Keeley happily devoured her tacos after a rough day. The days surrounding the anniversary of her mother and Kaleb's deaths were always difficult, but this year was worse; she was worried about her father. He'd been isolating himself lately—she noticed his usual work friends, whom he spent Fridays and Saturdays with, were posting pictures on social media without him. Over the years, she'd tried to encourage him to date, with no success.

Her last attempt was before leaving for NYU. She told him that since she was moving out, he didn't need to worry about her anymore and should focus on himself. He gave her a sad, little half-smile and said, "You're the only girl I need," before asking her to drop it.

Should she try again? It had been nearly seven years.

Keeley decided to make something with onions for dinner to mask the fact that she'd been crying on the subway. She didn't want Aaron to ask; she was sure she'd cry again if anyone showed concern. She wasn't the one who needed worrying about—it was her father. No one but Keeley worried about him anymore. He saw his daughter only once a week; otherwise, he was completely alone.

She'd already decided to visit him a day early and stay the whole weekend instead of just Sunday. She was sure Aaron would feed Molly for her.

Speaking of Aaron…he looked a little green. She narrowed her eyes. "Did you seriously get food poisoning?"

"…I'm not used to greasy food."

Keeley looked down at her taco. He thought this was greasy? Seriously? This was nothing! Then again, the one time she'd convinced him to eat pizza with her in college, he'd used approximately fifty napkins to blot the grease and still said it was too much. What a sissy.

She sighed. "You should have said something sooner. I would have gotten you a bowl of cereal. Are you going to puke?"

"I don't think so, but I should probably lie down. My stomach is killing me."

He politely excused himself and curled up on the couch, a pained expression on his face. Guilt gnawed at her. It was her fault he felt sick.

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"

"I'll get back to you on that."

She put the leftovers away, still burdened with guilt. More for her later.

Ugh, he looked so pitiful! There had to be something she could do. For now, though, it might be best to leave him alone.

An hour later, Aaron was still sick, lying on the couch. A thin sheen of sweat covered his forehead.

"You need to go to bed. You'll probably be more comfortable there."

He groaned. "I don't think I can move."

She sighed and offered her hand. "Come on, I'll help you up."

She heaved him to his feet, and he clutched his stomach in agony. "…it was better when I was lying on my side."

"We're almost there, just hang on a little longer."

Keeley made him change into his pajamas and crawl into bed. He looked even more pitiful under the covers. A weight settled on her heart. She wished she could make him feel better.

"Is there anything I can do for you? Can I get you some water or something?"

Aaron's muffled voice was oddly subdued. She didn't hear what he said. "What? Can you repeat that?"

"The only thing that might make me feel a little better is if I could hold you for a bit," he mumbled.

She frowned. He couldn't be serious. This was shamelessly taking advantage of the situation. Was that what he considered owing her big time for the food poisoning?

Then again…wasn't there a big research study everyone fussed about, coming out in a few years, about hugging's health benefits? It wasn't just the placebo effect; hugging stimulated oxytocin production, which had various benefits. It would be weird, but it was the least she could do.

"Fine. I'll be back."

Keeley didn't want to be in bed wearing jeans. She changed into soft cotton shorts and removed her bra. If she got stuck there, she didn't want to be poked by underwire or clasps.

When she crawled into bed next to him and let him wrap his arms around her, she made one thing clear: "I'm only doing this because it's my fault you got sick. Don't get any weird ideas."

"I won't," he sighed, tightening his hold. "Haven't you heard that hugging is good for your health?"

Was he a mind reader? "I have heard that. If I hadn't, I would have said no. It is a pretty ridiculous thing to ask your ex-wife."

Aaron buried his face in her hair. "We never officially got divorced."

"So what? That marriage certificate ceased to exist when we were both reborn. We were once married, and now we're not. So I'm your ex-wife," she reasoned.

"I don't think that counts."

Keeley rolled her eyes. "'Til death do us part,' Aaron. I died."

Come to think of it…he must have died, too. She'd never thought about that. "How did you die?"

"Heart attack from overworking. I was fifty-eight."

"That's still fairly young to have a fatal heart attack…you must have been under a lot of stress."

"I was, but I think it was more a matter of not having anything else to live for. I had someone to hand my company off to, and I was tired of being alone. I guess my body just gave up," he said wearily, wincing in pain as his stomach acted up again.

Geez. Talk about depressing. Had he really been that affected by her death? She'd always assumed he didn't care, but that was before realizing he actually did love her back then.

So Aaron was like her dad now. Monica Hall had been dead for twelve years come Sunday. That was less than half the time Aaron spent alone.

Would her dad feel like he had nothing to live for, too? No, he couldn't. He still had Keeley. She had to be there for him more so he wouldn't reach that point. Having grandchildren might help, too. Too bad that was still a few years off, at minimum.

"Go to sleep, Aaron," Keeley said, unsure how else to respond. For a compulsive liar, he'd been way too honest lately. It was weird.

He buried his face in her hair. "Okay."

I removed the promotional material at the end. I also made some minor stylistic choices to improve flow and readability.