Violet spent the rest of the weekend watching home videos of her mother's family, a distraction from her upcoming surgery. Years of footage stretched before her.

Robert was mostly absent from the recordings, busy filming his wife and daughter. Once Kaleb was older, they took turns holding the camera.

The Halls seemed a blissfully happy family: loving parents, close siblings, and constant fun. No wonder her mother had strived to create a similar family life for Violet.

A newfound appreciation for her mother blossomed in Violet's heart. Watching the videos, she realized Keeley must have been devastated by the simultaneous loss of two of the most important people in her life. Yet, Keeley remained one of the happiest people Violet knew, surpassed only by her father.

Both her parents had endured difficult lives before meeting. Perhaps that explained their enduring partnership.

The last home video was filmed on Independence Day 2001, weeks before their family shattered. Keeley and Kaleb, wearing American flag shirts, waved sparklers near a picnic table laden with barbecue. Monica, messily eating a hot dog, glanced at the camera and scowled at her husband.

"Rob, do you have to film me with mustard on my face?"

"Why not? Mustard doesn't make you any less beautiful," he replied cheekily, off-camera.

A soft expression softened her face as she rolled her eyes. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"Yeah, but you love me anyway!"

"Yeah. I do." She smiled brightly at him, and the camera refocused on the children before cutting out.

That was it. The smiling woman and laughing boy were gone. Violet felt a profound loss for people she'd never met, having become so attached through the videos and photos.

She'd once found her grandfather's enduring grief for his wife romantic, but now it was heartbreaking. He'd lost his best friend, his lifelong companion, the person he'd grown up with.

Robert hadn't just lost his wife and child; he'd lost his oldest, dearest friend. Violet couldn't imagine the depth of his suffering. No wonder he never truly moved on; such a loss was unimaginable.

It was miraculous he remained relatively cheerful during her childhood. How had he coped with Monica's absence? How could anyone survive losing their best friend like that?

"Hey, Nathan's making something fancy I can't even pronounce for dinner. Want any?" Kaleb asked, appearing in the doorway.

Seeing her tears, he was alarmed. "Whoa, what happened?"

"Grandpa loved Grandma so much, and he lived without her almost as long as he lived with her," Violet sobbed.

Her twin didn't understand her distress. "Well, they're together now. Why did you watch all this if it was going to upset you so much?"

She hadn't known it would upset her! She'd wanted to know if growing up together could lead to lifelong love. The answer was a resounding yes.

"Grandma was his Noah," she murmured. "Didn't you know? They grew up together."

Kaleb eyed the scattered albums and videos. "You went through all his junk because they were childhood friends?"

She couldn't explain it to him; he wouldn't understand. Her twin was utterly unromantic. She'd sought answers in those old memories, and she'd found them, though not as expected.

Robert lost his best friend of thirty-two years and never recovered. Was she really going to let her best friend of twenty-four years walk away because of something as seemingly insignificant as a storybook romance?

Noah understood her better than anyone. Their relationship was easy, comfortable, and fun.

She loved him, undeniably. She wasn't in love yet, but she could try. Who better to spend her life with than her best friend? She'd been blinded by her own stupidity.

He was always there for her, cheering her up, showering her with compliments like a boyfriend for over a decade, all dismissed because he was "just Noah."

She was an idiot. She longed to talk to him, but this needed to be said in person. It would have to wait until after her surgery.

At the very least, she needed to tell him she'd broken up with Jeremy, but she couldn't find the words. She feared his reaction. That, too, would have to wait.

If only she wasn't stuck on the couch with her injured knee. She'd march to Noah's, throw her arms around him, and tell him how much he meant to her. He'd waited this long; he could wait a little longer, right?

(The final paragraph about the novel's website is promotional material and not part of the story itself.)