The muffins were just emerging from the oven when Aaron came down the stairs, rubbing his eyes.

"What on earth are you doing baking at six in the morning?" he asked, yawning.

"Couldn't sleep," Keeley said casually. "Why are you up?"

"Considering how early I fell asleep, I've already gotten about ten hours of rest. I feel much better now. Can I have one of those?"

"I made them for my dad, but yes. Wait a few minutes, though; they're still hot."

He went behind her and started the coffeemaker before sitting down to wait. "I thought you were seeing him tomorrow."

She spread butter over the still-hot muffins so it would melt. Nothing was better than a warm, buttery muffin. Unfortunately, her dad would have to settle for cold, buttery muffins by the time she reached Brooklyn. Oh well.

"He's not doing so well these days," she admitted, avoiding the reason why. "I'm going to spend the night so he doesn't have to be alone today or tomorrow. Can you feed Molly for me?"

"Yeah, I can do that." Aaron paused. "You're a really good daughter."

Keeley was surprised. He'd never said anything like that before. Though it fit with his recent behavior—saying whatever came to mind.

"Thanks. I try, but I'm not sure it's enough. I'm all he has left, and I'm so busy all the time…"

"I'm sure he understands. I bet he's really proud of you."

She smiled. That's exactly what she needed to hear. He'd gotten so much better at relating to people.

She handed him a muffin. "Here, they're best warm."

He bit into it gratefully as the coffee machine beeped. He offered her some coffee, getting out another mug when she nodded. As she sipped, she noticed something that almost made her spit it out.

Aaron was using the silly Sharpie mug she'd made him for Christmas. Now that she thought about it, she'd seen him use it twice this week. It must be his favorite.

Keeley's heart skipped a beat, remembering how happy he'd been to receive it, and the mistletoe kiss that followed. She'd given it to him thinking he'd find it funny, never imagining he'd treasure it so much.

The guilt she'd felt earlier returned. What was she going to do about him?

"Keeley, what are you doing here?" Robert asked in surprise, sitting on the couch in his pajamas, watching baseball.

"Bringing you muffins," she said cheerfully, setting them on the table. "I'm staying tonight so we can go to the cemetery first thing in the morning."

He gave her a wry smile. "You're worried about your old man, aren't you? Really, I'm fine."

She sat beside him and clasped his hands. "I know you're not. When was the last time you saw anyone from work or hung out with the neighbors? You're spending too much time alone."

Robert sighed. Either his daughter was omniscient, or he'd been too open. He'd been distancing himself because he didn't want to burden anyone with his sadness.

"You're too smart for your own good. I've just…really been missing your mother lately. It would have been our 30th anniversary this year, but she's been gone nearly half that time."

Keeley wrapped her arms around him. He'd loved Monica more than anything. Of course he missed her.

She knew their love story: they'd been next-door neighbors. Robert was three years older, but they were the closest in age in their mostly senior-citizen building, so they spent a lot of time together.

They played together almost every day from the time Robert was eight and Monica was five. She'd been devastated when he left for college in Pennsylvania and called and wrote constantly. He proposed over Christmas break his senior year, and they married two weeks after graduation.

He hadn't just lost his wife; he'd lost his oldest friend. It wasn't surprising he hadn't dated.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I know it's not the same, but I miss her too," Keeley said, hugging him tighter.

"No, it's not the same. You lost your mother. That's a different kind of pain. I know I could never replace her, but I did my best."

"Don't talk like that! I never felt a lack of love. You're the best dad in the world," she said fiercely.

She felt his tears on her shoulder, and her heart ached. Wife and son. Mother and brother.

They'd both lost so much, but after everything Keeley had been through, she found it easier to accept. Her dad hadn't healed the same way. Living twice really put things in perspective.

"I don't know what I'd do without you, honeybun," he said shakily, tears falling. "I'm so glad you're still here."

She thought of Aaron, alone on what would have been their 30th anniversary. He'd probably felt something similar. But her dad had her; he wasn't completely alone.

Aaron had nobody. How had he coped?

"I'm not going anywhere," she reassured him. "I love you, Dad."

"I love you too."

Keeley patted his back and wiped away her own tears. "Come on, let's get you some muffins. I did wake up early to make them, after all."

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