He had to drag his eyes off the envelopes. “Um, that’s great. Good for you, Sarah. About the workshop.”

She smiled. “Thanks. See you next week, okay?”

“Okay,” he said. “Thank you for doing this, by the way. Bringing these to me.”

A wave of grief rippled across her face. “Anything for her,” she said, her voice growing husky.

He hadn’t been much of a friend to Sarah since Lauren died. But she’d been there for him a hundred percent, and for Lauren, too. If he did see her next week, he’d try to remember to ask about the conference, her presentation. He’d try to be a better friend.

He leaned in for an awkward hug, bumping his chin against her cheek. She smelled nice. Clean and . . . outdoorsy. Not like Lauren, but still nice. He didn’t like a lot of perfumes or scented soaps, aside from his wife’s. But Sarah smelled . . . pretty. “Take care. Have a good trip.”

“Thanks,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. Then she turned and went down the stairs.

She was good-looking. He’d never really recognized that before, but she was, and it was . . . it was oddly nice to notice. Blond and tall where Lauren had been a redhead and smaller. Attractive, when Lauren had been stunning. To him, anyway. The most beautiful woman in any room, anywhere, anytime.

Time to read what she had to say.

The past two months had taught him to savor this, because as many times as he might reread the letter, the first time was always the best. He would do it right this time.

First, he took Pebbles out for an easy walk. He came back inside, fed the dog her supper and got himself a glass of water.

Then, because the drizzle had cleared and it had become one of those perfect May evenings, he took the letter up to the rooftop garden, avoiding the edge. A seagull was perched on the post, staring into the distance. The spatters of white on the deck said it was a favorite hangout. “Get out of here,” Josh said. “Shoo.”

The bird didn’t even glance at him.

“Seagull. Beat it.” Pebbles cocked her head, amused. “Do something, Pebs,” he said. She wagged her tail and seemed to smile at the bird.

Fine. Josh wasn’t about to go to the edge, and the bird seemed to know it.

He sat on a chaise longue solidly in the middle of the roof. Pebbles leaped up neatly next to him and curled into a ball.

Josh sipped his water, took a few deep breaths. He could smell something floral—the lilacs that grew down in the courtyard, maybe—and it reminded him of Lauren’s soap. “I miss you,” he said out loud. Pebbles wagged her tail. The bird glanced back at them, then turned away again.

Okay. Another sip of water. Then, unable to draw out the moment any longer, he opened the envelope.

Hello, Josh, my darling love.

 Today is the anniversary of one of the happiest days of my life—the day you proposed. The way the sun lit up those gorgeous trees, you so handsome in your suit, the beautiful, beautiful ring. I felt like the world stopped for a moment. There was that lady in the pink sweats who got all teary eyed and took our picture, remember? And the little boy who wanted to see the ring and asked why you gave it to me.

He had forgotten that. A cute little kid with curly dark hair and long eyelashes, maybe five years old, asking why Josh gave her a present. Then, upon their explanation, he announced that he was going to ask his friend Hayley to marry him on the school bus the next day.

We went out to dinner at Cafe Nuovo, and our family was there, you sly devil, you. Champagne. Imagine if I’d said no! But of course, I never would have, and clearly, you were feeling pretty dang confident. As you should have been. I don’t remember what we ate, because I was just floating on happiness, but I’m sure it was delicious.

 I hope you remember that today, honey. I hope it won’t be all sad for you. Please remember how happy you made me, how perfect that night was, how much I loved the ring you picked out. Maybe you can give it to Sebastian someday, when he’s met a woman he wants to marry. Tell him how happy that ring made me. Don’t let it be unlucky. Let it be a reminder of that perfect day, and all the happiness that followed.

 I love you so much, honey. So, so much. Don’t be sad. Okay? That’s a stupid thing to ask. Oh, Josh, I can’t bear thinking of you unhappy. Put yourself back into that day and remember. It was like a dream, the happiest, sunshiniest, most romantic dream in the world. Please don’t be sad.

 Lauren

He could almost hear her crying. She had tried so hard not to mourn in front of him. Did he fail her in that regard? Was she able to share that sadness, or did she hide it more often than not? Of course, they’d cried together.

But mostly, they hadn’t. They’d made the most of her time. They really had. Their marriage had been so short, but so happy. Yawning terror combined with utter bliss. Their beautiful catastrophe.

He sat there in the sun and did as his wife asked him. He remembered the ring; he and Ben had gone shopping for it together. “This ring is a sign of what’s yet to come,” Ben said. “Pick out a winner, son.” And as soon as he had seen that stunning, simple ring, he knew.

He’d told his mother he was going to propose, and she gave him the biggest hug, then cried, then hugged him some more.

Then he’d gone to the cemetery where Lauren’s dad was buried. “Mr. Carlisle,” he said, feeling awkward and self-conscious. “I’d like to marry Lauren. I’ll take good care of her, and I’ll always put her happiness before mine.” He paused, then knelt next to the headstone. “She’s the most precious thing in the world to me. I bet you know how I feel.” And then he didn’t feel awkward anymore.

He asked Donna, who pointed out that they’d been dating only a few months (true, but Josh already knew Lauren was the one). Then she caved, and said he was a fine young man and it didn’t hurt that he had a lot of money, because people who said money didn’t matter were silly, because of course it did.