six months after the funeral, Shauna is still treading carefully around me, walking on eggshells. She treats me like I'm fragile, like I might break any minute, and I don't blame her.

She doesn't joke as much, her smiles are reserved, her laughs stifled. Her normal exuberance is replaced with concern; every look holds an edge of worry and sadness.

I don't know if I love her for letting me grieve, for respecting my loss, or if I hate it that she doesn't just let life go on.

But, I don't deserve to move on, do I? I deserve to remember him, every waking minute, in my dreams, in each thought and sentence and in every breath.

I don't know how much longer I can handle it.

For the first time since before, we sit on my carpet and eat pizza like old times. She looks the same, I look the same. We are not the same.

Everything has changed.

I know this because when I flip to the news she doesn't whine or protest, tell me it's dumb or boring. She doesn't say anything, just gives me a small smile, and I think it's worse this way.

It's the second story that catches my eye, makes me turn the volume up. It's about Caleb, kind of.

"You don't have to watch this, you know." She squeezes my hand.

"I want to see what they're saying."

They talk about how there is an unprecedented level of disorder and mayhem in the organization of the Vancouver mafia.

"It seems as though since the courtroom shooting that shook the country just over six months ago, there has been a shift in the normally elusive dynamics of the city's most powerful organized crime syndicates."

They go on to talk about the chaos, unease, the disagreements and fighting and division that the shooting apparently caused.

"Reports suggest that high-ranking officials in the Santino family mafia organization, including the underboss and a few lower-level agents, have voiced their lack of support for the violent actions that took the life of lawyer Caleb Dorn.

Their refusal to cooperate in the current climate has marked a period of strife unseen before in the city's history of organized crime."

My chest fills with recognition, confusion, and something lighter.

"The disagreements have lead to increased violence within the organization, and what looks to be a breakdown in everyday operations."

I guess my surprise, my understanding and clarity and relief must be overly evident, because Shauna gives me a smile. "Looks like those bastards are getting what they deserve, huh?"

I nod absently, but what I'm really thinking about is Nero, with his tired expression and dark eyes and mouth turned into a thin line, that same look I've seen so many times before.

They didn't mention him by name, but I know enough to fill in the blanks. And it makes me warm all over, every single frozen part of me, to think that he maybe didn't order it, didn't agree, never wanted it to happen.

That he is giving them hell for it.

I remind myself to take it all with a grain of salt but really, it feels true and I want it to be true, and I imagine all the things it would mean if it was.

And he hasn't tried to tell me, to convince me, because what would be the point? Caleb would still be dead, I would still be shattered, it would still have been their fault. Even if it wasn't his.

Is it bad just how much I want it to be the truth? How much I want to believe that Nero, like that time over a year ago at the banquet, and that time months ago right here in my apartment, didn't actually order or want bad things to happen, didn't want to cause all this pain?

But he's practically the boss. How could he not know?

They say he didn't.

He said he didn't.

Even Natalia said he didn't.

It wouldn't bring Caleb back, but at least it would give me some kind of closure, ease some of that crippling guilt.

Because if I practically cheated on Caleb with the man who ordered him dead, what would that make me?

"Rosalyn? You okay?" She waves a hand in front of my face, because I've totally just zoned out.

"Yeah, sorry." I shake my head. "Just thinking."

She looks preoccupied, like she wants to say something but doesn't know if she should. "Ros?" She looks at me with those wide green eyes that I have known for just about ever.

"Yeah?" I give her my most honest smile.

"Am I totally bumming you out?" She looks so confused when I start laughing, for the first time in God knows how long. "No, I'm serious!" Even she can't stop from smiling just a little. "Because I feel like I just keep bringing you down and you're sad enough and I'm supposed be be cheering you up except I don't want to offend you and—"

"Shauna."

"Yeah?"

I rest my hands on her shoulders, relaxing and hoping she will do the same. "I am so sick and tired of being sad all the time."

There are small tears in my eyes, and in hers too.

"I just want you to be happy, even though it seems impossible." She wipes a stray drop as it rolls down her cheek.

"And I want to be happy, but I don't want to forget him. He deserves to be missed."

She nods. "Of course he does. But Rosalyn, he would never have wanted you to suffer like this."

And as soon as she says it I realize that it is the honest truth. He wouldn't, ever, even if he knew what I have done.

Even if I keep insisting that I deserve to be miserable forever.

"He would want you to try move on with your life. That doesn't mean you have to forget him."

It hurts just how right she is, even if I don't want to believe it. "You're so right, Shauna."

A watery smile. "Obviously." She clutches my hand. "So you wanna do something sometime? We can start small, like coffee or something."

All I can manage is a nod because my throat is too raw and anything I could say would come out broken.

I smile, she smiles.

It will be okay.

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