Zinnia nodded. She believed him that it would get easier as time passed because he’d been through grief before, even if Sloane had reappeared eventually. He’d still mourned her, gone to her funeral, felt it in his heart what it meant to lose someone he cared for. Zinnia might not have loved Rhys but he’d been a good man. More importantly he’d been the best father Emery could have ever hoped for; she was positive that their daughter had been the apple of his eye. They might not have been in love but they were friends.

“Thank you, Alvin.” She squeezed his hand again, firmer this time. She might not believe him, not yet at least, but it was still nice to hear the words. Mama hadn’t been the biggest fan of Rhys, nor had Papa, although Zinnia knew when the time came they would only say good things about it. So would her sisters and those who knew her late husband. It didn’t stop her from worrying though.

“Tomorrow sounds… nice. I think I could handle that.” Zinnia managed a faint smile, one corner of her mouth twitching upward before it faltered again. “I’ll let Thistle and Calla know to expect people.” They’d both been taking the bulk of watching over her daughter while Zinnia remained in her zombie state; her sisters would probably appreciate having someone else watch Emery for a little bit, plus Zin would enjoy more distractions. It was a win-win situation for everyone. She was sure if she told him to tell his mother not to bring anything, Emery was amused by everything and had some toys she enjoyed playing with, it would be ignored. Her daughter would love having some new things to play with.

Her thumb brushing absently against the side of Alvin’s hand. “Walk me home?”

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