”

  “No, wait,” she says, reaching for me but dropping her hand before making contact. “I’m meeting with a client, but if you give me your information, I can call you after.”

  Heart in my throat, I wince. “I’m actually the client.”

  She frowns. “You are?”

  “Yeah, I made it under another name because I was afraid you wouldn’t want to see me. But I really wanted to talk to you.”

  She studies me for a moment, her blue eyes full of curiosity. It’s odd, how familiar the look is. It’s like Camden is standing in front of me, studying me. The two of them share so many features. Same eyes, same cheekbones, same lips.

  Hers turn up into a friendly smile after a heartbeat. “Come in. We can chat in here.”

  On one side of the office is a tidy desk, but on the other side are two cozy-looking chairs with a small table between them.

  “Take a seat,” she says. “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Water?”

  I shake my head. “I’m okay, thank you.”

  With a nod, she settles in the opposite chair and laces her fingers in her lap, her expression far more relaxed than I expected.

  I was so eager to speak to her, but now that I’m here, my thoughts are jumbled, the things I need to say twisted with the words I’m trying to hold back.

  More than anything I want to ask how Camden is. Does he really miss me? Has he gone out with anyone else? Will you ever be able to look at me and not think of my mother?

  I twist my hands together, sweat breaking out at the back of my neck. “I want to apologize for”—my chest tightens painfully—“well, my existence, I guess. I never would have come to Camden’s party had I known who he was.”

  Brows knitted, she tilts her head.

  “It’s just—that’s something my mother would do. In fact, she considered trying something similar when she found out Camden lived here.” I suck in a shaky breath. “But I’d never do that. He talked to me first…I had no idea who he was. I swear it.”

  Cora nods. “I believe you.”

  “Okay, good.” I glance at the door, my heart thumping in my ears. “I don’t want to take up any more of your time. I just⁠—”

  “Savannah, relax. I apparently don’t have a client,” she says with a smile. “So I have the hour to spare. There’s no rush.”

  “I feel like an idiot,” I admit, the words rushing out of me. “You must hate me. First, because, well, I’m me and I totally caused your life to spiral.” I slap a hand over my mouth and shake my head. “Not that I think your life is bad or anything.”

  “Savannah,” she laughs. Then, with a sincere smile, she adds, “Seriously, I’m not offended. You can truly say anything, and I won’t be upset. I learned a long time ago that I can’t control what other people think, so I try not to let it affect me. And in your case, I assure you, I don’t hate you.”

  “But how could you not? It’s because of me that⁠—”

  “No. It’s because of Jeremy and Tara. You did not cause them to do anything. In fact, Cam and I hold more responsibility than you do. We were there. We were involved with them. We should have seen who they really were. We were close friends. Your mother was always selfish. I knew it back then.” She shrugs. “Even if the betrayal was a shock. We were teenagers. We all made bad decisions. You are not responsible for any of it.” She gives me a pointed look, the blue of her irises piercing. “And you are not a mistake. You were a child who was dealt a really shitty hand. I’m so sorry that they never got their crap together for you.”

  Disbelief washes over me. “You do not owe me an apology.”

  “Just like you don’t owe me one. But I’ll accept yours. And I hope you accept mine.”

  She’s right. An innocent child is not to blame for the sins of her parents. Even so, I still feel guilty. I’m disgusted by what my parents did to her and Camden. And I’m not sure how to reconcile that with my other feelings for her brother.

  “How is he?” The moment the words leave my lips, I want to pull them back in. That’s not why I came, and I don’t want her to think I’m digging.

  She smiles. “He’s okay. Therapy is really tough after the things we’ve been through. So it’s a journey, and we’ll always have scars. Therapy isn’t about being cured of our demons. We put in the work so we can learn how to handle them. Because let’s be honest, the demons will always be there.”

  I nod. I’ve discovered that myself.

  “But he misses you,” she adds.

  The constant ache in my chest intensifies. As much as I wanted to hear that, needed to, even, this conversation has dug up the very real problems that I’m not sure we can ever get past. Because our demons will never go away completely. He’s better off finding a woman who isn’t a permanent reminder of all he lost.

  “He does,” she urges, like she can see the war raging in my head. “But it’s okay if the situation is too much to move past. He’s accepted that it might be.”

  My stomach flips at her words. So he realizes it too.

  “Have you talked to anyone?” she asks gently.

  I nod. “I’m seeing a therapist, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Good.” She nods once. “I truly hope that you find healing and happiness, even if that’s without my brother. And Camden feels the same.”

  My nose stings with tears that have been nearly impossible to hold back lately. So I force a smile and stand. “I appreciate that. And I appreciate your willingness to talk to me. I’m glad you moved back. And I’m glad your mother is doing well.”

