. we’re functioning, but not living, not the way one wants to live.

A lump fills my throat, making it ache as I swallow.

“Do you need a ride to the airport?” Dr. Morris asks, changing the subject.

I shake my head, even though I haven’t actually thought that far. Can’t seem to think clearly right now. There’s so much white noise in my head. And this unbearable weight on my heart.

“What time is your flight?”

“I haven’t booked it yet.”

“I imagine then that you probably won’t see your father until tomorrow.”

“I’m hoping to join him for lunch.”

“That’ll be nice.”

“Hope so.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

I have to think. Since I didn’t make it Easter it was . . . it was . . . “Christmas.”

It’s been too long. I’ve not been an attentive daughter. I should have been up to see him several times since. But Napa isn’t home, and his senior retirement home isn’t where I want him to be. After mom died, I thought he’d want to come live with me, in Scottsdale. He didn’t, choosing to move into the retirement home instead. It’s not close or convenient for my work. I’d give up my practice here, but that would leave Dr. Morris alone.

I look up into Andrew Morris II’s eyes and see things I don’t want to see.

He misses Andrew terribly. Andrew was his son, his heir. The future. Not just in life, but the next generation to run the dental practice. From the time Andrew was a boy, he was going to be part of the Scottsdale practice. It was going to be Morris and Morris.

Instead it’s Morris & Associates.

I’m the associate. Andrew’s fiancée.

• • •

I’m able to book a flight out while still at the office, and once home, I quickly pack for two weeks. Dr. Morris is taking me off the books for the first half of June as well, but I can’t imagine being gone that long. I’m not someone who likes to sit around.