  She stands and tilts her head in a type of shrug. “She is, I suppose. I’m not sure things will improve on that front, but I’m glad that she’s here too. This way I can be here for Camden while still taking care of her.”

  I swallow. “Thank you for talking to me. And thank you for supporting Camden.”

  Before the tears can fall, I turn and head for the door.

  Just as I reach for the knob, she calls my name, stopping me.

  I spin around. “Yeah?”

  “For the record, I’ve never seen my brother happier than when he was with you. So I’m rooting for you both.”

  My heart lifts in a way it hasn’t in months. “Really?”

  She steps in close. “Yes.”

  “But…” I shake my head, searching for the right words. But again, my thoughts are jumbled, so when I speak, there’s no eloquence to the questions I’m dying to ask. “Could you really handle seeing your brother with someone whose existence caused you so much pain? Wouldn’t seeing me all the time be a problem? Because I can’t go back to him if it means he’ll lose you.” I lift my chin. “I won’t.”

  Cora squeezes my arm. “I’m a big girl, and you’re right on one front. Those are issues that I will have to work through. But with or without you, those demons exist. I have the skills to work through them, and when I don’t, I have people to turn to so that I don’t ever fall back into the destructive behaviors that exacerbated so many of my problems. It’s not a person’s trauma but how they react to it that does the most damage. And I’m not interested in doing more damage to myself or anyone else.”

  I nod, though I’m not completely convinced.

  “But Savannah?”

  I inhale, steadying myself.

  “I’d be thrilled to see my brother happy. So if you are what brings him joy, then I assure you, seeing you will never be painful.”

  As tears well in my eyes, I take a single step closer. “Can I hug you?”

  Cora holds out her arms and we embrace. And for a moment, I allow myself to hope.

  FIFTY-THREE

  SAVANNAH

  How You Get the Girl:

  It Wasn’t Her. It Was Definitely Me. But I Lost Her Anyway.

  I really didn’t want to write this article. It’d be easier just to stop. To mourn this loss on my own, without so many strangers out there witnessing my failure. But that seems unfair. And it’s also not completely true.

  Because while I have come to the conclusion that the thing that tore us apart might be too big to overcome, I know that the work I put in to heal was worth it for me. Now I can look at my reflection and not hate what I find. Now I know that I’m not to blame for all the tragedy that’s befallen my family. And now my family is here, in the same city. So I’m not alone. And honestly, I never was.

  This may not be the happy ending you were all hoping for—nor was it what I hoped for—but it is still a happy ending.

  I think maybe some people come into our lives for a short time but still make an impact that will forever affect us. And that’s what you were for me, baby girl. You changed me. You helped me see that there’s more to life than how I was living. You pushed me to be a better man, and for that, I’ll always be grateful.

  Above all, you taught me what true love is.

  So while this may be goodbye, it’s also a thank-you. You are the love of my life, and it was the privilege of my lifetime to love you. I only want you to be happy. And I want you to know that if you ever need support, I’m here. No questions asked, no expectations needed.

  But as for everything else, I’m letting you go.

  As Josie bounces up to my side, I quickly click out of the article. “It’s freaking freezing in here.”

  “It is an ice rink,” I grumble. My mood has tanked over the last couple of days. I’ve probably read Camden’s column a dozen times, and no matter what I do, the words don’t change. The outcome remains the same. It’s over. Officially.

  And tonight isn’t about me. This is Addie’s last PWHL game.

  “I know I should be used to it,” she says. “But I don’t think it’s possible. I’m always freezing. I think it’s because of all the meds they pumped into me as a kid.”

  I wrap an arm around her and squeeze her tight. “Well, then let’s get you out of here and into the warm bar.”

  She grins as I release her. “Now that sounds like a plan. I’m sure Beckett went all out for the party, so I’m getting top-shelf booze.”

  A hint of joy weaves through the full-body ache I’ve had for days. The Langfields are throwing a surprise retirement celebration for Addie at Ground Zero, and we’ve all been sworn to secrecy. Addie thinks they’re going to dinner, just the family, afterward. She should know better. Her dad would never allow such a low-key celebration. Josie and I even packed a sexy black dress in case Addie shows up in jeans and a T-shirt, thinking it really is just family dinner.

  “Sutton already leave?” I ask, looking around for our friend.

  Josie nods. “She’s riding over to the party with Royal.”

  Affection blooms in my chest. Sutton is still seeing the guy she met at Camden’s party in December, and she’s yet to tell him she loves him. After five months, he still follows her around like he’s an adorable little puppy. She’s taking things slow, wanting to see what will happen after hockey season and the two of them spend some real time together. Josie and I have already decided that there’s no way they won’t spend the entire summer together in Monhegan, and we’re taking bets on whether they’ll be engaged when September rolls around.